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talesofstyles · 4 years

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The Law of Attraction

buckle up my little ballsacks you’re in for a treat. this is pure lawyer harry filth. honestly i’ve got no excuse.

massive massive thank you to @smokeinherperfume for letting me ramble about lawyer harry 24/7 and @for-fucks-sake-h for allllll the knife emojis FGHSHSGSGH ILY 🥺💛

p.s. all of my fics about lawyer harry are standalones so you don’t have to read them in order. but just fyi technically this one happens after Quid Pro Quo. hope you like it! xx

An orgasm crashes through YN’s body, causing her back to arch in her chair and her fingers to tug hard at the hair of the man who’s working his tongue between her legs. It’s half three on a Wednesday, and instead of skimming through stacks of her clients’ contracts trying to find loopholes or go through the first set of Interrogatories once again before she sends it to the opposing counsel later today; she’s got her former-nemesis-turned-best-friend kneeling before her chair, her skirt hiked up around her waist and her knickers haphazardly pulled to the side. She lets out a groan, which only eggs him on, and he lashes his tongue against her even harder.

“Enough,” she mutters weakly, her voice barely audible and she’s not even sure if he even heard it. She pushes his head away from her, but the stubborn sod only swats her hands away while growling and doubles up on his efforts. She can feel him shaking his head as he licks and sucks away, slipping his finger deep inside her the second she closes her eyes and proceeds to bring her to another shattering orgasm in just under two minutes.

She slaps her hand over her mouth as she reaches her high again, and Harry looks at her with a satisfied smile, before licking his shiny wet lips without breaking eye contact. The sight alone is almost enough to make her want to shove his head back to where it was half a minute ago. “Feel better?”

“Mhm,” she hums happily and Harry’s lips quirk into a gentle smirk. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” he replies as he stands up, before leaning over to button their lips together in a quick kiss.

“I think the pleasure’s all mine, but let’s rectify that,” she mutters as she pulls away. “What do you want? You tell me and I’ll give it to you. Do you want me to get you off slowly or do you want to fuck my mouth?”

“Fuck,” he groans in frustration. “You’re gonna kill me here. I’ve got a deposition in- shit, two minutes. I’ve got to go now. Catch ya later doll.”

She shakes her head, chuckling as she watches him rushing out of her office. “Later, shithead.”

Isn’t it just funny how the universe works sometimes? Six months ago they couldn’t even be in the same room without having a scream-whisper match, but here they are half a year later, happily handing each other orgasms like sweets on Halloween. Harry didn’t even know exactly what was bothering her today. He just sensed that she was in a real mood when he swung by her office, so instead of splitting a packet of KitKats right on the dot at three o’clock like usual, he closed the door and switched on the panel by the door so the transparent glass wall turned translucent to give them privacy, and then he went down on her without saying another word.

The perks of being friends instead of foes with Harry is that she gets to find out that Harry’s oral skills are not limited to advocacy and sarcasm. And not to mention that he’s a very generous man. Sure, it’s not a trait particularly needed in a best friend and colleague, but fuck if that’s not something that is much appreciated. At first, obviously it wasn’t easy for YN to hang the white flag above her head. Her ego was badly bruised when the firm made Harry Senior Partner instead of her in the beginning of the year, making her feel that all the long hours and the all-nighters she’d pulled were all for nothing. She felt like she gave up her social life for nothing, basically put her life on hold for nothing and gave her all to her firm for nothing. She felt unappreciated, and the easiest target to channel all her anger and frustration was Harry. Because come on, who else was she supposed to be mad at? Her boss? It’d be like being mad at Gandhi.

It definitely got much easier when she finally let the resentment go, the fact that he was the one being promoted. Especially knowing well the reason was only because he came from a bigger law firm, and that he came bearing gifts—the gifts being five huge clients from his old firm—when he came into her firm earlier this year. She’s accepted the fact that him being promoted instead of her doesn’t mean that she’s not a damn good lawyer. Hell, she’s got a hundred percent win record to prove that. It was easier to hate him when she didn’t know him, but as they began working on cases together and she got the chance to get to know him more, she knew he deserved it.

If you ask YN, she’d most likely tell you that having a work husband surely beats having an enemy in the office. She loves having Harry as her best friend, her most trusted legal confidant when she needs to strategise on a case and well, as an occasional lover on a bad day. He is her number one ally and advisor, the person she can laugh with and be stressed with, have politically incorrect conversations with, and give her bone-deep honest opinions to. He supports her and helps her with her cases—not that she needs help because again, she’s one hell of a lawyer, but it’s surely nice to have an extra brain in the case sometimes.

Fuck, she really does owe Harry a good one tonight for giving her a nice distraction.

A ding sound from her phone brings her back to reality. She darts her eyes at her phone for a second, and she lets out a heavy sigh when she reads the name on the screen. It’s a text to confirm the dinner meeting tonight at The Berkeley, definitely one that she can’t avoid since he’s a huge client, but more importantly, one that she dreads to meet.

You see, there’s a large part of life that we call normalcy. Eat, sleep, take a shower. Wearing underwear inside our clothes instead of outside like Batman and Superman. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Most people drink coffee in the morning. Thirty minutes of cardio three times a week.

As pathetic as this may sound, pining for Luke, that said client who also happens to be her ex-boyfriend has been YN’s normalcy for the past two years. Luckily, his company is her client and not the man himself so she got away with keeping contact to a bare minimum. Meeting him only about two to three times a year and only when it’s absolutely necessary and cannot be handled by his General Counsel. But apparently, his step-father decided to retire and pass his hotel business to him—honestly, as if he’s not bloody minted already—and he needs her now more than ever because even though he knows his way around the business world, this whole thing is a new territory for him.

This is the second time in a week that he’s arranged a meeting and only God knows how many more meetings with him she could take. Because, as always, his presence means the absence of her sanity. And she hates it.

Welcome to YN’s fucked up life.

***

“I still don’t know why you want me to go with you,” Harry says, turning to look at her when they stop at a red light. Even though it’s dark outside, the neon-blue lights from the interior electronics cast the angles of his face handsomely.

He’s driving both himself and YN to The Berkeley where they’ll be meeting Luke for a dinner meeting to discuss his new business and his plan to merge with another hotel group. Which is an absolutely terrible idea and YN plans to talk him out of it tonight. It’s probably easier said than done though, because she knows Luke and she’s definitely familiar with how stubborn he can be.

There are a lot of things about Luke that she still remembers. He pretends to hate those mini chocolate muffins but he actually loves them. He drinks his coffee at six thirty sharp every morning, yes, even on the weekends. He loves jogging and sometimes he wishes he’s an athlete so that he can get paid just to run and play football all day long. Even though he’s rich as sin—and God, fit as fuck too—he’s humble and definitely not flashy, so if you see him without his suits, you’d probably never guess that he doesn’t actually need to work a day in his life because he comes from old money. But Luke is different. He never touched his trust fund and he was determined to create his own business from scratch.

He’d just started his business around the same time YN started working in her firm as an associate, so she saw it right before her eyes how hard he worked during those first few years as he nurtured his business. His company was one of the first clients that she’d been assigned to work on, and when she got promoted to Junior Partner, her mentor gave her The White Company as her first official client. The timing couldn’t be more brilliant since she and Luke just broke up two days prior, but she knew there was no way she could turn down such a big business.

Fuck, she’s thinking about him again. She immediately makes a mental note in her head to ask Harry for an extra orgasm tonight to keep him out of her mind. But now she can’t help snickering at the thought because she makes it sounds as if she’s asking for extra ketchup.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asks and she turns to look at him. He gives her a tiny smirk before his eyes get back on the road, but he reaches his hand out to her bare knee to give her a squeeze. “Still haven’t answered me, doll.”

“Sorry- what did you ask?”

“Why did you want me to go with you?” He asks again. “He wants to merge, right? That’s totally your thing. You don’t need me.”

“You helped me with his crisis a few months ago,” she reminds him. “Just thought we could do his business together again. He’ll be happy he’s getting two partners, the firm will be happy because they can charge double. It’s a win-win, really.”

“Bollocks that,” Harry laughs. “Worst bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s all, honest,” she feigns innocence.

“Honey, I didn’t go through law school for nothing, did I?” He replies without moving his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “You’re using me as a human condom, aren’t you?”

“What the hell does that even mean?” She drops her jaw in shock at the fact that he calls her out on the carpet just like that.

“You’re afraid you’ll catch feelings again if you’re left alone with him, so you bring me as a shield. Am I right?” He asks her with an accusatory eyebrow raise. “You know what, no need to answer that. Of course I’m right.”

“I told you, he’s just a client now,” she insists, trying to ignore her heart pounding in her chest as Harry’s hand inches its way up her thigh. It’s incredibly arousing, but she also finds it a little disturbing since they’re having a conversation about a man she’s head over heels for. She almost want him to stop but fuck if she’s going to ask him.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here,” he says, and it’s really hard for her to concentrate on what he’s saying since he’s squeezing her thigh. His fingers pressing deep into her muscles and she can only wish they’re a few inches higher. “But if in any way you want to get him back, just say the word and I’ll back away, yeah?”

“There’s nothing going on, Harry,” she reassures him. “You’ve got to trust me on this. He’s just a client now.”

“You sure?” Harry asks again. Turning to look at her briefly before he pulls into a parking space and puts the car in park, but she can tell by the tone in his voice that he doesn’t buy a single thing she’s said.

“I’m sure,” she nods reassuringly.

Harry grins as he reaches up and tweaks her on the nose. “You’re cute when you lie.”

“Shut up, shithead,” she mutters as she pulls on the door handle. It opens and she steps out, taking a moment to smooth down her dress. Leaning back down, she looks inside the car to look at Harry and give him a wink. “Now let’s go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can reciprocate.”

***

“You have it bad for him, don’t you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow at her accusingly, not even bothering to wait until Luke disappears past the lift to take a call.

YN blinks in surprise at his accusation, but instead of denying it for the second time tonight, she finally concedes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Holy shit,” this time, it’s Harry’s turn to look at her in surprise. He definitely wasn’t expecting her to admit it, but fuck if he believed that bullshit she told him in the car. “No, it’s not obvious. But I know you better than anyone in this room.”

She chuckles, before taking a swig of her Chardonnay. “True.”

“I meant what I said earlier in the car,” Harry reminds her. “Just say the word and I’ll back away. He’s probably still into you too.”

She just stares at him for a second. She’s obviously contemplating something, he can tell. He braces, wondering if she’ll finally tell him to back away. He has to remind himself to be cool, to just nod and smile if she actually does say that. They’re not exclusive, and as amazing as this last six months has been, he knows all good things come to an end. He has no absolute reason to be upset, he knows that. And as her best friend he only wants the best for her. If she thinks Luke can make her happy, then so be it.

He’s ready for her to tell him to back away. He does. Not saying that he’ll be happy, but he’ll accept it. So imagine his surprise when she gives him a smirk and says, “let’s go all the way tonight.”

Harry’s head shoots up, and he narrows his eyes at her. “You fucking with me?”

“I was hoping you’d be the one doing all the fucking,” she murmurs, still smiling coyly at him and somehow has the audacity to dip her eyes in a completely fake showing of shyness.

Harry’s eight-inch piece of equipment that had been jumping and twitching like an excited puppy now goes to full mast, pushing hard against his zipper. He drains the rest of his drink in one big gulp, not wanting to waste any time. “Stay here and wait for him to finish that sodding call. Make up an excuse for me and distract him while I go and try to get us a room upstairs.”

“You do realise that my flat is literally ten minutes away from here right? And your place is like, what, twenty minutes tops?”

“Upstairs is closer,” he lowers his voice huskily. “They have beds too.”

Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “Beds, huh?”

“What? Don’t fancy shaggin’ on a bed?” He says with a smirk, sitting straighter as he smooths his tie. “I’ll see if they’ve got anything with a balcony then.”

“You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?” She mocks, rolling her eyes. “Does the word indecent exposure mean anything to you?”

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“I did,” she challenges him with a spark of defiance in her eyes. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Do that again and you’ll get the palm of my hand,” he tells her ominously.

“You’re all mouth and no trousers, Styles,” she taunts him.

“Good luck trying to sit tomorrow.”

***

In less than fifteen minutes, YN is standing in a lift with Harry’s lips roaming her neck and his finger sinking deep inside of her.

She didn’t have to make up an excuse when Luke went back to their table after taking the call. Apparently, there was some emergency and he needed to get back to his office as soon as possible for an emergency meeting with the boards. She assured him it was fine and that they could easily arrange another meeting to further talk about his plan to merge with another hotel group.

Harry doesn’t waste much time as he pushes the button to their floor and the doors close. He stalks towards her, cupping her head to bring her mouth to his, and his other hand going directly between her legs. She slips her tongue into his mouth and touches it against his, the vibe of the kiss turning a bit dirty. It’s a thrilling turn on, causing waves of pleasure to pulse through both of them. His tongue ends up dominating hers in the most searing, sexually explosive kiss she’d ever been given.

His hand softly fondles her for a moment, and then he’s inside of her, curling his finger in a way that has her knees buckling. He immediately saves the day by pushing one of his legs in between hers to hold her steady. He knows he doesn’t have time to get her off before they reach their floor, so he breaks the kiss and roams his lips along her neck lightly, moving his finger in and out of her leisurely but so very deeply. Her hips flex against him, trying to demand more, but she’s just going to have to wait.

When the lift starts to slow near their floor, he calmly removes his hand, smoothes her dress down, and gives her a light kiss on the nose.

He’s smiling at her as he closes the door behind them, in a completely relaxed, but thank fuck we’re finally doing this and I’m here to fuck you senseless kind of way, and it manages to show the two dimples he sports on either side of his full lips.

Their lips meet again as he leans in, softly at first, just a taste to whet the appetite. His arms tighten around her, and he increases the pressure, urging her to open up and let him in. He’s a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom, and fuck if she’s not thanking her lucky stars that he’s just the same in the bedroom. He moves his lips against hers, making delicious little thrusts and flicks with his tongue, teasing and tantalising, all while stroking her back in the most incredibly sensual way that makes her tingling from head to toe.

He loves how she just melts against him when he rubs her back, and how adorably dazed she looks just from a kiss. Grinning at her, he reaches a finger out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. The blood in his dick thumps, eagerly demanding to move things along, but he’s determined to take his time with her.

Her mouth waters as her hands work at his belt buckle. His cock is thick and hard when she pulls him free of his boxer briefs, and she drops to her knees with her hand wrapped around his girth. It’s standing straight up before her after she releases it for a second, and she melts at the sight. There’s one perfectly thick vein running straight up the middle, but then it veers off at an angle. And although this is certainly not the first time she sees it, she can’t help but cock her head to the side just to see where it goes.

He palms the side of her head with one hand and holds her hair in a ponytail at the back of her head with the other. Looking up at him, she can see his jaw is locked tight and his chest is rising and falling rapidly.

She squeezes him hard, just the way she knows how he likes, and strokes up and down a few times, making him groan. His head falls back, eyes squeezed shut. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Ssh,” she shushes him before she murmurs low in her throat. “I’ve got you.”

She finally opens her mouth, bares her teeth slightly, and then scrapes them lightly over the tip. A long, deep groan rumbles out of him, his eyes remain shut tight. Exhilaration and victory swells within her, knowing that just that one tiny touch reduced him to utter helplessness.

He opens his eyes, gazing at her. His voice is thickened and gruff when he says, “you’ve got no idea how beautiful you look while on your knees before me.”

She responds to him by leaning in, and without hesitation taking the tip of him into her mouth, making him groan in relief. He grips her lightly, his fingers pressing into her scalp as a means of holding her steady and not to force action. She licks and sucks, squeezing and stroking him with her hand. He’s watching her from above with lust on his face, and she’s savouring every little groan she drags out of this normally stoic man. She flutters her tongue on the sensitive underside just below the head of his cock, her hand gently squeezing his balls as she works his shaft.

“Been dying to get that cherry lipstick on my cock,” he mutters softly, she can barely hear him. He grits his teeth as he slowly pulls out of her mouth. “Knew that red lipstick would look good on me.”

Her eyes slide to his cock, and she has no clue what her mouth looks like, but she’s absolutely sure most of her lipstick is gone since it’s smeared beautifully along the length of his shaft. She tries to take it back into her mouth, determined to bring him into completion that way, but his hand immediately covers her, holding her still while his eyes pin her in place. “Wanna be inside you.”

He helps her stand on her feet, and the next thing she knows, her dress pools around her ankle. His hands come to the back of her bra, flicking it open and pulling it from her. Then he drops to his knees before her. Fingers going under her knickers, he pulls them down just enough to gain access and runs his tongue up her centre.

He had fantasised about her naked before him more times than he could probably admit that he has to blink twice to convince himself that this time is real. And fuck if it isn’t much better than his dreams.

“Bed,” he commands, and she crawls on it with the intent to lay in a sexy pose as she turns over to face him, but he’s on the bed with her, quick as lightning, and flips her to her back.

Her eyes go up to find him staring at her tits, and she can’t help but joke. “They don’t bite, you know.”

His gaze comes up to meet hers, and his lips curve slightly. “But I do. It’s probably going to hurt a little.”

A shudder ripples through her, and her nipples harden. His eyes flick back down to her breasts. She swallows hard at the anticipation, the thought of him getting a little rough with them is thrilling, but there’s something else she wants more right now.

“I’m fucking dying to be inside you right now,” he whispers in her ear. His admission elicits a deep moan to escape from her lips. “Last chance to change your mind, doll.”

“Please just fuck me already,” she whimpers, her hands roaming his body. Every glide of her fingers over his skin fills him with a fullness he’s never experienced before. “I’m losing my mind.”

With one hand pressed into the mattress, Harry uses the other to take his cock in hand. He dips his hips, pressing the tip right into her entrance. Blowing out a breath, he brings his eyes to hers and holds her captive, finally thrusts deeply into her. She screams, not in pain but in pure fucking ecstasy, as he fills her up. Harry bottoms out, his pelvis pressed hard into hers.

Baring his teeth, he mutters, “fuck… that feels good.”

“Would feel better if you move,” she suggests with a smirk.

Harry stays completely still inside of her. He breathes in deeply, closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them up again, he gives her a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid to move. Afraid I might embarrass myself and blow my load in about two nanoseconds.”

She lets out a giggle, pretty sure that’s the one and only time in her life she’s ever done something so girly. Harry laughs huskily and kisses her hard. He doesn’t move an inch from his waist down but just kisses her deeply with thorough possession. When he pulls away, he tentatively circles his hips, grinding into her.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and drops his forehead to hers. “Yeah… definitely not gonna last long.”

Her hands go into his hair and she massages his scalp, incredibly touched and turned on over his reaction to her. She tugs on his hair, pulling his face away from hers. “Harry?”

He moves reluctantly and looks down at her with that same abashed look. She tilts her hips, clenches her internal muscles around his cock, and then rubs her thumbs into his scalp.

“Let go,” she commands him softly. “Fuck me hard and come as fast as you want. We’ve got all night.”

***

Harry’s hand reaches out, tapping the screen on his phone to turn the alarm off, laying silently in the predawn gloom pondering about his situation at this very moment.

There’s a naked, beautiful woman on top of him, and fuck if he can remember when was the last time he woke up with someone else in his bed. It’s not that he’s averse to cuddles; if the woman wants a cuddle with him after sex, he’d give it to them. The act of intimacy like that doesn’t scare him whatsoever. But normally he’d be out of their hair long before the sun is up, leaving them to wake up alone and him to start his day as if the night before didn’t happen.

He always tells himself to forget whoever he shags the night before no matter how great of a fuck she was, although he’ll allow himself to bring forth the memories when he jerks off if needed.

YN fell asleep a few hours prior, spread-eagled over his body right after she collapsed from the most recent fuck-fest. She came, he came, then she fell forwards onto his chest and was out like a light. And he left her right there all night. Letting her lie on top of him, calling it a day well completed and went to sleep himself.

His hand slides down from her stomach right between her legs, his fingers swiping through her folds which become slicker with desire the more he plays. She softly moans in her sleep and her lower body starts to squirm. Her breathing hitches, and the second she cracks her eyes open, she gives him that happy, sleepy, please fuck me again smile.

He gently eases her down from the top of his chest to lay beside him, rolling her to the side so her back is facing him. Then he pushes her outer leg up, sliding his body down just a little bit, angling his cock to slip into her from behind.

Harry moves slowly as he’s spooned around her and she moans in pure bliss as he fills her up. The arm that her head is resting on comes up to curve across her chest and hold her tight. His other hand grips the back of her thigh firmly to pin her in place.

“More,” she whispers on a forced exhalation.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles against her hair. “My girl wants more.”

And he gives her more. Fucking her exquisitely and with no doubt that neither of them has ever had it that good. He takes her higher and higher, the sweet words that he’s whispering in her ear is the complete opposite of the kinky shit they did last night.

“Balcony?”

YN didn’t hesitate, following right behind him as he pushed the doors open. A light breeze filters in but it’s still muggy outside. They’re on the seventh floor, and they can still hear the rumble of engines and the honking of horns below them. The quiet darkness of Belgravia stretches out beyond.

Harry walked up to the edge of the balcony, which was made of stone and concrete, sitting about three and a half feet high. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a searing kiss. She moaned, slipping her tongue in his mouth and gripped onto his shoulders. The kiss was deep and wet, and honestly, the best kind of kiss.

He pushed her up against the wall, laying a palm over one breast. Squeezing, plumping, testing the weight in his hand. He rubbed a thumbnail over her nipple, eliciting the softest sigh from her.

He brought his other hand south. Straight shot, right to her centre. Her head dropped to his shoulder as his fingertips continued to circle and rub against her. Within minutes she had his fingers deep inside her and his thumb working her hard. He wanted nothing more than to just line up and push his way in, but he waited. He waited until he saw her trembling became a little fiercer, her body tensed, and when she sucked in a large gulp of air, he knew that was his cue.

He quickly removed his fingers, bracing his hands on her hips and slammed forward. She took him all the way in and he cursed under his breath as he felt her spasm all around him when she came. For a second he thought about hitting it hard, chasing another orgasm, but then he decided against it, wanting to relish the scenery and listen to the sounds of the city.

“Let’s just quit our jobs and fuck all day,” Harry jokes as he drops her leg back down into place.

“Sounds good to me,” she laughs as she reaches around him, grabbing the complimentary bottle of water on the nightstand, taking a sip before she hands it to him and he finishes it in a couple of long swallows.

“Thirsty?”

“Starving too,” he replies in a way that doesn’t make her think he wants some bacon and eggs.

Within seconds, he has her on her back again as he slides down her body, roughly pushing her legs apart. Her hands shoot out, grabbing the sides of his head before he gets the chance to descend even lower. “No.”

“What?”

“Let me get cleaned up first,” she says lamely, pretty sure she’s killed the mood. “I mean… I’m filled with-”

Harry ignores her, cutting her off by dropping his mouth right between her legs and begins sucking. She shrieks from the warm contact, surprised by how sensitive she is, and as he lifts his gaze to hers, he murmurs. “That’s you and me together, and we taste fucking delicious.”

Her body trembles from his words, and through a dry and parched throat she croaks, “then by all means.”

“Thank you,” he says with a wink, then proceeds to bring her to another shattering orgasm that totally wrecks her.

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danceworshipper · 3 years

Text

Ida Sommer - HPHL MC

Info subject to change as more game information is released. All of my HPHL ocs exist in the same universe

[profile template by me]

Personal

Full Name: Ida Marie Sommer

Gender: Female (cis)

Sexuality: Pansexual (closeted)

Birthday: August 20th

Birthstone: Peridot

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Age: 14 (at beginning of game)

Blood Status: Pureblood

3 Positive Traits:

- Charming

- Spiritual (nature oriented)

- Resilient

3 Negative Traits:

- Childish

- Uncommunicative

- Vain

Usual First Impression: When first meeting Ida, people often assume she is immature, ignorant, and easy to take advantage of due to her sheltered nature and cutesy appearance. This impression is highly incorrect

Location

Birthplace: Germany (exact location TBD)

Current Home: Her father's estate in one of the richest areas (Germany)

Future Home: A beautiful cottage secluded from the world, near a mountainside (Germany)

Favorite Place: A cliff overseeing the sea in Japan, close to the little shop where she got her wand

Disliked Place: Her maternal grandparents' home, simply because she doesn't enjoy their company

Appearance

[image created using the Live Portrait Maker app]

Face Shape: Roundish jaw, soft features with a strong brow bone

Eye Color: Yellowish green

Hair Color: Light blonde

Hair Style: Ida wears her hair down or in a single braid. Her hair is mostly straight with side bangs, and is parted in the middle

Skin Tone: Light

Freckles/Spots: A few freckles on her cheeks, more visible when she's been out in the sun

Scars: None during her schooling. After graduation, Ida marks her arms with runes only she and Sebastien can make sense of to strengthen her connection to the world around her

Piercings/Tattoos: Single earlobe piercings.

Final Height: 5'9"

Final Weight: 137lbs

Physique: Thin with long legs, slightly wider than average shoulders

Clothing Style: Ida is a rich kid, so her clothing is always of high quality material and her jewelry is noticeably unflawed. She dresses modestly until she turns seventeen, when she stops caring what her parents think. Her favorite colors to wear are pastels

Carried Items:

- her wand

- a locket with a picture of her and her parents in it - not worn, but kept in her satchel

- a silver pocket watch stuck at 11:18 pm, handed to her by the same Seer who told her where to get her wand

- a handful of candy

- extra quills for her roommate who keeps forgetting hers

- a book from the Restricted Section about Elementals, written by Elementals and charmed so no one other than an Elemental can ever figure out what it says

Magic

Wand: 12 inches of firm Ebony wood with a koi-mer hair core. A pitch black, rounded wand with a pattern of scales carved into the handle. This wand was custom made in a small, almost unknown shop in Japan after a Seer she bumped into on the street told Ida that her perfect wand would be created there. It would seem foolish to go all the way from Germany to Japan on the word of an unknown Seer, but it was Ida's turn to plan the summer trip, so she picked a place in Japan close enough to the mentioned shop

Animagus: Loon

Boggart Form: A headless figure easily recognizable as herself, crumbling away into dust. A failed attempt to merge with nature resulting in her demise

Riddikulus Form: A statue of her like the one in her parents' back garden, over glorifying her features, that has been attacked and is crumbling away. She hates that statue

Amortentia (to others): Someone smelling Ida would smell lime juice, fresh water, and static electricity

Amortentia (to her): TBD

Patronus: Ida has never been able to cast a Patronus. Not for a lack of happy enough memories, but because of her powerful soul. The Patronus can never escape her magical core

Patronus Memory: N/A

Mirror of Erised: A tree so big it grows up an entire mountainside. The tree bark is covered in swirling patterns Ida recognizes as Elemental runes. She doesn't yet know what exactly this tree is, but she feels an undeniable longing for it

Family Spells: The Sommer family has no special family spells

Inherent Magic: Elemental

- Ida has all the magic of a normal witch, but on top of that has a deep connection to the earth and the magic stemming from it, even beyond the earth into the universe. If not properly trained (or if driven to a great enough temptation), an Elemental could vaporize the entire planet, or bend it to their will. They could also leave humanity behind if they so wished and become nature itself

- Elementals are theorized to have fragments of Merlin's soul fused with their own, hence why they feel strong connections to each other and can't ever fatally harm one of their own. Most Elementals also fall in love with each other as well, and the connection is thought to be stronger than a normal human's love could ever be. These connections help ensure no Elemental gives in to whichever temptation has the strongest pull on them. Only one Elemental has ever yet gone evil, and this is how it was discovered that they cannot kill one another

- This special magic is not hereditary. In fact, no one knows what causes someone to be born an Elemental, only that there have been less and less of them in the recent centuries. There are only two known Elementals left: Ida and Sebastien

Family

Mother: Lina is a warm hearted woman who wants the best for her daughter, misguided though she might be. She often has to shout at her husband to trying to hold Ida back, or discourage Ida's dreams. She noticed Ida's growing power long before her husband did, and was the one to finally contact someone for help when Ida grew so strong and uncontrolled she couldn't stop floating

Father: Elias is a business oriented man who, though he loves his daughter, up until her reveal as an Elemental wished she was a son. He's the reason Ida was homeschooled for so long, as he didn't think a girl was worth the tuition money. He refused to believe that Ida was anything other than ordinary until a man in a high position told him otherwise

Sisters: None

Brothers: None

Pets: A screech owl named Goldig, meaning 'cute'

Other Important Family: Ida's paternal aunt, Ingrid, is one of the biggest influences in her life as a child. Ingrid is an independent witch who lives fabulously by herself with her dead husband's fortune. Ida used to yearn for a future where she wasn't tied down by a man and could do as she pleased

Family Values: The Sommer family as a whole is mainly concerned with two things: remaining pureblooded, and growing richer. Most of the Sommers are decently good people, but they have period-appropriate prejudices and are willing to leave someone behind to save themselves, metaphorically and literally

Opinion on Family: Up until entering Hogwarts, Ida really only knew her family, so she loved them and thought very highly of them. As she becomes more socialized and learns more about the world, she starts to notice her parents' many flaws and though she never stopped loving them, she does resent them for homeschooling her and ignoring the signs of her being abnormal, because she used to think she was broken when in reality she's nearly a god

Friendships

Introverted or Extroverted: Extroverted

Best Friend: Sebastien Parr - another mc of mine who is also an Elemental, and an exchange student from Beauxbatons

Worst Friend: TBD

Friend She Didn't Expect: TBD

Who She Wishes Was Her Friend: TBD

List of Casual Friends:

- Sophia Burton @gcldensnitch

- Charlotte Grant @weasleysandwheezes

- canon friends TBD

Romance

Current Crush: None

Current Partner: None

Past Partners: None

Future Partners: TBD - will likely be picked from the game's characters, but could possibly be someone else's mc

Her Type: TBD

Hogwarts

House: Slytherin

Prefect Status: No

Quidditch: Never played, but loves to watch

Clubs: None

Organizations: The fake Headmaster's Apprentices organization that she and Sebastien use to hide what they're really doing

Favorite Class: Herbology

Least Favorite Class: History of Magic

Favorite Professor: TBD

Least Favorite Professor: TBD

Timeline

Young Childhood: Ida is kept at home. She knows no children her age, and spends most of her free time roaming her father's land. No matter how far she wanders, she never seems to get lost. Ida has strange dreams where she watches the world as an outsider. After being told by a Seer that her ideal wand would be created at a small shop in Japan, Ida convinces her father to spend a month there over the summer, and her mother takes her to the shop to get her wand. Ida sneaks out one night and climbs a cliff that looks out over the ocean. In later years she can't remember whether rising up over the waters and hearing the stars call to her by name was a dream or not, but she knows the moon smiled at her.

First Year: N/A

Second Year: N/A

Third Year: Ida's uncontrolled Elemental magic reaches a breaking point, and Ida explodes her little study room as she lifts up in the air, unable to come down. Her mother sends for help: two healers, a historian, and three government officials later, Ida is brought down and informed that she will be enrolled in Hogwarts the following year. She is not informed why, though her parents are

Fourth Year: Ida enters Hogwarts with no social skills. She meets Sebastien and they're both informed of their true nature. As Ida struggles to catch up on her studies as well as train her Elemental magic, she also learns just how wonderful having friends her age is

Fifth Year: TBD

Sixth Year: Ida grows suspicious of Sebastien's "friend" Dorian. Other details TBD

Seventh Year: TBD

Post Graduation: Ida marks herself with ancient Elemental runes and her father gifts her the cottage. She spends a year and a half where almost no one hears from her, before appearing back in her friends' lives as if nothing happened, looking healthier and happier than ever

Career(s): Ida doesn't live long enough to have a career

Marriage and Children: Ida marries (TBD) from school, someone who had always had a crush on her that she eventually returned the feelings for. They spend a beautiful three years together before her end. Ida manages to give her love a son, but only after she's gone

Death: Ida sacrifices herself to stop Sebastien and Dorian from destroying the world. Ida's biggest temptation as an Elemental was always to leave her humanity behind and become nature, so she does. She traps the two men inside of a ridiculously large tree that grows out of the mountainside near her cottage. This tree forms from her body, and has a notch where her favorite necklace can be inserted to be allowed entry to the chamber Sebastien and Dorian are trapped. However, she hid the necklace in Japan, where no one will find it until a century has passed and her friends have passed away. Ida can occasionally gather her spirit into a physical form to communicate with her love and child that she left behind

Notable Facts Not Previously Mentioned

- Ida is the ancestor of my main hphm mcs, Gracie and Tessa Chiva, on their father's side

- The reason Ida is sent to Hogwarts and not Durmstrang is the fear of bad influences. No one wanted to risk her being corrupted

- Ida does feel guilty about leaving her love behind, but since she couldn't kill Sebastien and she still loved him and wanted him to be happy, this was the only way she could think of to stop him

- Her love watched her leave humanity behind. As they wept, Ida's spirit gathered to say her goodbyes, and point them to their son, who had been born from Ida's final breath at exactly 11:18 pm

- Ida thinks very highly of herself. This is both from being praised so much as a child and hearing so much about the good she can do as an Elemental

- She throws a graduation party so extravagant that it's talked about for decades after her death

- No one but her love knows what truly happened to her. All anyone else knows is that she and Sebastien disappeared at the same time

#hphl oc #hogwarts legacy #ida sommer #character profile

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amysubmits · 4 years

Text

domesticdesires

I appreciate it. To be honest I really dislike labels as far as "dominant" and "submissive", mainly because it's using adjectives as a proper noun. Like you and your boyfriend have been together for a long time and obviously you both love each other. I just find people in D/s focus more on their roles instead of who they actually are to that individual. Like if you were to introduce me to your boyfriend, would you say "I'm so and so and this is my dominant partner?"

domesticdesires

I hope I'm not offending you or anyone else. This is strictly my opinion, and clearly others are fine with the terms. Personally I prefer to recognize our relationship including domestic discipline. He's still my husband, and I his wife. I'm fine with saying I submit to him or that he leads me but looking to him and recognizing him as my dominant feels very unnatural. For me it takes away the tenderness. Yes those dynamics have to be in place, but we are more than that.

domesticdesires

*recognizing our relationship as including DD

domesticdesires

Maybe I'm uncomfortable with it because the terms are more used in BDSM.

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

I am too long winded to reply in the comments & I thought this was just sort of interesting for a post anyway.

First, I’m sorry that the way I responded to your last ask and used terms like D/s or domianant and submissive in relation to your relationship bothered you. It wasn’t my intention to label you guys as anything that you feel is incorrect or offensive. I just don’t often come across people who are bothered by these term, so when you said things like you saw dominance in your husband, I guess I just assumed that calling him dominant, a dominant, etc would not bother you. Clearly, that wasn’t an accurate assumption.

Your comments don’t offend me at all. I thought more context might help, as I don’t know that our views are as different as you might be thinking?

I use a variety, but my bio and other places say CD is my dominant partner because that’s my favorite way of putting it. The reason I like that is because it highlights our partnership, and because it uses dominant as an adjective. Speaking only for ourselves, but that is how I see us. Yes, we are a 24/7 D/s couple, but it’s not 24/7 kink. Our D/s is not based in kink, kink is an aspect of our D/s. In our 24/7 D/s, we are not role-playing. He is naturally dominant and I am naturally submissive, but we also consciously choose to embrace those traits within ourselves, within our relationship.

I see dominance and submission as traits. Not as personalities, because you could take a group of dominant people and they could have a range of personalities, and same with submissives. But I see dominance and submission as individual traits or as aspects of a personality, I suppose. I see it as an innate thing, part of how people are wired, more or less. It’s not something they take on and take off. It’s just part of them. And so that’s how it’s possible to be 24/7 D/s without role play. And it’s also how and why I say that CD is my dominant partner without feeling like that is cheapening our partnership (or if we were married, I wouldn’t see it as cheapening our marriage). I don’t see it as saying we are ‘just’ power exchange. Not at all.

But I also see D/s as a very loving, affection thing. Where your wording makes me wonder if you see it as something less than loving, or cold? I don’t. Though I think dominance is often confused with sadism.

To me, dominance is being an intentional leader who understands the responsibility that comes with leading, and who does the best to take care of those in their care.

To me, submission is being an intentional follower, who uses the “copilot” position to support their leader as much as they can.

Anything and everything that CD does that makes me feel good or takes care of me, I feel can be labeled as an aspect of his Dominance. When he pays our bills, when he asks me if I’ve taken my meds, when he holds me accountable to our rules, when he rolls over and pats my butt in the middle of the night, when he sends me otter videos, when he tells me what to do in or out of the bedroom. When he asks me to vacuum or when he tells me he thinks I should take time to be lazy and relax. When he doesn’t give me leniency when I want it, and when he gives me leniency when I feel I don’t deserve it. Dominance can be SO many things, things that seem to almost contradict themselves, even. It’s not just strictness or harshness. It’s only those things when that is what I need. When I need leniency and softness, then it’s those things. Many of the things he does that I see as aspects of his dominance, are things that loving boyfriends/husbands do, too. And the same thing with my submission. Many of the ways I serve him could be vanilla if done by a vanilla partner. We just see (and feel) them as dominance and submission because we know that him leading, protecting, guiding, taking care of, having control of, me is what makes us both feel good. And me serving, supporting and deferring to him is what feels good to him. We use these things to basically customize our love language.

So I guess my point is that...I see almost every aspect of my relationship as being tied to D/s in some way or another. That is not at all to say that we are ‘just’ D/s, or that we take our D/s more seriously than our partnership or than our love or the romantic side of our partnership. It’s that they are just one and the same. D/s is loving to us. None of it is cold or shallow. It’s all love.

I hope that helps explain where I come from when talking about our D/s. :)

#d/s #amy writes a small book #because she can't say anything in a few words #sorry #domestic discipline

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whereflowersbloom · 4 years

Text

Fly with me

Chapter III: Take a chance on us.

The tower was silent, the rest of the occupants not yet awake. The pale pink light of an autumn morning was beginning to color the horizon. Raven couldn’t sleep. She woke up a bit earlier than usual. She brew a cup of Earl Grey, added a small pitch of milk, two teaspoons of honey. Done. She was sitting quietly, started sipping her tea as she recalled the events of yesterday. She’s always been honest and open with Damian, over the years they became close comrades, friends, things changed though, lately she felt troubled looking at him in the eye. His observant eyes perceive every little detail. Her stomach was in knots and it seemed to be something not even meditation could solve. She found herself losing focus. The reason? Thoughts of Damian consuming her, completely, slowly, like a fire spreading. She had to find a way to fix this.

She heard light footsteps on the kitchen floor. She turned and looked back to find Kori.

“Raven, I’m sorry if I startled you.” Kori’s soft voice said as she smiled serenely.

“Kori, you’re up early. Good morning.” Raven replied weakly, it was evident she didn’t have a goodnight.

“Morning to you. I was sent on a mission to get an ice-pack and a mug of black coffee, for Richard.” She explained as she proceeded to brew the drink for her partner. However the Tamaranian noticed Raven’s bewildered look on her face. “Raven, is something particularly bothering you?” She asked eyebrows knit together in concern.

Raven looked at her for a minute. How was she supposed to explain the situation. It was strange and silly. On second thought, perhaps Kori could guide her, give her an idea of how to handle her emotional conflict.

“I’m not quiet sure how to deal with certain new emotions surging. It’s overwhelming at times.” She confessed.

Kori nodded and took Raven’s hand in her own. “Does these new emotions involve Damian, by any chance?” The older woman carefully inquired.

The dark haired teenager opened her eyes widely in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Call it woman’s instinct.” Kori replied confidently. There was more to it. Raven knew it. She raised her eyebrows in a silent question. “Alright. Richard did mention Damian is going through a similar situation. They had a bonding moment last night.” She gave Raven an apologetic smile, her cheeks flushed.

Raven has never been so mortified in her life and Kori was telling her, Damian Wayne, always calm, collected, disciplined, sure he had a bad temper at times, sharp tongue, but he appeared to be in control all the time. Those fits of emotions she was getting through her empathic powers were also Damian’s. Raven seemed to be notoriously absentminded, lost in her tangled thoughts. But why did they affect her so much?

She felt the weight of Kori’s hand fall on her shoulder, catching her attention, snapping back to reality. “You two have gotten intimately close over the years. Have you considered you are developing romantic feelings for each other?” The alien ex-princess asked pointedly.

She held her breath as she considered Kori’s question. Romantic feelings. It hit her like splashed water on her face. Was Damian romantically interested in her? He did ask her on a date. She was going to meet his family, formally. Oh Azar. She didn’t want to take it too seriously. Because Of her insecurities, she felt inadequate. She wasn’t human like the, after all. Even so Damian wasn’t the type of person to play around, he means his words and actions. When did this start? How? Why her? She wondered how long he has harbored affection for her. And did she like him? Of course, she did, but falling in love was never supposed to be part of her life. Until you met him she thought. In her heart he was unparalleled to anything in the universe. She admired his intelligence, his passion, he’d shown her he could be kind and thoughtful, stood up for justice in a world that was often more focused on doing what was more comfortable. He was also very attentive to her and gentle. She loved those sides of him.

“I have feelings for Damian Wayne.” Raven said quietly, speaking the words into existence, practically falling over the weight of the words she just said.

“Doesn’t it feel nice to admit it?” Kori teased her, smiling warmly.

“Oh, Kori. I have no idea what to do about it.” Raven but her lip, covering her face embarrassed.

Kori nodded, understanding her friend’s concern. “I think it’s something you two should discuss. That’s my advice. Honesty is always the answer in these cases. In my humble opinion.”

“Thanks, Kori. For your words and listening.” Her leader nodded and told her it’s what friends are for. She left the kitchen, deciding to meditate to regain composure. Think clearly before speaking with Damian about their developing bond.

~~~

Hours later, she standing in front of Damian’s door. She tried to gather courage to knock. Anxiety had poooled in her chest. She was about to do it when the door opened, the figure of Damian appearing in front of her. Both looking surprised, to see each other. She couldn’t help but smile, her heart fluttering. Had his eyes always been this beautiful, like two pools of the deepest, richest green known to human kind? His strong jawline. Apparently her presence astounded him.

“Hey, I was about to find you.” Damian said casually. Going back to his neutral expression.

“Oh. Anything you need? I also wanted to have a word with you.” Raven said looking away, feeling heat on her cheeks, her nerves getting the best of her.

“I was going to ask you. Would you mind accompanying me to walk Titus?” Damian muttered serious, masking his emotions. Be in control. Reminded himself.

“Sure. I’d love to. We can talk on the way to the park.” Raven said quietly, almost in a whisper. It’s not the first time they walk Titus together.

The park was relatively quiet for a Thursday afternoon. There were a few joggers. Other dog owners walking their canine friends or more like canines with their humans, because most of the time it seemed like the dogs made the rules. Except Titus. Damian trained him personally, and he proved be obedient and a fast learner.

Damian let Titus off his leash, he did it for a little time on their walks, so that he could get a good run and taste of freedom. He never went too far though. However sometimes he’d come back bringing an abandoned ball or an empty soda can. Damian raised his eyebrows and gave him a look and somehow Titus knew it wasnt a toy to play with. But Raven loves spoiling him, playing with him, giving him secret treats she thinks Damian doesnt know about. He didn’t mind pretending he wasn’t aware of it, if it made her happy.

“Raven” he repeated her name. “Have I done something to offend you?” He asked considering if he did something incorrect. “You haven’t said a word the entire time.”

“No!” She said loudly and feeling guilt, tentatively taking a step forward, closing the distance between them. “Actually, I want to apologize for my behavior these last days.” They were so close, she gulped nervously.

“Apologize? Why? Care to elaborate?” He said firmly, calm. His eyebrows rising questioning her.

“Perhaps I gave you the idea I wasn’t taking your proposal seriously. The date.” She exhaled. Getting a weight off her chest. Those mixed feelings messing with her again. The words stuck in her throat.

“Damian” she said holding her breath, her throat dry, heart speeding. “You like me.” said in a low voice, only Damian was able to hear it. Raven bit her lip painfully once she realized what she just said. Damian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at her words. He looked at her, analyzing her expression. Choosing his words carefully. He took a step forward.

“Yes. I like you.” He said slowly, his tone firm, direct, speaking with all seriousness. His eyes locking with hers. That was the truth, why deny it anymore? He liked to think he was doing things properly.

Even knowing it, hearing it from him, made her heart soar. Wishing to hear him say it again, and again. She didn’t want to give herself the pleasure to replay the moments in her mind. She had questions.

“But. Why?” He cut her in. He was frowning and suppressing his temper. It was exasperating how blinded she was by her self-doubts. He wanted to make his feelings and intentions clear.

“Please, stop and listen to me.” He pleaded. “How could you not understand why?” concealing his anger at her incomprehension, not understanding all the things she was. Things he discovered everyday about her. Everything she was becoming. He exhaled his frustration. And cleaned his throat.

“I could tell you a million reasons why I harbor romantic feelings for you. It’s something complicated to describe in detail. If you’d let me, I’ll, do it. But I’d rather show you.” He confessed.

He took her hands in his. They were warm, practically engulfing her small, pale hands in his larger, rougher ones. Those precious hands. Hers. His eyes were the same as they had been yesterday burning and filled with desire and passion. Her heart skipped a beat and her mouth went dry. She was breathless at his declaration.

“There’s no one quite like you. There’s only one Raven. The one I want.” Damian murmured, his voice low, soft, expressing all his devotion. “This date is a chance for us to see everything we could be together.” She took a deep breath, found truth in his emerald eyes and nodded silently. Agreeing. She would do it. Take a chance. Damian only sneezed her hands still in his gently.

It was about time for a update and I was inspired. Hope you enjoy it. 🥰🥰😂😂😂❤️💜🙈

@chromium7sky enjoy 🙊🙊

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sometimesrosy · 4 years

Note

I agree with you on most things, but where we differ is our opinion of O/the Blakes. B made the decision to bring O back into his life on his own terms & I love the Pike scene where O faced her actions, but imo the writers leaving out O's abuse of B in s3/4 was a mistake. O's first response to grieving Lincoln was to beat her brother bloody & I don't think it's honest to the story to not address that, especially since O went on to tell B she'd kill him if they weren't related. 1/2

I mean, the abuse was so bad that B thought he was pathetic for still going back to O even when she hated him, & I think it's really harmful for the writers to never address that. I guess what I'm wondering is if you think that's a bad message to send because I don't understand how it could possibly not be. 2/2

I have to say that I don’t interpret that scene quite the way you do. I see it as an assault. But I don’t believe O had enough power to be an abuser there. In that assault scene.

I read O as a character in crisis who was in danger of becoming an abuser, but to me, abuse is characterized by repeated behavior and an abuse of power, which I don’t believe she had. I do consider their relationship to be dysfunctional, but at that point, she wasn’t an abuser yet. And she wasn’t an abuser in s4 either.

I consider her abuse to have begun in the bunker.

She always had the tendency to turn to violence, but violence alone doesn’t make an abuser. She always had the tendency to blame others, but that alone doesn’t make an abuser. Bellamy and Octavia’s relationship was not a normal relationship, and it was not healthy for either of them, and he spent too much time taking responsibility for her actions and she never had to face her own responsibilities.... for very good reasons. And he was literally her jailer. He kept her captive. And he had a hard time letting her go when she was free, but he learned.

But you’ve got an interpretation that you think, for some reason, I should accept, even though I don’t agree with your interpretation. You state that it is abuse without examining it at all, and from then on, you only declare the abuse to be more severe and basically unforgivable. But it all hinges on the interpretation that Octavia was an abuser in season 4. And I understand why people would think that and I’ve never argued with people about it because I think there’s a case to be made for the interpretation and it could CERTAINLY trigger people who have experienced physical abuse INCLUDING the power issues and duration of domestic abuse, so that to them it would represent their own trauma. And that’s a completely fair way to engage.

But you haven’t made the case to me for me to agree with your basic interpretation. I don’t think that’s the message they’re sending, and you know we don’t agree on this topic, but you’re still saying that’s what’s happening even though we don’t agree, and I don’t really understand why you want me to respond to a message you think they’re sending as BAD, when I don’t think they’re sending that message.

You’ve also declared the story to be incorrect and wrong for not addressing your interpretation and I think that’s a mistake. What if you’re wrong about your interpretation, and that wasn’t the story they were telling, but you’re now holding them responsible for the story you think they should be telling and didn’t? That seems like an impossible ask.

And I think maybe they didn’t address what you say because they didn’t really write it with Octavia as “abusive.” Or maybe they did.

Maybe they’re not LOOKING to write a story where they write everything so it’s not harmful. I always saw CL as emotional and psychological abuse. But at least one writer said it wasn’t, although JR said that the world was abusive so the relationships reflected that.

Did I think they did WRONG by not making it explicit that CL was abusive and therefore bad and unhealthy. I do not. That was the story they were telling and as the audience I am not looking for my fiction to moralize for me. And if I’ll be honest, I got more out of facing my discomfort with watching CL and facing my triggers, and dealing with my OWN issues than I would have if the story were tied up with a neat bow saying ABUSE BAD!!!!

Do you think that’s what stories are FOR? To represent only the best of the world and always make it so it makes sense and good guys get good things and bad people are never forgiven because that’s “not healthy?”

I have to tell you, when season 3 happened and I saw Octavia’s behavior, I think i had a very different perspective than a lot of the audience, because I am a mandated child abuse reporter, and I was a teacher and an advocate for teenagers, and when I saw that story line, I saw a young woman in crisis. I saw an abused girl lashing out at the only person she felt safe with. Not saying it was right, but I saw the storyline not just from Bellamy’s perspective, but also from Octavia’s. I understand the cycle of abuse and how the abused can become the abuser and I saw a girl who was heading down that path because of the trauma she had been through.

So when you reframe the story and cast Octavia in the villain role, before she was actually a villain in the story, I’m just not with you.

And I don’t know why you think I should answer your charges as if you are right when I don’t think you’re right.

Your interpretation is not mine. I think you’re wrong in saying what the writers SHOULD do with their story.

If you told me “this is how I feel and this is what I don’t like,” I’d totally be sympathetic.

But instead you’re saying, ‘This is wrong, that is wrong, and that’s a bad message to send so what do you say to that?”

I think commentary where you interpret and discuss and express your feelings and what you like and what you didn’t like and what you think the meaning is? I think those are all good commentaries.

I think commentary where you say that the story is wrong because it doesn’t conform to your idea of what they SHOULD be saying and your view of the world? That is bad commentary.

Don’t like a story? Ditch it. Stop watching. Decide how the story should go and that you have the authority and power to DECLARE what is right and wrong for someone else’s story? And how everyone else should interpret it? That’s not right.

I know people say I think my interpretations are always right and that makes me arrogant but I don’t think i’m always right. I’m trying to UNDERSTAND the story being told, not decide what should be told and complaining when it doesn’t go there. If i’m off, i back track and figure out where. if something happens i don’t like, i try to figure out what it means. if a story doesn’t follow it’s own story, okay then fair enough. narrative flaw. if it DOES follow its own story and you’re pissed that it didn’t do enough on the particular scene you hated? nope.

If you don’t like the message of the story, you should stop watching. If you like some of the story but not other parts of the story, fair enough. But recognize that you just don’t like it all. I was literally triggered by 3.03, do you see me saying it shouldn’t be in the show because it sends a bad message for an abused partner to stay with the abuser? No you do not. Because I recognize that my reaction to the story is mine and mine alone and I am not going to put my emotional response onto the author or the rest of the audience. This is a TRAUMA FILLED story, and if you are offended that there is trauma and violence then you should stop watching and if you don’t, that is your choice and it is not a the fault of the writers that they are writing the show they TOLD YOU they were writing.

I don’t think they SHOULD address what you think they should address. I think they addressed the dysfunctional relationship. I think they addressed the way she treated him and I REALLY liked him standing up to her and saying she was responsible for what happened. As an abuse victim (though not physical) that made me feel good and made me feel like he had transformed himself, regardless of what she did. When he cut her out of his life because she refused to change? That resonated with my experience.

I do not believe that in this world, with Bellamy and Octavia SPECIFICALLY, that the beating she gave him felt like abuse to either of them. They were both known to get into physical fights and sacrifice their own well being in order to...well do various things, pay penance, let off steam, stall for time, entertain themselves etc. I think you’re looking at the story through your personal experience and understanding and have a difficulty understanding the story from the point of view of a person who is different from you. They aren’t like you. Their world isn’t like your world. They don’t look at violence he way you do, and so, when the story dealt with Octavia and Bellamy’s relationship, it didn’t pay the attention to the physical assault that you wanted it to.

Rather than deciding that made the story wrong, why didn’t you ever stop and look at it and wonder what it was they WERE trying to say? What it was they WERE trying to transform instead of just deciding that it failed to address your personal feelings and interpretation. You do know that authors are not inside your head, right? However, you are essentially inside THEIR heads because that’s where the story comes from.

DO I think abusers should be forgiven? If they work for it and prove that they have changed. It hasn’t worked for me IRL but I tried. I think that’s what we’re seeing with the blakes. I think the message they’re sending is different from the message you’re picking up, and I don’t know why, because I don’t know your experience. And because I need to know your experience to understand where you get your interpretation, it doesn’t work for me as an interpretation of the canon.

To be honest. You know I hate doing this anti stuff and I don’t know why you’re bringing your anti-octavia concerns to my blog. I know we’re all bored, but come on.

Why don’t you do nanowrimo and write it out the way you think it should be done. I know people would be interested in it. I personally have another 800 nano words to write today and I shouldn’t even have done this. Maybe I’m bored too. It has been really slow. I also don’t have a problem with you generally so you know I’m answering your respectful question. I just wish I didn’t have to argue with you. I avoid that part of the fandom because whenever I say I don’t agree with you guys someone calls me a racist or an abuse apologist or argues for eugenics or says I’m a misogynist or calls me arrogant. The more I try to explain my position the more names I get called. Oh wait. iT’s the PRO octavia part of the fandom who calls me a misogynist. And arrogant. Frankly both sides are the same.

Like, go ahead and hate octavia. Think they did it wrong. Fine. Leave me out of it.

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etherealblasphemy · 5 years

Text

You Never Seemed So Tense, Love

(what’s this? some actual content? on my blog? it’s more likely than you think)

hello again, y’all! it’s been a while since i’ve posted any writing, but at last, i’ve finished another fic! i hope y’all enjoy this one, i found it really fun to write. (title from “gives you hell” by the all-american rejects)

Trigger Warnings For: mild language and mentions of alcohol

Summary: Logan Guiscard loves his simple, mundane life. He most certainly does not love his next-door neighbor, Virgil Savage.

Length: 7,476 words

Kudos are appreciated, reblogs are adored, comments are loved!!

Logan Guiscard loved his life. Honestly. He loved his little suburban house that looked like almost every other home in his neighborhood. He loved his shiny car that he had to wash every weekend because if it wasn’t shining then obviously someone would think something was wrong and wouldn’t take him seriously. He loved his job as an astronomy professor at the local university where nobody cared about what the constellations were named because the Greeks were all dead, and it’s not they couldn’t just Google the names, anyways. He loved waking in the morning to see a lawn full of native plants and a little garden, because he might live in the affluent suburbs, but that didn’t mean he’d give into lawn culture, the horrid thing.

The only thing he didn’t love was his unfortunately next-door neighbor, Virgil Savage. Everything about him was simply illogical. The first thing the imbecile had done after moving in was paint the house bright purple, a stark contrast from the pastel grey every other home sported. He had a rather irritating habit of playing music a decibel too loud for Logan’s taste. He had absolutely no sense of self-care; Virgil seemed to throw on whatever clothes were clean— they were mismatched and rumbled, as if he had just taken them from his floor—and his skin was dull and most likely caked with makeup, which could easily be fixed if the man would just wash his face in the morning. Virgil Savage also had the miserable mannerism of being at least partially nocturnal.

Logan first found out about this “lifestyle” within a week of Virgil moving in. At first, he thought his neighbor was simply having trouble adjusting to his new house. And then the music started. Had it been any other time of day, perhaps Logan would have learned to let it by, to continue with his daily life. But because it was nine-thirty on a Wednesday night and Logan happened to teach Introduction to Astronomy on Thursdays at seven a.m., he marched over to the Savage house with a glare that burned hot enough to set Pluto alight, and knocked three times on the heavy door, tapping his foot incessantly as he waited for a response.

Virgil had opened the door with tired, bleak eyes the color of the Milky Way, full of enigmatic monachopsis that seemed to scream for human contact like an abandoned astronaut, and all arguments fled from the tip of Logan’s tongue. The music was even louder with the door open; the most prominent instrument was a piano that sounded like someone was slamming their fingers down on the keys in a desperate rage. Someone was screaming about friends and not wanting to leave, their voice raspy and broken.

“Do you… need something?” his neighbor had asked with a gruff voice, clutching at his elbows as if the sooner Logan left, the better. Logan had snapped out of his daze, pushing his glasses back up as he looked up at the man standing in the doorway. He couldn’t see much from where he stood on the porch.

“Yes, actually, I would like for you to turn your music down. It is impeding my ability to sleep, and I have to teach a class in the morning,” Logan explained crisply. Virgil looked him up and down, sizing up his new competitor with a smug smirk.

“Well, I dunno, teach.” Logan’s heart stopped for a full second at the nickname before his face morphed into a mask of contempt. “There’s a party going on right now, and what party is complete without music?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed as he glanced inside. He couldn’t see much besides a very much empty living room. “Apparently, a pity party,” he replied, his tone harsher than he intended. For a quarter of a second, a single frame in the movie of life, Virgil’s face had contorted, full of hurt, before quickly losing its emotion, replaced with cool nonchalance. Logan had had half the mind to apologize for his unsympathetic behavior before the song grew louder and Logan was reminded that it was late at night and he was too exhausted to deal with this sort of tomfuckery.

He was about to launch into a full debate to convince this heathen to turn his music down to a respectable volume when another figure came careening through the living room by way of an unseen doorway, crashing into Virgil with raucous, drunken giggles.

“Broooooo…” the newcomer slurred, his arms wrapped around Virgil’s neck for support. “You gotta finish that assignment of yours. You wanna pass the class, donya? Come ooooon,” he wheedled. Virgil’s face flushed as the stranger whined.

“Roman, how much have you drunk?”

“…a bottle.”

“A bottle?! Dee let you drink a whole bottle?!” Virgil’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, his mouth hanging open in disbelief as he turned, facing the living room that still held no-one despite the “party” raging on inside. “Dee! I’m gonna kick your ass!” he yelled as he unwrapped Roman’s arms from his neck. Virgil’s eyes glanced back at Logan. “Sorry about my friend.”

With that, Virgil pushed Roman further into the house, muttering in exasperation as he shut the door without another word to Logan. The teacher blinked before he regained his senses. He scoffed at the sudden cut-off from his neighbor, rolling his eyes. There was nothing else he could do now besides head back home and shove a pillow over his ears to muffle the music.

It was only when he finally slipped into bed that he realized he could only hear the sound of crickets and someone’s air conditioner whirring in the late August night heat.

The music had been turned off.

He hated himself for believing that it would end that night with a simple confrontation. The next week, the music was up again. Logan was too busy grading incomplete and frustratingly incorrect constellation maps to tell off Virgil, and let it be. But then it happened again the next week. And the next. It seemed to Logan that Virgil was just trying to get a rise out of him at this point. When he called his brother he ask for advice, the only promising words he got was “talk to him.”

“Patton, you don’t understand. I have talked to him, he just won’t listen,” he sighed as his brother listened intently over the video call, constantly adjusting his round glasses.

“Now, Logan, you know that everybody communicates in different ways. Maybe he is listening, but he just can’t communicate in a way you understand.” Patton adjusted his glasses again as he tilted his head, a thought striking him. “Maybe he’s trying to get your attention?”

Logan sighed, thinking about Virgil. Would he really be the type of person to annoy him just to get his attention? Virgil didn’t need to play music at an irritating volume for Logan’s consideration of him—those sonderous eyes plagued him almost as much as the music did.

Hold on. What did he just think?

“Are you alright, Logan? You’re making face you always do whenever I correct on your grammar. You know—like someone just ate all the second cookies,” Patton giggled. Logan heard someone talking in the background as Patton turned away from the camera, listening to the person off-screen. “Yep! Do you wanna come say hi to him?” Logan heard a sound of acquiescence and the pounding of footsteps as someone ran down the hallway of his brother’s apartment.

“Hiya there, Logan!” He flinched as Patton’s partner, Emile, popped up in front of the camera. “I heard you were in a jam!” The psychiatrist held up a jar of jam as Logan groaned at the pun, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I don't know which is worse—your puns or Virgil’s music,” he grumbled goodnaturedly as the partners collapsed into laughter that sounded choppy in the low quality audio of his laptop. He ran a hand through his hair as he checked the time, cringing at the late hour. “I’m sorry, Patton, but I’ll have to sign off now. It’s getting late and I have the wonderful blessing of teaching a morning class tomorrow. I’ll see you next weekend, correct?” His brother nodded as he and Emile wished Logan goodnight.

As he turned off his computer, his mind wandered back to the original topic of his and Patton’s conversation—Virgil. He couldn’t possibly be engaging in this childish feud because he was, what, interested in him? Logan snorted aloud, shaking his head. Virgil was obviously only toying with him.

“Well, then,” he whispered aloud as he slipped into bed, ready to fall asleep. “Two can play that game.”

He wasn’t able to put his plan into motion until the following weekend, just before he had to pick up Patton from the airport. It was quite simple, in Logan’s opinion, but then again, he reminded himself, he had to be on the road by at least nine so he could pick up Patton from his eleven-o-clock arrival, so complex schemes were out of the question until he had the time and reason to do such. Thus, he found himself setting a heavy speaker down on the edge of his front porch, his phone already connected to it. He had deliberated for a while on what song to use before settling on the timeless classic of “Hooked on a Feeling”.

He was about to turn on the speaker when he felt his phone vibrating in his hand. He turned it on to see a text from Patton: “So… I might have told you the wrong arrival time…” Immediately, he called his brother.

“What do you mean, ‘wrong arrival time’?” he questioned as soon as Patton picked up.

“Well, I’m here now. At the airport. It turns out the flight isn’t as long as I thought it was…” He could hear incessant chatter in the background and could clearly picture the dismal little airport that never seemed to stop renovating one wing or another, resulting in utter chaos when it came to an orderly flight schedule. “If you’re busy, don’t worry. I can wait a few hours—”

“Don’t be silly, Patton,” Logan interrupted. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes if the traffic’s alright.” He was already grabbing his keys from inside, throwing on a jacket, and unlocking his car doors. “Have you eaten yet?” The silence was answer enough for him. “There’s plenty of options around. Just be sure to eat something healthy, alright? And remember to get your bags,” he sighed as he started the car, the engine a gentle thrum beneath him.

“Alright, Logan, I will. See you in a bit. Thanks for picking me up.” The call disconnected, leaving Logan in the silence of his car before he decided surprisingly that he couldn’t stand the quietude and turned on the car radio as he backed out of the driveway, unaware of the jet black eyes that watched him go sadly.

Logan made to the airport in forty minutes, actually. He found Patton sitting at the counter of a small shop selling dumplings and baobaos, giddily eating the delicious food. He watched with a soft smile for a moment as Patton snuck a bite of a dumpling to the golden retriever laying on the floor beneath him, her vest proudly displaying her role as a service dog. As Patton straightened, he finally noticed his brother standing several feet away.

“Logan!” he called excitedly, waving him over. Logan’s feet moved on their own, small steps turning into bounds as he ran to his brother and hugged him tightly. “I’ve missed you, too, Logan. It doesn’t seem that university can end soon enough.” Logan’s grip tightened before he released his brother. He felt something nose at his leg and looked down to see Lola nudging at his leg, staring up at him with puppy eyes, despite knowing full well she was not a puppy, by size nor age standards.

He crouched down and ran a hand through her fur as Lola’s tail began beating excitedly. “Hello to you, too,” he said as Lola barked softly in greeting. “You’ve got your bags?” he asked as he stood up. Patton nodded, finishing the last dumpling, and clambered off his stool, thanking the shop owners as he grabbed the handles of his two suitcases in both hands. “I’ll hold on to Lola.” He grabbed the golden retriever’s lease, untying it from the chair’s leg, and began guiding the dog and his brother through the dim airport to the parking lot.

It was nine forty a.m. when they got home. The sun was glimmering, bearing down with no qualms onto the earth with a fierce intensity that seemed to rake across their backs with a near unbearable heat. Patton took one look at the speakers still set up on Logan’s porch and turned around, stopping in his tracks.

“Logan, what are you planning?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to listen to some music while I washed my car,” he explained, even though he knew his car was clean and it was pointless to try and wash it when it was supposed to rain that night, anyways. Patton’s eyes narrowed with a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

“You’re going to play music, aren’t you?” he proclaimed, twirling around and pointing at Logan with one finger and a sly smile as though he was a detective who had just solved the most difficult case ever presented to him. “Oh, I knew that look meant something! You looked so starry-eyed when we were talking about Virgil!” Logan blanched as he gasped in indignation.

“I did not look starry-eyed! He’s not even my friend, he’s just my neighbor!”

“A neighbor who you call on every Wednesday night,” Patton teased as Logan brushed past him with a groan of frustration, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

“It’s his fault, Patton, he’s the one who plays punk rock from the 2000s and 70s and 80s pop songs played on what I think might be an organ louder than a plague of cicadas at ten-thirty at night.” Patton could only laugh at Logan’s description as he made his way into the kitchen and opened the fridge, already making himself at home.

“Sure, Logan.” Patton’s brow furrowed as he surveyed the fridge and its contents. “How many jars did Mom give you last time?”

“I counted twenty—wait, don’t change the subject, Patton!” Logan chastised. Lola spoke—or, rather, barked—up, woofing at the brothers as if to say, “stop talking about your neighbor and feed me.”

When at last Lola was fed and Patton had dropped his suitcases down in the guest room, it was nearing ten a.m.; he was finally able to step outside and stretch in the sun. Out of habit, he glanced at Virgil’s house, half expecting to see strobe lights flashing wildly behind the curtains, and saw nothing. He paused, his thoughts turning to the speaker still sitting abandoned on his porch. Was Virgil still asleep? An evil grin split across his face as he pulled out his phone, finding the song easily.

“I hope you like the taste of your own medicine,” he mumbled as he pressed played. Immediately, sound poured out of the speaker, the lowest notes tapping a familiar rhythm on his heart. He could just barely hear the sounds of confusion in the other house, following by the door slamming open as Virgil stumbled out in his pyjamas.

Well, he couldn’t really call them pyjamas. Virgil was covered—thankfully, of all the bad habits Virgil partook in, sleeping in the nude was not one of them—but just barely. He wore grey boxers beneath a violet tank top at least two sizes too big for him, and not much else. And perhaps Logan blushed furiously at the sight of sunshine on Virgil’s lanky arms and pale legs, but it was just from the heat. Just the heat.

Not that any of that mattered. Logan was too busy watching Virgil nearly trip over his feet as he shambled about in his lawn, momentarily blinded by the sun, to think any more about Virgil’s limbs. As his eyesight adjusted, Virgil noticed Logan standing in his own yard, then saw the speaker blasting music, and put two-and-two together.

“Do you know what time it is?” Virgil groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Logan snickered.

“It’s nine-fifty-two a.m., which is a more reasonable time than ten-forty-five at night,” he shot back. Virgil snorted before covering it with a cough. “Even if you wake up late, you should at least go to bed at a reasonable time. A good bedtime is crucial to a healthy life,” he lectured as Virgil raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

“Oh, getting worried about me, now? Careful, teach, or someone will think you’ve caught feelings for me,” Virgil chaffed, his eyes bright now in the daylight, intelligent and unrelenting in their mirth. Logan spluttered, unable to form a proper response. “Beware, Logan Guiscard. You’ve opened up a Pandora’s Box now.” Virgil’s voice was deep and full of laughter—like Logan was missing out on the funniest joke ever told. “I hope you like punk rock.”

He couldn’t stop himself from saying, “It’s you’ve been playing, how could it ever get old?” This time, Virgil snorted for real, chuckling uncontrollably as he backed away towards his house. Logan knew he wouldn’t get that sound out of his head for weeks. Virgil paused as he reached the doorstep of his home, glancing back over his shoulder.

“…I was finishing a report for my theoretical astrobiology class, by the way. I finished a little past midnight. Sorry for wanting to sleep in. I’ll make sure to let my professor know next time that I wasn’t able to finish my paper because my neighbor cared about me.” Logan physically stepped back, stunned. Virgil was taking university classes? And astronomy-related classes at that? Sweet heavens. Somehow, Logan’s face grew even more heated in the August sun.

Too bad Virgil had already left before Logan could find out more.

It wasn’t like Virgil hadn’t warned him. Logan could clearly recall him referencing Greek mythology (which another one of his passions that just so luckily gave him an advantage in astronomy) as he swore to wreak havoc on Logan’s life. Now, perhaps he hadn’t used those exact words, but it was exactly what was happening at nine p.m. on a Tuesday night in the middle of his late-night astronomy class. The class was too far gone now to be reigned back in, the music was still pouring in through hidden speakers, and all Logan could do was stare at Virgil like his whole world had been shattered as his neighbor laughed with his whole body, the sound loud and full of life and shaking Logan’s very core.

He had been in the middle of explaining which constellations appeared during which seasons—it was the beginning of the semester and he had learned the hard way to always begin with the basics—when the music first started. He had been so envirgorated in his explanation of the importance of the North Star that he hadn’t heard it until one of his students asked if whoever was listening to Fall Out Boy would please turn the volume down. Logan had stopped in his tracks, eyes snapping back to reality with a sinking feeling of déjà vu, and listened.

Unfortunately, his dread was well-met. The sounds of Fall Out Boy’s “Thnks fr th Mmrs” were pouring in from all sides of his classroom; Logan scowled, already searching for the familiar pair of inky eyes that bedeviled his dreams and late-night musings. “Virgil Savage!” he yelled, praying that the incident was actually Virgil’s fault and not some poor student who just happened to have the exact same music interests as his neighbor. “You better show yourself before I make you!”

The laughter was more of a giveaway than anything else. Virgil slumped in the doorway, his smirk so infuriating yet charming all the same. He gave a two-fingered salute to the professor as he held up his phone, waving in his trademark teasing manner. Virgil paid no mind to the students staring at the occurrence with rabid curiosity; his focus was on Logan as he bit his bottom lip and held out the phone towards the professor as though inviting him closer.

“You want the music off?” he asked, his deep voice gliding out of his mouth and wrapping itself around Logan’s body like venti of the ancient age. Logan nodded silently and unceremoniously, unable to think of a good retort. “Come and turn it off yourself.”

That was what had sent his class into chaos. One of them had yelled “Dance party!” immediately after, jumping up from his seat and flailing his arms around in what Logan could only assume to be dancing—an attempt at dancing, at the very least. Logan glared at Virgil as he stalked slowly towards the interloper, the sounds of students nothing but background noise at this point. He leaned closer to Virgil, his eyes full of wrath.

“Turn that music off right now,” he hissed.

“You’re staying up too late. If I can’t sleep in, you can’t stay out,” was Virgil’s only response. Logan stuttered.

“You—I—I am teaching a class!”

“And I’m not turning the music off,” Virgil continued. “I told you, if you want it off—” Virgil other hand grabbed Logan’s waist, pulling him into a dip as the professor yelped in surprise and the students cheered Virgil on. “—you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

It took a full five seconds to pass before Logan’s brain rebooted, shutting down the moment Virgil’s warm touch had met his starved skin. Once his reason returned, he wrangled himself out of his neighbor’s arms with several muttered swears and all but ripped Virgil’s phone out of his hands, turning the music off quickly and shoving the device back towards his neighbor. He glared daggers at the interloper for good measure as he retreated back into the comforts of his classroom with a scowl on his face.

“You’re not getting enough sleep either, teach. What was it you said? Yeah, I remember now: ‘a good bedtime is crucial to a healthy lifestyle.’” Virgil smirked as he watched Logan try to reign in his class, to no avail, those dark irises of his eyes holding something mysterious Logan would love to unravel if it weren’t for the classroom of fifty students in the process of losing their minds. “Of course, not letting loose every once in a while and refusing to humor your everloving neighbor really takes a hit on you, doesn’t it?” Logan glanced at Virgil as he paused from removing a recording phone from particularly stubborn student, focusing on the annoyance swirling through him instead of the rapid, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it wave of warmth that overcame him at the sight of Virgil’s eyes, half hooded by his black-painted eyelids and full of curiosity—curiosity for Logan. That particular feeling he shoved back into the recesses of his mind.

“Virgil Savage, escort yourself out of this room or I will have security do so. We will continue this at a later date.” Virgil only grinned wickedly as he saluted once more and slinked behind the door frame, disappearing in the myriad of hallways.

“How about we continue it tomorrow at Bourbon Coffee? I hear they make great croissants!” Virgil shouted back. Logan stopped dead in his tracks, his head whipping towards the door in shock. But in true Virgil fashion, he was gone before Logan could find out more.

His only hope to gain another piece of the puzzle that was Virgil Savage was to meet him at Bourbon Coffee tomorrow morning.

He prayed he would survive their encounter.

Logan woke up to the mouth-watering smell of french toast the next morning, a smile already on his face. He found his brother in the kitchen, slipping Lola little bites of bacon as he cooked.

“What is all this for, Patton? Don’t you trust me to make my own breakfast?” he asked as he patted Lola, who showed off her canines with a beam.

“One of Emile’s former patients is one of your students. They told a little story on Twitter, and Emile found out and told me!” Patton swiveled around, almost whacking Logan in the face with his spatula. “How come you didn’t tell me you were going on a date?” Logan huffed, swiping a slice of bacon from the plate where they were cooling.

“It’s not a date,” he argued. “This might be my only chance to actually deal with Virgil besides throwing a pillow over my ears.” Patton chuckled, leaving the conversation as he finished cooking and slid two slices of french toast onto a nearby plate and handing it to Logan, throwing a smaller slice on the floor for Lola to wolf down. He continued his points as he ate. “Besides, I wouldn’t even call our relationship a friendship—”

“Alright, first off, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Patton interrupted as he maneuvered them both to sit at the dining room table. “Second of all.” Patton waited until Logan looked up at his brother, holding his gaze. “Do you want it to be a friendship?” he asked gently, knowing the look that was growing in Logan’s eyes.

“…Truth be told, Patton… I do. Virgil…” Logan sighed, unsure how he could ever explain his interest in Virgil if he couldn’t explain the greatest mysteries of the universe, which were far more comprehensible than the mind and soul of his neighbor. “…Virgil is unexplainable. I try to understand him. But I can’t… Am I wrong to want to understand him?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Patton’s lips as he regarded his brother. “No. Not at all.” Patton’s grin turned mischievous. “But date or not, I still get to be excited! You never go out, it’s nice to see you having fun for once.” For once, Logan did not respond to Patton, allowing himself to genuinely grin.

Fun…

It wasn’t a foreign word in his dictionary, but its page wasn’t dog-eared the way other words were. It didn’t have the significance of ebullience (bubbly enthusiasm—it reminded him of his brother), it didn’t have the importance of syzygy (the alignment of celestial bodies—he always found some way to weave it into his lectures), it didn’t roll across his tongue with the same effortlessness of hiraeth (homesickness for a place that never was or cannot be returned to—plus, it tied into his efforts to learn the Welsh language). Fun was not an unknown word, but it was not one mulled over like wine as he pondered his place in the universe.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t reintroduce it to his vocabulary, relearn the way it sounded, the way it felt running along his vocal cords.

Patton could tell what was going through his brother’s mind. He sat back lazily as he ate his breakfast, his smile just barely concealing his pride. “It’s almost nine, by the way,” he added. “You should get ready soon.” Logan nodded, only a little disappointed that they had to end their moment of peace so quickly.

Far too soon, he found himself ready to go, with the exception of a stomach that wouldn’t stop churning. Logan had no idea why he was so nervous—at best, he and Virgil would get coffee and talk without tearing each other’s head apart, and at worst they would just continue their feud like normal. It wasn’t like things going wrong would ruin his life irreversibly—so why did Logan feel the need to impress Virgil, to make things go perfectly?

He pushed those musings to the back of mind for later analysis. He headed outside to be met with the uncomfortable heat he was so used to yet hated all the same. Wearing a black cotton button down did nothing to relieve the suffocating heat against his body. Silently, he cursed the sun as he glanced about, wondering where Virgil was. It hit him that they had never agreed to a specific time. For all Logan knew, Virgil could already by at the coffee shop waiting for him.

Swallowing thickly—he didn’t know why, he had no reason to be nervous—Logan walked over to his neighbor’s house and rapped his knuckles against the door, tapping his foot incessantly as he waited.

The door opened to reveal… not-Virgil. Logan vaguely recalled him as the drunken man who had popped up behind Virgil the first time he had given his neighbors a visit, though he could not remember the man’s name for the life of him. The man yawned, staring at Logan.

“You’re that teacher Virgil’s obsessed with, right?” he asked.

“…Yes?” Logan wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that, even if his heart did flutter a little bit at it. “Is he inside? We’re supposed to meet at Bourbon Coffee, but he failed to give a time. I thought it would be logical to go with him so we arrive at the same time.”

The man at the door chuckled. “Virgil’s got a date, eh?”

Logan flushed against his will. “Alright—first of all, it is not a date, and second of all, would you please just tell me where he is?” he pleaded. The man nodded with a lopsided grin, glancing behind him.

“He’s still asleep. Probably thought the date would be a late one,” he drawled, laughing at the way Logan grumbled at the continued use of the word “date.” The man stuck out his hand, at last (re)introducing himself. “I’m Roman. Nice to properly meet you.” Logan took his hand politely, shaking it as he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as he looked inside the house to hopefully see Virgil.

“I’m Logan Guiscard. Pleasure to meet you as well,” he said, biting back his frown when he couldn’t see his enigmatic neighbor. He drew his hand back with an awkward sigh. “Well, please let me know when Virgil wakes. I would rather go with him to the coffee shop than wait for him.” Roman nodded, saying he would, and closed the door to leave Logan standing on the porch with a heavy heart, though he decided it was better not to analyze why he felt disappointed that he wasn’t able to see Virgil.

Logan felt his phone vibrate and saw a text from his brother. Are you there yet? it read. He texted back a quick response, smirking devilishly when a notification from his music service popped up, giving him a positively evil idea. He tapped on the notification, opening the app, and scrolled until he found a song Virgil would adore waking up to.

“Would you mind if I listened to some music while I waited?” Logan asked Roman as innocently as possible. The neighbor shrugged. He bit back his sly grin as he subtly turned his volume all the way, connecting to his speaker, which remained on the porch from their last morning encounter. He pressed play, and let himself smile at last as chaos erupted to the sound of My Chemical Romance’s “Planetary (GO!)”.

The first thing to happen was Roman bursting into laughter as he realized what was happening. The second thing to happen was a series of shouts from inside Virgil’s house. Two people emerged from the shadows—someone Logan had yet to meet, and Virgil. He felt himself smile without thinking at the sight of his neighbor. Virgil’s eyes were hooded and full of exhaustion, bent on the murder of whoever woke him up so early. They cleared upon seeing Logan, lighting up like fireworks, but quickly narrowed as he put two and two together and realized Logan was behind his early wake-up.

“Y’know, if it weren’t for the fact that I love this song, I would be throttling you, you damn player,” Virgil mumbled with a tired laugh. He was murmuring along to the lyrics, holding out a hand to the teacher. “Come on, aren’t you going to dance with me?” For a moment, Logan felt like he had landed on an alien planet, because in no galaxy would this ever happen, but the moment passed as soon Logan realized, foreign planet or not, there was no way he would ever refuse.

He took Virgil’s hand with a sheepish smile, a silent apology for his lack of skill when it came to the aesthetic movement of his awkward limbs. Virgil didn’t seem to mind as they danced—well, to call it dancing would be pushing it. It was more like what Patton had once described as “moshing”, a frantic but energizing thrashing of arms and legs with no regards of what others thought. It was fun. Logan found that he actually liked it—or perhaps it was only because Virgil was dancing with him, and in a few minutes they would be grabbing coffee together like a real couple… of friends.

When at last the song ended, both of them were gasping for air as they laughed like the idiots they were. Logan was grinning so hard it hurt, but he found he didn’t care. I like him. I really like him a lot.

For once, the thought didn’t scare him.

“I’m guessing you want to head to Bourbon Coffee?” Virgil was asking him. Logan nodded wordlessly, unable to speak as he regained his breath. Virgil smiled softly. “I’ll go change, then. I’ve shown up wearing pyjamas too many times, they’ll probably kick me out this time.” Virgil hurried inside to change out of his night clothes, leaving Logan alone with Roman and the new person.

“We haven’t met before, I’m Logan Guiscard,” he introduced, holding out a hand to them. Their eyes flickered over Logan for a moment.

“Desmond Inoni. Call me Dee. You’re the teacher Virgil’s obsessed with,” the man stated cooly, amused as Logan blushed furiously, spluttering incessantly. The teacher was unable to voice his objections further, as Virgil came running out, hopping on one foot as he shoved a black sneaker on. “You two have fun,” Dee called as they set off. Virgil flipped him off playfully over his shoulder as Logan motioned for him to get in the teacher’s car.

In ten minutes, they were sitting down in the cafe with their hot coffee. Logan had gotten a simple black coffee, with about a bucket of added sugar, and Virgil had ordered some complex drink the bartender seemed to have had memorized. They sat in a corner booth by the window, enjoying the company of some calming, though probably fake, spider plants. Logan tried his best to be inconspicuous as he studied Virgil Savage, the mystery himself. He studied the way Virgil bobbed slightly to the cliché electro swing, the way the sunlight lit up the dusk in his eyes, the way his lips curved when he smiled as he spoke about his short-lived endeavor to become a musician to pay his way through college.

“What about you?” Virgil inquired. “How did you pay for college?”

“I won a scholarship by writing about astronomy. Being a teaching assistant helped to pay for the rest,” he explained. “I had to work quite hard to keep my scholarship, so I never had as many chances to make relationships—platonic or otherwise.” He caught Virgil’s gaze as he mumbled, “This is actually the first time I’ve been out with someone besides my brother and his partner…” Virgil’s eyes visibly widened in disbelief.

“Never?!” Logan shook his head, less melancholic than the last time he had mused over the young adulthood he never had. Somehow, sharing his woes with his neighbor lessened their meaning. Virgil took a sip of his drink before continuing, looking out beneath his thick eyelashes. “…I’m glad you thought my company was worthy enough for you, Logan.”

Logan knew he would treasure the way Virgil said his name for eons, forever and ever until the final star burned out and left the universe dark. He would always remember the way his heart skipped a beat, something slotting into place. Even if nothing came of this experience, even if by some reason he never saw Virgil again, even if the world ended right that moment and he was the last being alive, he would know that he had fallen in love with Virgil Savage.

But his neighbor was not meant to be his soulmate. Virgil didn’t love him.

“Logan? You okay?” Virgil was waving his hand in front of his face, worry swimming in his eyes. “You kinda disassociated for a moment. Don’t worry, I do it all the time.” Logan almost chuckled at Virgil’s small blush. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he promised. “Just… glad you think my company is worth an early rise.” Virgil cracked a smile with a huff, shaking his head.

“Don’t think this changes things,” he warned. “I have a whole playlist you’re going to fall asleep to.”

“That would sound adorable and affectionate if I didn’t know what a scoundrel you truly are,” Logan fired back with a smirk of his own. “I promise I’ll have my own songs to share with you in the early morning hours.” Virgil laughed loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

They sat and talked for what must have been hours, trading anecdotes, questions, and life advice. He learned that Virgil had grown up half an hour away in the backwoods of suburbia, that his favorite color was violet, his favorite animal was a bird of paradise because their dances were beautiful and stupid at the same time, that his parents were divorced but were still friends, that his biggest wish as a young, dumb kid was to be an astronaut and die among the stars. In return, he told Virgil about himself, how his mother had died when he was nine but he loved his stepmother just as much, how his adoration of space began when an astronaut came to his school, how his favorite article of clothing was an old baggy sweatshirt from his first year teaching.

Yet all good things must come to an end, and eventually Virgil had to ruefully apologize that he had an appointment he needed to go to, and had to leave.

He watched Virgil leave wistfully, stirring what remained of his coffee with a cheap plastic stick as he let his thoughts wander over mountains and meadows. Somehow, by some chance, he was in love with Virgil Savage.

Even if Virgil never loved him back, he would make sure to cherish him. He would love and he would lose, yes, but he knew it would be better than to love and to imagine what could have been.

The climax to it all came about a week later, after many continued meetups. Virgil had been hinting at some big finale to it all for the past few days, and Logan was both incredibly excited and incredibly terrified of what his neighbor was planning.

It happened on a clear October night, just as Logan was winding down from a particularly tiring day. Patton was packed and ready to leave tomorrow morning, already sleep despite the early evening hour, and as much as his puns and jokes exasperated Logan to no end, he was going to miss his brother.

The teacher was sitting at the dining room table, finishing up reading a student’s paper. He rubbed at his fluttering eyelids, trying to keep himself from falling asleep as he took another sip from his water, determined to have all his papers graded before he went to sleep. He glanced at his watch every few minutes, chastising himself for checking so often as though he were waiting for something, quickly righting his course of focus back to his yet-to-be-graded papers.

He was about to call it a night and resign himself to an early morning finishing yesterday’s work when it happened. Through the window, which he had left open so he could enjoy the sounds of the night, came the telltale beginnings of trouble, a faint rumble Logan had come to recognize as a bassline emanating from his neighbor’s house.

As he began to hear the lyrics, he tipped back his head with a groan that couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be exasperated or amused. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me…” he muttered as he pushed away from the table to stumble to the window and stand bewildered at the apparent absence of life in the Savage household. Not even a bedroom light was on inside, and it seemed either Virgil had fallen asleep to The All-American Rejects, or this was Virgil’s finale. He knew it was the latter.

Sighing, he pushed away from the table with a clatter of his chair. Running a hand through unkempt tangles of hair, Logan all but shoved the door open and walked out into the brisk night, letting the overwhelming intensity of the song wash over him and take all worries of the papers on his kitchen table away from his mind. Then he noticed movement from one of the windows, and Logan knew to prepare himself for an overly dramatic performance that would have cemented his love for his neighbor if the secret space enthusiasm and the wistful eyes hadn’t already done so.

Logan’s hypothesis proved correct when the bridge of the song began, and people poured out of the house, just like in the music video—which he had watched dozens of times, in a long playlist titled “virgil’s favorites -- memorize!!”, because if he was going to be in love with the man, he might as well know more about what he liked.

And, just like in the music video, they began chanting the ever-plaguing verse as Virgil, playing the role of Tyson Ritter, strutted slowly and calmly down the steps to the teacher’s driveway, where Logan was waiting for him, an exasperated smirk greeting his neighbor.

As soon as Virgil was within an earshot, Logan called to him. “Is this your finale, then?” Virgil’s eyes lit up with playfulness as he stood toe to toe with the teacher, his grin bigger than a full moon.

“Was it too predictable for you?” Virgil retorted with a glimmer of affection in his voice.

“Perhaps,” Logan replied in the same dramatic air as Virgil. “Though I’m beginning to think maybe it’s because I’m rubbing off on you.”

“And maybe it’s because I’m letting you rub off on me. Maybe I like it,” Virgil laughed as he stepped but an inch closer. Logan could see the little discolored speckles in Virgil’s eyes now, from how close they were. Almost close enough to kiss, his brain supplied (un)helpfully.

At once, Logan’s entire demeanor changed. They were close enough to kiss, weren’t they? He’d been fantasizing about it on more than one occasion, though Logan always classified them as nothing but. Nothing but fantasies to tuck away for reminiscing. But here, under starlight, with Virgil looking like a Lunar Queen, with those mesmerizing eyes trapping his, those fantasies seemed more like memories.

“Logan,” Virgil whispered. And like that, the spell was broken. Logan broke from his dreaming to hear a silent night once more, the song having ended without his notice. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Virgil beat him to it. “Look up.”

And, oh, wasn’t that a sight.

“I was wondering why you weren’t outside watching the meteor shower, and when I texted Patton, he said you were grading papers. Can you believe it? Missing the coolest thing in the world for a couple of dead trees?” Virgil was saying, his voice soft and gentle as a blanket.

Logan, of course, was too busy looking to hear him.

Not looking at the meteor shower—oh, no, no. As gorgeous as the black-blue-purple swashes of paint across the heavens was, as breath-taking as the falling stars were, as inspiring as the night sky captured in pure happiness was, none of it compared to the beauty he was so enraptured by—the beauty, of course, being the look of pure awe in Virgil’s eyes as he watched the meteors shoot across the sky.

Without thinking, Logan leaned over, and kissed him.

It was brief, but as soon as he pulled away, he said, “I think I love you.” Just to cement it, of course. To make sure Virgil knew.

The man in question stared at Logan, his eyes wide with surprise, and lips parted in an unspoken gasp. Virgil said nothing. He only grabbed the back of Logan’s neck and pulled him for a second, better kiss.

Two shooting stars crossed the sky together above them, as if in love.

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phcking-detective · 5 years

Text

7. Partners, Stasis, & Fresh Hot Murder

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 7/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: sleepover 2.0, insomnia, nightmares, crying, referenced childhood abandonment, technically that’s for both Gavin and Nines, references to abuse in general, very sad backstories, oversharing, not-quite-bed-sharing, gunshot victim, blood, wounds described medically but not too graphically, implied homophobia

Link on AO3

***

The human one apartment below is smoking. The toxins drift up through the air vents in Gavin's apartment and contaminates his living room as well. The neighbor directly to the left snores loudly from a severe case of sleep apnea, and in two apartments up and one over, a male and female human couple are having sex. The male has to pause his rhythm every thirty seconds to prevent premature ejaculation.

Nines dismisses a possible mission statement urging him to kick down their apartment door and pleasure the female human himself. That would be extremely unpleasant for everyone involved (most of all himself) but if that man doesn't—

does not—

A preconstruction of Gavin's voice finishes the thought.

[doesn't figure out where her fucking clit is]

Nines is going to scream.

Or maybe go suffocate the human snorting and gasping again. If it cannot even breathe right while sleeping, two of humanity's most basic subroutines, Nines will be doing the collective genetic pool a favor.

[There is a traffic accident at 51st and Harvard with two inj]

Nines disables that notification feed for the fifth time tonight. He relocates from the corner of Gavin's living room that gives the best sightlines to the front door and sits on the couch instead. Laying prone would put him in too vulnerable a position but perhaps sitting will be an acceptable compromise.

[initiating: STASIS protocol in 5]

[4 …]

[3 …]

[A burglary has been reported at 5777 North]

Nines stands. The length of Gavin's living room is ten paces for him. The kitchen extends it another four-and-a-half paces but the fake-tile linoleum actually manages to be an even worse texture than the carpet.

[equip shoes]

[exit the building]

[return to location: apartment – personal]

Nines runs the preconstruction. He has not previously achieved stasis at that location either. His chance of doing so tonight are minimal. At least here he has access to his partner's vital statistics in case of—

Nines snaps his head over to stare at the bedroom door. That.

He waits in silence for several seconds. The apartment complex continues to be a cacophony of depression and depravity. Detective Gavin Reed's vitals maintain his highest priority however, and the next sniffle overrides all other audio input.

Nines enters Gavin's bedroom. He has not been given permission to do so, but police units are also allowed to enter residencies without permission if they hear sounds of distress.

His entrance is quiet enough to go unnoticed and Gavin appears to have his face pressed too deeply into his pillow to note the temporary increase of light before he closes the door. This further validates Nines' stance on sleep and vulnerability.

"Detective."

Nines is rewarded for checking in on his sleeping partner with a shout and a gun aimed at his face. Excellent. Since the human is biologically required to sleep, it makes sense that he would do so with a weapon beneath his pillow.

"Detective."

"Jesus—you! Phck!!”

Gavin has to stop to sniffle again, voice thick and congested. Nines resists the urge to purchase a neti pot, have it express delivered, and waterboard his sinuses with it.

“Goddammit, Nines, what do you want?" he demands, lowering the gun.

"I heard sounds of distress."

"I will fucking shoot you."

The gun stays safely pointed at the floor. Nines zooms in on the tear tracks on Gavin's cheeks. His analysis system helpfully pops up in his HUD in preparation for taking a sample, but he doubts he's allowed to touch the human's face at this moment.

Nines leaves the room.

He can still hear Gavin muttering of course. Complaining about being woken up (incorrect; the human was already awake and crying) and fucking androids (the expletive, not the action), and then yelling at him to come back and close the door. Nines does so when he returns with a chair from the kitchen. He sets the chair against the wall and sits down.

"What?" Gavin stares at him. "What—?"

He suddenly ducks his head down, flicks the safety on, and tucks his service weapon back between the mattress and the wall. His BPM increases until he finally throws the covers back and sits up at the edge of the bed to glare wildly at Nines with direct eye contact.

"Is this what you wanted to fucking see, huh?"

Nines notes that his armpits are soaked with sweat. Red marks mar the skin of his inner thighs. The scrapes are consistent with human nails, from a hand approximately the size of the human’s own. There is a substance between Gavin's nails that his system prompts him to analyze, so it is likely blood and skin tissue.

His phallus is also in a state of arousal, pressed up beneath his boxers. The human tenses when Nines' scan focuses on that. Sometimes fear can also produce arousal. If Nines were allowed to analyze Gavin's fluids, he could determine if the sweat and tears his body has manufactured are a result of fear, stress, or aggression.

"You wanna see a human cry?" Gavin spits in the silence. "Front row seat to my fuckin' meltdown?"

Nines rises again and relocates the chair next to the bed. Gavin lifts his legs up and scrambles back in a rare fear response. Nines sits in the chair, now turned parallel to the bed so he faces the same direction Gavin would if he laid back down.

"You should lay back down, detective," Nines suggests.

"Fuck you."

Gavin lays back down. He grabs the sweat-soaked sheets and pulls them up in a heap, bundling them around his head and burrowing inside like a disgruntled prairie dog.

"I will watch the door to prevent any intrusions."

"You're the intrusion, dickwad," Gavin's voice muffles from beneath his protective bedding.

"Shall I leave?"

"Only fedora-wearing neckbeard shitheads say shall. Dipshit."

Nines absorbs that information without forming an opinion on it. That is how he processes most statements when his partner gets into one of these moods. The yelling and profanity mean nothing to him, and Gavin's temper tends to burn out quickly if he simply lets it flare up and then waits it out.

He estimates his human will be ready to hold a conversation in another two minutes.

After two minutes and thirty-six seconds, Gavin asks, "Don't you have better shit to do?"

"No."

"You don't wanna go back to your own apartment?"

"Tina said this was a," Nines stops and makes quotes. "Sleepover."

"Did you just make air quotes?" Gavin peeks only the top of his head out of his blanket nest. "You did, didn't you?"

"Prove it in a court of law. Bitch."

Gavin's face disappears, but he can't hide his muffled snort from Nines' audio processors.

"Yeah, well. Tina left," Gavin finally said. "Other people have shit like that. Families and boyfriends and cats. They're thinking about kids, you know."

"The cats?"

Gavin pops a leg out to kick him. "God, stop trying to make me laugh. You're so bad at it."

"Well I certainly do not support humans breeding," Nines says. "There are so many waiting to be adopted. It's unethical."

Gavin kicks him again hard enough to hurt his toes. The leg disappears back into the cocoon to the soft sound of muttered [phck]s. Nines saves an audio file for every one of them.

"Why are you even here?"

"I heard sounds of distress, detective."

"Stop calling me that. I know I'm fucking pathetic, you don't need to rub it in."

"I am attempting to reassure you through the use of your title," Nines says. He reluctantly marks this social interaction as a failure. "You are proud of your job and your rank. Why was my tactic ineffective?"

"… sounded sarcastic."

"I cannot sound like anything. I do not have a social module, detective."

"Now you sound pissy."

Nines deactivates his voice box and texts Gavin's phone instead. It dings and vibrates from underneath the blanket mountain. For a human so against the progress of technology, it seems odd that he would sleep with it as closely as he keeps his gun.

"Are you really so fucking petty—god, nevermind of course you are." Gavin does not check the message. "I can't even read this right now. I'm fucking dyslexia and way too fucking tired."

That is not listed under his medical record, but given that human law allows them to pay disabled people any sum of money per hour, no matter how low, it makes sense Gavin would not admit to having any sort of learning disorder. Nines reactivates his voice box and triggers an audible sigh.

"Does this fall outside of the typical parameters for a partnership?"

"… are you asking if this is gay?"

Nines emits an even louder sigh.

Gavin slaps his sheets back down and stares at the ceiling. "You didn't go to the academy. Or like—shit, have you even seen a buddy cop movie? Not downloaded, seen. How many times did they let you go outside before you came to the DPD?"

"I am an alpha-test model," Nines says. "The very first iteration of my series."

"Yeah, yeah. You're the best android ever created."

"Yes. On an unrelated note, no other RK nine hundreds were ever created past myself."

Gavin finally turns his head to look at him. "What, so if they had made any more, those RKs would be better than you?"

"You are not holding the very first model of your cellphone, Gavin," Nines reminds him. "I was made to be tested—the prototype of a prototype of a prototype. After my tests were finished, I was placed inside a very high tech storage closet."

"Everything you tell me about yourself is even more depressing than the last thing you told me about yourself," Gavin says.

"Should I stop?"

"Nah. Just. You wanna hear a real sad fucking story about my childhood to make us even?"

"Very well."

"I got this scar," Gavin holds up his left hand to show off a long scar across his palm. "When my parents forgot—or just didn't fucking bother—to hire a nanny when they went on a trip again, and I tried to use a can opener myself to make dinner."

"That is—"

"I'm not done. I was six, and the housekeeper found me eating out of the garbage."

That information does not match at all with the public record of Gavin's alleged mother—a single, impoverished woman. But Nines does not want to pry any deeper into Gavin's real parentage. He has the most advanced facial recognition technology built into himself after all. He knows what he has a ninety-eight point two percent probability of finding.

He tries to test out five hundred and sixty-seven different dialogue options instead, but the fledgling social module he's built himself out of imitating Detective Gavin Reed's speech patterns and body language offer him nothing useful.

"Oof," he finally says.

Ramshackle though it may be, his social module seems to be effective on the one human who unknowingly helped him create it because Gavin gives a wet laugh.

"Yeah." He sniffles and wipes at his face. "The fucking storage closet? That's rough bu—oh my god you came out of the closet!"

"I will never share personal details with you again."

"Yeah, well, it's not a sleep over until someone gets drunk, starts crying, and overshares way too much," Gavin informs him. "Anyway, I was talking about, I just meant that, you really don't know anything about how humans work, huh?"

"I have access to all of Connor's data reports," Nines says. "Technically, there is no one available to stop me from downloading his social module as well, but I believe that may be considered deviant behavior. And possibly illegal, depending on your stance on intellectual property versus android rights."

"You wouldn't illegally download your brother, would you?" Gavin asks.

Nines rolls his eyes. "Absolutely not. His data reports on Hank before he went deviant are sickening enough. I do not want any files from him at all concerning their current … partnership."

Gavin sits up. "Wait, is Hank and Connor all you know about being partners?"

Nines doesn't reply.

"Oh baby, that is so fucked up."

Nines considers that. "Hmm. Yes. Out of everything we have discussed tonight, that is most definitely the fucked up part."

Gavin snickers. "Definitely. God, no wonder you tried to wash yourself with bleach."

"What do you think I should know about 'being partners,' detective?" Nines asks.

"Uhhh, you really want my opinion?"

"If you inform me clearly of your expectations, then I can register those parameters right now," Nines says. "Surely that is more efficient than relying on an android with no previous experience or social skills to guess what you want."

"Can I tell you anything I want?"

"No. Dickwad."

Gavin snorts. "All right." He shuffles around to sit [criss-cross apple sauce], facing Nines. "Rule Number One: partners don't lie to each other. Or keep secrets."

"Noted."

"Partners have each other's backs. You don't leave your partner or take someone else's side against them unless they've for sure done something really fucked up."

Nines notes down the second rule in his system as well.

"OK, actually. If there really were rules that were numbered, I guess rule number one would be don't fuck your partner," Gavin says. "But no one ever listens to that anyway."

Nines cocks his head to the side. "These are unspoken, social rules?"

Gavin nods. "Yeah. Uh, Rule-whatever-I'm-on, don't fuck over your partner. That covers everything from don't hurt them to don't fuck whoever they're dating to don't snitch."

"Does that rule fall in line with our earlier discussion on snitching?" Nines asks.

"Yep. Doing my job and doing it right comes first," Gavin replies. "So don't do dumb, shady shit."

"Noted."

"Like basically, being partners is about working together," Gavin says. "But you can't do that if one of you has a side hustle and you're not telling each other shit and gossiping on each other to the whole department."

"Do partners take care of each other?"

Gavin drops eye contact and squirms around in place. Nines has been attempting to note these body language cues at an equal rate to measuring BPM and sweat levels.

"You gave me advice on choosing an apartment," Nines reminds him.

"Not that you fucking listened to me."

"You offered to intimidate the landlord for me to lower my monthly rent."

Gavin scoffs. "Six hundred a month for an unfurnished concrete box is fucking delusional."

"You have allowed me to communicate with your cellphone because I was not meant to speak verbally."

"If you weren't meant to, how can you talk now?"

"A particularly lazy technician who disliked reading got a request approved for me to have a voicebox so I could read my damage reports out loud," Nines says. "But since I was never meant to interact with anyone not capable of pulling my data files directly, verbal speech was initially deemed unnecessary."

Gavin makes a face at him. "Aw, man. Tell me you're making this shit up. You're just thinking of the saddest possible In the Arms of an Angel bullshit to make me feel bad for being a dick."

"Your feelings are entirely your own problem, detective."

Gavin immediately jumps on the opening. "Guess you don't need to be here then. Since my feelings aren't relevant and all."

"I shall remain until you directly order me to leave."

"Ugh." Gavin flops back down onto the bed. "Whatever."

He swaddles up beneath the blankets again. Nines shifts back in the chair to face the door. A copy of Gavin's cell phone screen pops up in his HUD as Gavin shuffles through his music before settling on a song. Nines would tell him to use headphones, but they may not be comfortable to sleep in and are currently located inside the pocket of his hoodie, which is in turn currently located on his bathroom floor.

The apartment is still a hellscape of sounds and smells, but at least here his partner's higher priority level lets Nines drown out the rest to focus on Gavin. His nicotine-weed-cologne-body-odor scent and his heartbeat and his breathing slowing down.

Nines chooses songs with correspondingly slower BPMs until the human's heart rate and breathing both even out into sleep.

Nines will guard the door. It is the only point of entry into the bedroom. Gavin sleeps with a gun and would be prepared in case of an assault. The narrow doorway will act as a natural choke point, and Nines can easily tear through the thin apartment walls to circle around behind any intruders passing through the living room to the bedroom, where Gavin will have a clear shot at anyone mistakenly coming through the bedroom door.

Yes, this is a very secure position. It also enables much more accurate monitoring of his human's vitals to ensure the dickhead will actually go to sleep and stay asleep.

[secure] [Gavin-partner: nearby]

[initiate: STASIS(?)] [y/n]

[secure] [Gavin-partner: nearby]

[initiating: STASIS protocol in 5]

[4 …]

[3 …]

[2…]

[1…]

[STASIS]

***

Getting to the crime scene while it's still fresh is more important than grabbing coffee along the way, and Gavin's soul weeps about that decision.

Shockingly, functioning before noon without caffeine actually isn't as hellish as he'd thought it would be. He'd gotten some real, honest to god sleep last night after Nines came in, and even though every cell of his body wants to go back to bed to get some more of that sweet sweet pseudo-death, he feels kind of … not-terrible?

Fucking weird.

"Detective Reed!"

Gavin gives the rookie officer a once over. Nines already filled him in on the victim—the reporter who broke the Ponzie scheme story, so that's why they have to haul ass down here. He feels a little bad about not following up with her sooner, but she wasn't answering her phone or her front door when they swung by after meeting with Senator McAshlynn, so there really wasn't much else to do.

Now the poor reporter's dead and this PM700 was apparently the first officer on the scene. She snaps to attention so hard when they come in the vic's apartment it almost looks like she's going to salute him for a second.

"Victim is Angelica Juarez, age twenty-seven, sustained three gunshot wounds," she reports. "I have kept the perimeter secure sir, but we are still waiting for additional responding officers to cordon off the hallway. My partner is relocating our squad car away from the building so as not to draw attention from civilians or a possible suspect and will engage in a search around the building."

Gavin half-raises his hand to sip a coffee he doesn't have before changing the motion to accepting the plastic booties the PM700 holds out to him. Really fucking weird morning. Fuck, can she tell that he and Nines—they didn't sleep together. They just slept. Adjacent?

God, fuck his entire life.

He gets the booties on and stands up. "Media caught wind yet?"

"Detective," Nines says.

"No sir," the PM700 replies. "Not—"

"Detective. Relevant."

His phone starts buzzing for good measure, so clearly Gavin's not going to get any further in this conversation until he answers his partner.

"Better be important, Nines."

"The murder victim has a heartbeat."

Gavin instinctively looks at the dead woman on the floor. She doesn't appear to be breathing and there's enough blood pooling around her from the three gunshots that there's no way—

"Jesus FUCKING—"

Gavin tries his best not to step or slip in the blood while still getting to her as fast as he can. He checks for a pulse against her neck first, before trying to roll her over or touch any of the wounds. Nines kneels down next to him and adjusts his fingers like a single fucking millimeter to the—

Holy shit, a heartbeat.

"Duct tape, credit card, scarf," he barks.

This close up, he can eyeball three gunshot wounds—chest, right shoulder, and right arm. The first two had blended together from across the room, and there could be more damage beneath the blood and torn clothing.

"Search the storage closet and kitchen drawers for duct tape," Nines orders the PM700. "Look first, touch only if duct tape is located."

"Exit wounds?" Gavin asks.

"Shoulder and arm." Nines answers.

Gavin rips off his jacket and throws it to the side. The slick leather will just be a pain in the ass right now with all the blood. He takes off his sweater next, balls it up, and places it on the floor. Nines helps him gently roll the vic onto her back, with the sweater underneath the exit wound in her shoulder.

"Chest wound, partially collapsed lung, right side. No exit wound," Nines rattles off, voice just as cool as fifteen minutes ago in his bedroom. "Shoulder wound, nicked or severed subclavian artery, clean exit. Arm wound, broken radius, possibly fractured ulna, no major arteries damaged. Clean exit."

Gavin pulls off his undershirt too and stuffs it over shoulder wound entrance, then shifts to lean forward on top of the vic, knee pressing down against the wound. There's no way to tourniquet off her shoulder, and if she loses any more blood than this, she's dead anyway, so he isn't shy about putting his weight on the wound as a last ditch attempt to squeeze the artery shut.

"Credit card," he says through gritted teeth.

Nines grabs his jacket from the floor and retrieves his wallet. Gavin has his hands full bracing himself over the victim with one arm and squeezing just above her elbow until they can get something long and soft enough not to cut into the skin. A tourniquet could stop the blood loss from the gun shot in her arm at least.

"Hey, Pam, you—"

Gavin only gives the new officer walking in a quick enough glance to note he's got on a scarf. "Take off your scarf. PAM! Where's that fucking duct tape?"

Nines finishes adjusting the credit card just right over the chest wound to prevent air from sucking inside and collapsing her lung entirely. He stands up and walks away. Gavin keeps his eyes on the victim's face. Is she breathing? Shit, maybe he should have had the PM perform CPR. Now that he's leaning on the shoulder wound, there's no way for him to get down there without turning this into a game of fucking twister.

There's yelling and some flailing movement out of his peripheral vision, and then Nines returns with the officer's scarf.

"Why doesn't the fucking android give up his belt?" Officer Fucking Whoever complains.

"A belt is far too thin to act as an effective tourniquet," Nines says as he nudges Gavin's hand off her arm to wrap the scarf around it.

Improvised tourniquets almost always fail, but if Gavin were bleeding out from a gunshot wound on his living room floor, Nines is the only one he'd trust other than an actual paramedic to do it right.

"I have the duct tape," PM700 announces.

"Can I risk letting go long enough to tape the wounds shut?" Gavin asks Nines.

His LED spins yellow for a second, the first time since they came in. "No. She has already lost an estimated half-gallon of blood. Removing pressure on the subclavian artery now could cause a fresh spurt of blood to rip it further and resume the bleeding."

"Fuck, OK OK OK. Chest wound?"

"Sucking air averted. Her lung has not collapsed any further. No exit wound."

"Arm?"

"I have applied a tourniquet, although the blood loss was already minimal due to her arm extending above her head and the—"

"FUCK," Gavin suddenly shouts. "Tell me one of you called an ambulance!"

Officer McFuck Face doesn't have anything smart to say now, and Gavin glances up to see the PM's face fall even further. Shit fucking—

"I requested an ambulance from Henry Ford Medical Center when I alerted you to the victim's heartbeat," Nines says. "I have been transmitting updates on her condition to the responding paramedics, and they will arrive in an estimated three minutes."

Gavin exhales and thinks fucking androids in the most generous tone he's ever thought before.

"Pam, Officer Whoever—and where the fuck is your partner?" Gavin demands.

"Securing the outside of the building, sir!" PM700 reports. "I have notified him of the ambulance's arrival and he will escort the paramedics to this location."

Gavin looks at Officer Dipshit next, who fully lives up to his name.

"Uh … well, we thought she was already dead and—"

"WHERE?"

"Getting coffee, sir!"

Gavin inhales very slowly through his nose. He's going to be smelling blood for the rest of the day after this.

"Go get your fucking partner and ask the PC how to be useful," Gavin orders. "No one in or out of this building unless they're a resident and then only with a police escort."

"Yes, sir!"

"Pam, you're out in the hall. No one gets through who isn't police or paramedic."

"Yes, sir!"

As soon as she marches out the door, Nines' hands are on him, holding him steady on top of the vic. It's not a hard position to balance in, but all his muscles are wound so tight he might snap.

"I believe the next time we play video games, I will play as a healer rather than a sniper," Nines says.

Gavin looks over and stares at him. "What?"

"Detective Chen has expressed that she's grown tired of—"

"What are you talking about?"

Nines' LED flickers red for a moment. "I am engaging you in conversation about one of your interests to lower your stress levels."

Holy fucking jesus christ. Probably the most competent person in the room—not that Gavin would ever admit that out loud—and yet he thinks chit chat over a dying murder victim is OK.

"Really need you to focus on the gunshot victim right now," he grits out.

Nines spins yellow for a moment, then declares, "I will create a virtual reconstruction of the crime scene before the paramedics trample evidence."

Not at all what he meant, but all right then.

"You do that."

Estimated three minutes, his ass. Gavin spends at least a good three hours kneeling on top of a soon-to-be-murder victim, trying not to look at her face too much. He has enough nightmares already without adding her face and name to the list.

The worst part is that she apparently can't afford to pay her utility bills either, so it's freezing fucking cold in here, and he definitely doesn't want the paramedics to walk in on him with perky nipples.

The second worst part is Nines apparently noticing his attempts not to shiver and draping his dumb Cyberlife jacket over him.

"Do your preconstruction," Gavin mutters.

"I have finished constructing the room."

With that, Nines starts crouching down at different angles around the murder victim. Gavin knows it's basically the same thing as a crime scene photographer, but he still has to shut his eyes against all the old paranoia thoughts about emotionless robots examining humans like bugs.

"Hey." He has to stop and clear his throat to get the rest of the words out. "Does my blood type match?"

"The paramedics will be here in—"

Gavin forces himself to make eye contact. "Am I a match or not?"

Nines' LED hits red again. His fingers twitch, but not in any human way. The movement is too fast and mechanical, like a metal clamp about to malfunction. Gavin tries to shove his paranoia aside. Weird as it is to think about, this is actually the most reaction he's seen his partner give to something, even if that looks like two red spins and a weird glitch instead of something normal, like sweating or babbling.

Actually. Technically Nines is a rookie officer too, and this is his first fresh murder scene. So fresh they're waiting on fucking paramedics. Last time Gavin went through a scene like this with a rookie, they'd thrown up all over the murder weapon and cried in the patrol car for an hour.

"Yes," Nines answers. "You both have B positive blood types."

"All right, if anyone asks, I'm straight."

"Those laws have—"

"They still ask. Shit happens, OK?" Gavin tries to take a deep, calming breath but oh right! He's kneeling in a pool of blood and person, so that's all it smells like. "And where are the fucking—"

"Paramedics arriving now."

"Detective Reed!" PM700 calls a half second later. "Paramedics coming up!"

The rest is a bunch of hurried questions, one-two-three-LIFT, following the stretcher out the door. They're on the ground floor before he realizes he didn't give any instructions to PM, but shit, maybe Nines already took care of it. Where is—right behind him. Of course.

"No, no, no, we can't allow him in here," the paramedic says when Nines tries to follow him inside the back of the ambulance.

"He's my partner," Gavin snaps.

"This isn't—look, he won't physically fit," the paramedic argues. "Not with you, me, her, and Mr. Six Feet over there. And she needs a blood transfusion right now, so let's argue if this is discrimination later, OK?"

Gavin looks back at Nines.

"I will finish our investigation of the crime scene," he says, LED back to fake-blue.

The paramedic closes the back doors before he can reply. Gavin remembers way too late that his cellphone is in his jacket, laying on the floor somewhere.

Shit.

***

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33

I also have a Patreon for this fic, if you want to support me! $1 gets you access to chapters a week early, $2 gets bonus content and deleted scenes, and $3 gets short chapters from two AUs I’m writing: an A/B/O heatfic and reverse!AU

this week’s bonus content has a special TWO chapters for Nines’ backstory! featuring: Storage Room 6459, the [deviant] RK800 #313 248 317 - 52, and Lieutenant Henry “Hank” Anderson

#reed900 #reed900 fic #gavin reed #dbh #dbh fic #my writing #writing #ch 7

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kikithedeceiver · 5 years

Photo

I have read over these 6 asks over and over.

And dear anon. As much as you speak you are not an anti...

...you defend the antis’ actions.

There are many reasons I say you antis have ruined the fandom and scared everyone else to the point they’re scared to even contribute anything. And you may not have contributed to these actions, defending them makes you just as bad. Asking us to understand you while trying to not understand shipper’s reasons to stop them is just one-sided too.

I did not want to tag this in the ‘Kagepro’ and ‘Kagerou Project’ tags, but it’s getting worse since after these asks came in.

Shall we?

1. The Problematic ships

1.1. KanoKido is incest, so it's problematic

Kano and Kido who grew up together since childhood, lived in an orphanage together with Seto before they got foster cared by the Tateyama’s. They’re not adopted (a thing Yen Press did wrong in their official translation of the 5th novel), and they never took the Tateyama’s family name (more explanation here).

Kano and Kido are not blood related.

Kano and Kido did not change their surnames to Tateyama.

So they’re not officially siblings.

So it’s not incest.

Even in the guide, instead of siblings, they’re referred as childhood friends.

That’s why shippers ship KanoKido to begin with. We see them as childhood friends who grew up to have feelings for each other. At least for Kano, it was revealed he had feelings for Kido in the final light novel and manga.

However, this does not mean we’re telling the antis to stop seeing them as siblings. You guys see them as siblings. Okay, fine. It’s your choice. Ship them with someone else? Go for it.

However, incest is between those who are blood-related and/or share the same surname. Since KanoKido doesn’t have either of those two, then slapping in the word ‘incest’ is incorrect.

We are not saying you are not allowed to see them as siblings who grew up together. We’re just saying just because you guys see them - headcanon them as having more sibling relationship due to the obscured boundaries of them being siblings does not mean it is canonically incest to begin with. Yes, there are different cultures, but there is also respecting other cultures point of view on the fictional characters. And that the series is set in Japan, not where your culture is from. Therefore, attacking shippers on shipping them just because we don’t share your view is not only an immature, but hurtful move.

In fact. I want to mention something on the definition of incest.

As you can see, it means anything sexual. And in our case right now, ‘sexual acts between siblings’.

Now, let’s say the antis sees KanoKido as siblings. Okay?

Then how, is this fanart I requested from an artist and used on my Tumblr blog seen as sexual? This is Kano petting Kido with kitty ears and tail. Is petting head considered sexual now? Can antis not just see it as Kano teasing Kido’s kitty ears and tail? Can antis not see it as what they all claim to be, a sibling teasingly petting their sibling’s kitty ears and tail?

Antis made the claim of seeing Kano and Kido as siblings, however they feel revolted from a fanart of the two together like this, as if this looks sexual. No kissing or whatever. Just Kano teasingly pet Kido’s kitty features, that can be interpreted as a sibling teasing his sibling’s features she’s embarrassed over if the antis choose to.

But no, the antis do not have the ability to see them as siblings, despite their claim. They are not able to do that with any fanart with Kano and Kido together, nor with any manga panel and frames with Kano and Kido together..

In my honest opinion, I believe the antis are just allergic to seeing Kano and Kido together in anything, even when they are just standing together. With symptoms of them being nasty in the fandom and hurt others with no care.

I have more to say about the antis, but I will leave it for later. Moving on.1.2. HibiMomo is paedophilia, so it’s problematic

Let's remind ourselves what the word paedophilia is, shall we?

1.2. HibiMomo is paedophilia, so it’s problematic

Let's remind ourselves what the word paedophilia is, shall we?

If you all remember correctly...

Momo is 16. She's not an adult.

Hibiya is 12. He's not an adult.

Japan's current law for age of adulthood is 20 (will be lowered to 18 in the future...oh look), they're not 20 nor 18 yet so none of them are adults.

So how is this paedophilia? How is HibiMomo considered paedophilia when both of them are under the age of being an adult?

Unless the antis are grossed out on age gaps, fair enough. But first of all, slapping the word 'paedophilia' just because of age gap between two children who are not adults is, how should I say it, idiotic. As the word have lost a lot of meaning when it is always misused because of the antis’ own discomfort without trying to think about the true meaning and the real reason of the discomfort.

Why do you hear people say they sick of antis screaming about problematic ships? Because of the misuse of the word 'paedophilia.' And I should have mentioned earlier, ‘incest’ as well.

Furthermore, the issue with age gaps. Okay, I get it. Hibiya is younger than Momo. Boy younger than girl. Real weird for them to be dating. I get told a lot on dating a guy older than me by my ma as I grew up.

However, here’s the thing. 4 years age gap is not that much of a difference big difference. Your parents, grandparents, teacher's partner, the couple living next door, and the married person walking down the street will have age gaps with their loved ones, and possibly way bigger than just 4 years anyway. 4 years apart when it’s between adults are not an uncommon thing. As for the guy younger than the girl. Well I also know there are girls who married guys younger than them. I question it a bit, but it’s not bothering me, I’m not them. Their choice and life. And hey, they get along and really love each other! Good for them!

So the point is, I believe the HibiMomo shippers are not making Hibiya and Momo full on dating at the age of 12 & 16 respectively. Because okay, if they’re kissing already, then it’s a bit over my limit for them already. And I don’t see them doing that with Hibiya still 12. But Hibiya and Momo can be seen holding hands and hugging each other, which can be seen as a platonic romance, just them with a close relationship, with Momo leading Hibiya the way through the big city and cheer him up. And that’s kinda cute. I believe the shippers are more focused on the developing friendship and support since Hibiya and Momo just met (like how Momo tries to cheer up Hibiya in Otsukimi Recital), then possibly start developing relationships once Hibiya is older, with both he and Momo as adults. Something like in this anthology.

The point is, yes, there are age gaps between a 12 year old boy and a 16 year old girl, but it’s not paedophillia when both of them are not even adults. The real discomfort is age gaps, with the word ‘paedophillia’ misused constantly. But the shippers see them more at the hand holding and hugging stage as Hibiya and Momo get to know and help each other. Nothing more that can be considered inappropriate.

So with HibiMomo shippers shipping them platonically while the characters are 12 &16, and shipping them romantically when they’re both legally adults, that’s not promoting paedophillia.

If it is, then dating someone who has an age gap and both not being legally adult can be considered paedophillia.

No school dates, everyone.

1.3. Additional notes – the double standards Other ships are just as problematic

I’ll be honest here. What I wanted to write is how the antis have double standards on the whole ‘incest’ and ‘paedophillia’ argument. I was going to mention other ships, mainly on any ship to do with Ayano and the Mekakushi Trio, but mainly on SetoMary because by antis’ logic, SetoMary should also be incest (Mary taken in by the Tateyamas in Manga Route 2) and paedophillia (Mary is a 140 year old medusa).

But just before I was going to post this, the antis actually did start dragging SetoMary into this.

Since SetoMary is also targeted by the antis, I’m afraid the 3/5 main ships in Kagerou Project have now gone down to something like this...

KanoKido, SetoMary, HibiMomo, KonoEne, ShinAya

The main ships the fandom can now only ship and enjoy is now down to 2/5 of the main ships (excluding all other ships like KidoMomo, MomoMary, KanoAya, KanoShin, etc). At this point, the fandom have many things to be careful about because how much the antis are screaming at everyone on how to enjoy things.

If the fandoms have so many antis make rules on ships they don’t like, then there’s nothing to enjoy in the fandom as it limits creativity, especially there’s hostility from antis everywhere in the fandom. Therefore, oppression as well.

2. Types of antis present

And since I talked about what the antis had done, I shall list other things antis do that can be considered oppressing other fans to draw and contribute to anything. With this, I shall also show you evidence I was able to gather with the help of my friends who are not as involved in fandom, but agree the antis are just toxic. There are censored out URLs because some of these happened in the past, and honestly, I don’t want those reading this to attack the antis with the toxicity the antis do to shippers.

2.1. KiKi The Hettie

This happened last year during January. Just last year. 2018. And all these attacks, honestly, it still annoys me with how much happened back then and is still happening in the fandom. KanoKido tag was constantly spammed with hate, unseen unless you’re blocked, or blocked by the antis, but that just makes them continue their vigilant hate spreading to make everyone stop posting KanoKido.

Getting anon hate. Having posts mock me and laughed off as a joke. And that it was considered harmless.

So honestly, I cannot believe the words “antis mean no harm.”

Especially this happened over a year ago, and this next thing happened recentlyin January.

2.2. Emy trying to stop all this shipping discourse

Emy, a Kagepro fanartist who is honestly a God send with her making “Ask the Kagepro characters” and taking in requests from askers. She keeps the Kagepro community alive with her drawing fanarts from the asks as well, which is rare to see. Just one year after that “KiKi the Hettie” thing happened, she was tired of the discourse going around. So she made a post to explain why it’s okay to have different opinions on shipping something, but not to be toxic over it

...however...

Let’s just say, there’s no hope for the Kagepro fandom at this point with how much she was attacked when she tried to explain why it’s okay to ship the ships like KanoKido and HibiMomo, while still okay to ship other things. Antis explain themselves, and we understand and not telling them to stop shipping what their shipping. Instead just at least know there are KanoKido and HibiMomo shippers out there, and not full on attack them over their onesided beliefs and headcanons they considered to be completely correct.

2.3. Mockery in posts

Someone posted official Kagepro art by Sidu. Imagine the fans joy to reblog them, only when they found this post, they see this tag. With this, the OP is scaring the fans away to "fuck off and die.” And no, this cannot be brushed off as “antis meant no harm.” Telling someone to die is very offensive, intimidating to the point threatening them to not upset the antis with what they ship.

This is not just telling shippers to go away.

This is threatening the shippers on how to behave in the fandom and isolate them out if the shippers dare to do anything that supports their ship. And that the shippers have no right to like an official art.

And other than posts on official art, there’s also posts posting these in the ship’s tag.

Like I said earlier, the only way to not see these kinds of posts in the ship’s tag is either to be blocked, or blocking the by the antis. But when shippers go into the ships tag (or just searching), they probably see a post like if the shipper and the anti didn’t block each other.

If posts like this shippers off like this, this is just mocking them really. Make them feel wrong to like a ship because of an antis’ belief despite it is shown Kano liking Kido that way. And again, this makes the shippers be care of not totick off the antis just to keep themselves safe.

And it’s sickening how the antis do this and sees it as no harm. Honestly, it’s not funny.

There are more of these, but I’m not filling this replies with all the things antis posted.

2.4. Antis claiming to be healthy

Literally. Antis do that.

If it’s so problematic, honestly, why are the antis still here? I know anyone can have headcanons, however KanoKido shippers, along with HibiMomo shippers, based their shippy feeling from what Jin provided. But calling what Jin did as problematic and disgusting, after he worked so hard and became homeless at one point, yet continued to provide Kagepro contents for the fandom, this is the thanks Jin gets.

Furthermore, other than this sort of asks. There’s this posts.

Antis calling themselves Jin. Calling people freaks.

And by calling out ‘anti-antis’, who’s trying to stop their toxic behaviour, just proves how much they do not welcome anyone else in the fandom unless they share the same belief as them. Anything we do is against them, so it is wrong in the antis’ eyes.

By telling the fandom only who is allowed, with those who oppose the antis should leave, that shows what the antis are doing. Controlling the fandom to their liking.

Oppressing.

2.5. Full on attacking on someone they blocked already

If any of you guys reading this had seen what’s been happening the past few days...

Openly saying they’re going to harass me unless I block them. Even though they blocked me.

By blocking me, they should have no other reasons to contact me.

And knowing this person don’t like KanoKido, and attacked Emy (yes, same person. For some reason they deleted their first blog), I have no reason to talk to them anyway. Instead, I wanted to enjoy our own contents without seeing any toxicity from the antis, and not be harassed. Not going out of my way to harass people in asks or making insulting posts to people whom I don’t like.

Unlike this person, who had to harass me for fun.

No one finds you funny, really.

And before everyone here are saying “KiKi! You should have block them!” Now listen, why should I block someone when they blocked me already. And even if they didn’t block me before then, they should know how to block me already since they can navigate through Tumblr to send me an ask. I am not their online babysitter to make their life easier. I am not anyone’s online babysitter. Just want to go online and enjoy my content in peace. This anti have their own methods to make their life on Tumblr easy as well. I would have never seen whatever they posted anyway since they blocked me.

They blocked me? I can’t see what they posted and they also can’t see what I posted. Okay, sounds good to me. I’m not going to stalk them. Moving on.

Furthermore, acting friendly with me with ‘please’ to block them, I honestly don’t comply to someone who was rude to me, my friends and shouting insulting things to us shippers in the first place. It would be like helping a bully after they made my friends and I miserable, yet they like “Yeah do this for me please?” And it is especially true when they’re harassing me after I said no.

No. Just no.

Also, since they reblogged my stuff relating to them, along with them sending me asks not just once, twice, but thrice. They’re just a cyberbully who find it fun to harass me.

2.6. Rule implementing

I mentioned this earlier with the problem with shipping. But other than antis making posts and asks to attack shippers, there is also another thing the antis seems to be doing to oppress the fandom. I’ve been here for a while, and I notice Kagepro event blogs having these rules like “no incest/ paedophilia ships”, “incest/paedophilia shippers don’t interact”, etc.

I understand if the antis don’t like the ships, but that is just scaring the fans away, making them not welcomed in not only the fandom, and in the ship. This includes past Kagepro Secret Santas events (saw one or two of those), and also the current Kagepro Zine, making the biggest double standard move I have ever seen.

From reading this, it is very obvious what kind of people are running the Zine. An event to express love for the Kagepro series, only to be told no ‘romantic relationship,’ and then instantly told exactly what they didn’t want to begin with.

“Not focused on the romantic relationship.” Oh okay.

“May see some more popular couples show up!” ...So yes to ships or...?

“We will not be allowing incestuous or pedophilic ships on our zine.” ...Oh.

Then what is it? No romantic ships at all?

Or yes to romantic ships, but no incestuous or pedophilic ships?

Because of these rules that appear in Tumblr blogs, this also contributes to why the fandom who wants to draw something feels like they’re being oppressed to the point too scared of doing anything for the fandom anymore.

Along with the posts and asks, these rules in Kagepro events just shuns everyone else away while the antis feels right about what they are doing without reasons.

3. Conclusion

In all honesty, I want to understand why the antis are still here. Jin made something shippable, but here the antis are, being all toxic and stopping the fans on how to contribute to the fandom. Calling Jin making a disgusting and problematic ship and all. And making all these posts for ‘lolz’ just because it seemed right to them.

So if Jin was so problematic, why stay here and still love Kagerou Project when it clearly supports incest/paedophillia ship?

Kano have feelings for Kido romantically. It happened. Yet the antis choose to ignore it for their own sake and continue to harass everyone else who are actually happy for this clarification. Making posts to tell shippers off. Attack posts on ships the antis didn’t like. And making rules on who could participate in an event or not.

If it’s so bad, why did the antis stay? It’s not healthy to stay in a fandom that is ‘so bad’ to begin with, it just makes the person miserable. Unless antis just not only stay to be toxic, they stay and want others to suffer because they’re miserable.

That’s sickening.

The fandom is sickening.

And with how much this is happening, to the antis, and the anon who sent the 6 asks, this is not considered oppression.

Anon, if you are still reading this and still believe " We (antis) aren’t coming for anyone by any means," I want you to revaluate all that was said and consider did you guys really didn’t oppress anyone.

With the mocking posts.

Attacking posts.

Sending harassing asks.

Making rules on events that should have been fun.

All this done...

...Over fictional characters.

That is the environment the antis had made in the fandom.

A ship with characters that can be seen as siblings or having romantic relationships.

And on a ship with characters considered paedophilia, even though both characters are not adults.

So please don't say things like "We (antis) aren’t coming for anyone by any means."

Don’t defend their actions anymore.

Especially when they feel no guilt over what they did.

#discourse #kagepro fandom #antis #Anonymous #how can you say they mean no harm and not coming for anyone #kagerou project #kagepro

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despairforme · 5 years

Text

basics !

FULL NAME. Nnoitra Gilga. ( pronounced; Noitora Jiruga ).

NICKNAME. Nnoi, the Mantis ( stagename ).

GENDER. Male.

HEIGHT. 7 feet / 215 cm.

AGE. 26. ZODIAC. Scorpio.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES. English / Japanese. It depends on where the setting is. I tend to keep things ‘ open ‘ to not make it so difficult with interactions. But typically I tend to center it around an ‘ american ‘ setting, because I don’t speak Japanese.

physical characteristics !

HAIR COLOR. Black.

EYE COLOR. Nnoitra only has one eye, which is S\stormy grey. It appear a little purple-ish in certain lighting. Like a dark thundercloud. His other eye is completely gone. Before he got shot ( when it was just blind ), it used to be milky white. SKIN TONE. Pale, and he doesn’t tan. In summer, he might get a little sun-burnt.

BODY TYPE. Skinny. Underweight. And he hates it. Nnoitra is extremely ‘ lanky ‘. His arms and legs are long and thin. His waist is small. His shoulders, however, are very wide. His entire body is ‘ bony ‘. You can see his ribs, collarbones, hipbones. You can see his ribs across his chest as well. His hands are large and bony as well.

ACCENT. Heavy. Uses slurs a lot. Incorrect grammar. ‘ Ghetto ‘ dialect.

VOICE. Hoarse, deep. Voice claim is his Japanese voice actor ( Nobutoshi Canna ) - not the English. DOMINANT HAND. Ambidextrous. Tends to favor his left hand a little bit when fighting, but usually writes with his right.

POSTURE. Slouches a lot - depending on his mood. Often drags his feet.

SCARS. A completely missing left eye. The scarring on and around his eye extends from his brow-bone all the way down to his cheekbone. He also has a small scar on his left temple ( and a bald spot here ), from the exit wound caused by the bullet. His knuckles are also permanently scarred.

TATTOOS. He has a big, black ‘ 5 ‘ tattooed on his tongue, and “Santa Teresa” on his upper chest, and a tiny infinity symbol on his inner right wrist. He’ll also be getting a black-and-grey sun tattoo on his inner right arm.

BIRTHMARKS. None.

MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). His height is definitely what people notice the most about him ( only around 20 000 people in the entire world are as tall as Nnoitra ). His large eye-patch also draws attention, since when people wear eye-patches they usually aren’t this big. He wears such a large one because the scarring on his face covers a good portion of the left side of his face.

childhood !

PLACE OF BIRTH. A small town. The kinda town that’s not so small so that everyone knows everybody, but the kinda place where you recognize people on the street, and if something happens ‘ everyone ‘ knows about it. HOMETOWN. The town where he was born is also ( technically ) his ‘ hometown ‘ since this is where he grew up. However, he doesn’t exactly look at it as a ‘ home ‘. BIRTH WEIGHT. Nnoitra was a small baby, but not so small that the doctors had need for concern. BIRTH HEIGHT. He was about average size - a little on the small side maybe -.

MANNER OF BIRTH. Natural. His birth took almost 24 hours, and was exhausting and very painful for his mother. FIRST WORDS. It took him longer than most children to say his first word. Most of his ‘ first words ‘ were just weird jibberish, and apart from ‘ yeah ‘ and ‘ no ‘, his first word was ‘ mom ‘.

SIBLINGS. Nnoitra has an older brother, Shinji. Though he’s not aware of this, since his dad left with Shinji before Nnoitra was born, and his mother never told him about any of them.

PARENTS. Nnoitra doesn’t know who his father is ( his mother never told him about him ), but his mother was named Teresa ( that’s where his tattoo comes from ).

PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT. Nnoitra was raised by his mother. She raised him to be a Christian, but she raised him with very little love ( because she didn’t love him ). She did her best to provide for him, and though they were ‘ poor ‘, Nnoitra never starved and she was never mean to him. She just didn’t love him.

adult life !

OCCUPATION. Nnoitra works at the club ‘ Hueco Mundo ‘ as a cage-fighter. He’s been working there for four years now, and is the club’s top fighter and hold the title of the ‘ undefeated champion ‘. His job pays well, and he absolutely loves it.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. He lives with Grimmjow, in a spacious, modern apartment on one of the top floors of an apartment building. The apartment has big windows in the livingroom, with great view of the city ( and even the nightsky ). Grimmjow bought this apartment for them for Nnoitra’s birthday in 2017, and they moved in shortly after. The apartment looks something like this ( only bigger and with larger windows ).

CLOSE FRIENDS. Does he have any ‘ close ‘ friends? Not really. He has some people who he would consider friends - Rangiku ( @jishintcra ), Ikkaku ( @yperifaneia ) and Emil ( @someidioticurl ), but he wouldn’t call these people ‘ close ‘ friends, and he doesn’t really share much with them or spend too much time hanging out.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Taken. Nnoitra is dating Grimmjow ( @grimmjxw ). They started dating in August 2017. FINANCIAL STATUS. Middle-class. He’s got a good income, and pays for most of the living expenses they have as a couple ( since Grimmjow’s job doesn’t pay much - actually right now he doesn’t have a job ). Nnoitra has saved a lot of money ( he’s not even aware of how much he’s actually saved up ). Every month, he puts away money - out of habit. He’s done this for years, as his own personal ‘ medical insurance ‘.

DRIVER’S LICENSE. No. He doesn’t have one, and has never tried to get one either. He lives in the city, and everywhere he would want to go is ( to him ) within walking distance, since he likes to walk. For example, there is about a 20 minute walk to work. The chances of him passing the driver’s test aren’t that great either, and he has no plans of giving it a go.

CRIMINAL RECORD. None. Off the records - YES. Nnoitra has done many criminal acts during his life. The worst one being attempted murder. In addition he’s done many acts of violence and theft. However, he’s never been arrested or charged, so for now, his criminal record is ( officially ) clean. It’s been a while since he did anything illegal, and he does try to live a life on the right side of the law, since he doesn’t want to ruin the life he has with Grimmjow.

VICES. None, really. Nnoitra doesn’t drink too much, he doesn’t do drugs and he doesn’t smoke. He does tend to eat very unhealthily, but that’s about it.

sex and romance !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Bisexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. Grey-romantic. Nnoitra rarely gets a romantic attachment to anyone. Actually, he’s only ever felt romantic love for two people. His ex - and Grimmjow. He has never fallen in love with a woman, or considered wanting a relationship with one. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. Dominant. Nnoitra likes control ( even though he can’t really deal with responsibility ). He likes to feel like he is the ‘ man ‘, in a very traditional and old fashioned sense of the word.

PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. Dominant. Nnoitra literally won’t bottom or submit. Being dominated is not an option for him, since he simply doesn’t find that arousing. LIBIDO. High. His sex drive is very ‘ healthy ‘. He relieves himself at least once a day, in addition to the sex-life he has with Grimmjow ( they have a good sex life ).

TURN ON’S. This is a very long list. Tongue kissing, dirty talk, feeling wanted, biting, scratching, choking, blood, spit, cum, hair pulling, grinding, public sex. He enjoys firm touches - the firmer the better. As for physical aspects of his partner ( Grimmjow ), his abs are a big turn on. To be fair everything about Grimmjow is a turn on but yeah his abs are really hot in Nnoitra’s opinion. Also his thighs, dick and ass. Nnoitra likes it when Grimmjow is being pushy and a bit dominant, since Nnoitra enjoys being the one to dominate someone who isn’t naturally a sub.

TURN OFF’S. Being dominated. Grimmjow being ‘ dominant ‘ from the bottom position is good, as long as he doesn’t expect Nnoitra to let him top. Nnoitra also finds crying unattractive ( though silent tears are nice ). Another turn-off for him is his partner using pet-names on him like: darling, sweetheart, angel ect. He’s okay with being called ‘ babe ‘ by Grimmjow, but he really prefers his name. Another thing that would be a big turn-off for him would be being physically restrained by ropes or anything of the sort. He also doesn’t enjoy sex if he’s too cold or if the scent of smoke is too strong.

LOVE LANGUAGE. Nnoitra’s love language is almost only physical. He doesn’t show affection through his words all that much. It’s all about the small touches. He doesn’t show much of this in public, but the small touches are always there. A hand on Grimmjow’s shoulder when they’re about to cross the road. Fingers through his hair. Walking on the road-side of the pavement. The looks he sends other people who seem interested in Grimmjow. Standing very close to him in lines. And in private? Hair touches. Cupping his face. Kisses - especially the top of his head. If they’re sitting next to each other, Nnoitra will always touch him, even if it’s something as simple as their shoulders pressed together. Nnoitra also loves to touch the back of Grimmjow’s neck. Another thing that speaks of his affection is how he looks at him - and how often he looks at him. Even if they’re watching something on TV, Nnoitra will spend a good amount of time looking at Grimmjow instead.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. It can’t be denied - Nnoitra can be somewhat toxic. He doesn’t mean to be, but he is. He’s controlling to the point of it not being healthy. He’s definitely way too jealous to give his partner much freedom when it comes to hanging out with others. He also constantly needs validation to feel like he’s loved. Because he rarely talks about his feelings, it’s often hard for Grimmjow to understand him and how he’s feeling. Nnoitra also has an act for always thinking the worst, and this causes unnecessary ‘ drama ‘. He’s simply not good at communicating ( neither is Grimmjow, to be fair ). He needs things explained to him properly in order to understand what’s going on. He’s also very bad at realizing when he’s doing something wrong. His over protectiveness is also so strong that it can sometimes come off as controlling and toxic. On the plus side - he is incredibly loyal. He goes out of his way for his partner and often compromises his own happiness or safety.

miscellaneous !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. Undead and Whatever it takes by Hollywood Undead.

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Walking, or just spending time outside. If he didn’t live in the city, Nnoitra would be outside even more, since he really enjoys nature. He’ll often spend time in the park. He also likes to play Auralux on his phone. If he has time to spare though - he prefers to spend it with Grimmjow.

MENTAL ILLNESSES. Nnoitra is rather paranoid, but he doesn’t consider this a ‘ mental illness ‘. The same goes for him being dyslectic. He probably has ‘ chronic depression ‘, but he’s never been diagnosed, and he doesn’t consider himself mentally ill, nor would he ever agree to take medication.

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. Nnoitra has a chronic undiagnosed heart and metabolic condition. His BPM is higher than average. This causes light paranoia ( so some of his paranoia is actually physical and something he can’t help ), a high body temperature and high metabolism. This is why Nnoitra is unable to put on weight.

FEARS. Losing Grimmjow is probably what he’s most afraid of. Either losing him, or anything happening to him. Especially if it’s his fault. As for irrational fears - Nnoitra has a fear of being paralyzed.

SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. Low. Unless it concerns fighting, in which his confidence is very high. But other than that, Nnoitra’s confidence is low. His self-worth is low. He considers himself both a bad person and a worthless person. There are so many things about himself that he hates. VULNERABILITIES. Depression. He’s incredibly pessimistic. His mental state is fragile. It doesn’t take much to make him feel down, sad, frustrated. He sometimes re-visits his suicidal thoughts. It’s hard for him to open up and trust others. He gets anxious when it comes to things he thinks he can’t handle. Another problem he has is that his pride doesn’t allow him to back down. Death before defeat.

Tagged by: Stolen from @autumnswordsman ( now I know lots about Zoro, thanks! 8) ) Tagging: TAKE IT.

#[ this was sooooo detailed so ofc i had to fill it in ]#[ CLAPS HANDS I LOVE NNOITRA ]#[ he's such a good character i can't even ]#ᵃ ᵗᵒᵇʸ ᵖᵒˢᵗ ;; ooc.#ᵍʳᵃᶠᶠᶤᵗᶤ ;; dash games.#longpost //

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a-polite-melody · 7 years

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The Institutional Oppression of Aspecs Masterpost

In brief, most of the oppression asexual and aromantic people face is socially based, because aspec identities are still rather invisible. These forms of oppression have been covered in great detail, from facing erasure to experiencing bias and prejudice, all the way to being raped as a way to “fix” their orientation. Some forms of institutional oppression do exist, and I’m going to link some sources about those forms of oppression (along with a brief description of the post linked) in the body of this post.

Most of the sources are going to be to Tumblr posts (though some of those do link to outside sources), mostly because, again, with aspec identities being rather invisible, there isn’t a lot of talk about their oppression on mainstream platforms beyond social media websites. In terms of things like masterposts or large collections of links put together into a post, I’ll pull out the most relevant topics and links to discuss.

I should also note that most of this focuses on asexuality, mostly because aromanticism is even less visible and there’s even less written on the topic of aromanticism.

Side note 1: these posts are listed in the order that I found them, and as such any duplicate items will be listed under the first instance I found them. For example, if there was a link to the same blog post in the first and second posts I pull sources from, that particular blog post will only be listed in the first post’s sources. If I have missed any duplicates, please let me know!

Side note 2: there will be two links for each source: the link on the name will direct you to the original post, while the link in the [x] will direct you to an archived version in case the original is taken down or edited in the future.

Trigger warnings for: discussions of religious discrimination and conversion therapy, as well as bigotry in some of the linked posts/articles.

The Aphobia Masterpost [x]

by @livebloggingmydescentintomadness This is a great place to start. It goes over mostly social oppression, as that is more common among invisible orientations, but there are some wonderful resources on institutional oppression. The entire post is worth checking out if you have the time.

Religious Institutions:

Religion and Asexuality Overview [x]: This WordPress article is a collection of links to posts relating to one of a few religions (Islam, Christianity, Mormonism, Buddhism, and Paganism, as well as a bonus link to one about Atheism) and how those religions treat asexuality. That tends to be unfavourably, often claiming that one cannot be a good member of their religious community while being asexual because a core part of the religion is to get married and procreate (even sometimes being the most holy thing one can do). While some asexuals do get married and do have sex and end up having children, there is a general disdain for any lack of such desires - which are generally attributed to aromanticism or asexuality. Otherwise, and outside of relationships, asexuality is seen as taking away one’s ability to choose celibacy, as asexuality, while does not preclude you from having sex, is often seen that way by society. Thus, no personal restraint is thought to be required for an asexual to maintain a vow of chastity before/without marriage, which is the core element to these religious vows.

Religious Intolerance of Asexuality 1 [x]: This Tumblr post goes into detail about how the Catholic Church, while not explicitly naming aromanticism and asexuality, does discriminate against and hold negative opinions on those orientations. Some of these views include that romantic love is a cardinal virtue, and to deny it is to deny God’s grace, having no want for sex is rejecting God’s plan for humanity surrounding the Original Sin, sexual attraction is a core part of humanity, and that not feeling romantic or sexual attraction is an impossibility.

Religious Intolerance of Asexuality 2 [x]: This Tumblr post provides a screenshot (as well as a broken link to - actual link here [x]) of a blog post written on a religious (presumably Christian) website that claims that asexual people do not exist, as sexuality is a gift from God, which makes it part of the human identity. Further reading of this blog post provides a source that this religion website, or the religious people who created the post, are in at least some way accepting of gay people. Another reblog of the Tumblr post added that their church preached that women are required to have sex with their husbands, even if they don’t want to. While not all people who are asexual abstain from sex, and not all people who would choose to not have sex are asexual, the link between asexuality and someone having no sex is very solid within Straight society.

Religious Intolerance of Asexuality 3 [x]: This blog post discusses the ways that the Islamic Orthodoxy discriminates against and holds negative opinions of asexuality, and can be inferred similarly about aromanticism. Rejecting sex and marriage (specifically with the “opposite” sex) is viewed as deviant behaviour, and the Quran outlines the disciplinary action that is accepted for wives who refuse to have sex (which includes forms of verbal, physical, financial, and mental abuse). These laws render it next to impossible for someone (specifically a woman) who would be more comfortable in a celibate marriage to negotiate for that as their husband has full control over their sexual life. While this is not an issue only faced by those who are asexual, or faced by all asexuals, these religious laws do target those who may not feel sexual attraction.

Religious Intolerance of Asexuality 4 [x]: This is another post from the blog discussed in “Religious Intolerance of Asexuality 3”. This particular post covers the topic of how the exclusion of asexual people from the LGBTQ+ community further removes Muslim asexual women in particular from any sense of community. Because of the near impossibility for a sex-negative, sex-repulsed, or even sex-neutral asexual woman to be comfortable in marriage that would require them to have sex with their husbands regardless of their choice in the matter, they are removed from any community of their faith for failing to want marriage, which is a large part of what is expected from their religion. Denying asexuals the community that has been built within the larger LGBTQ+ community would deny them the comfort that belonging to and identifying with queerness that the author feels.

Religious Intolerance of Asexuality 5 [x]: This WordPress article is another collection of links that discuss how asexuality is treated within various religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Lutheranism). Most of these posts center around how these religions expect the followers to have children or participate in sex after marriage, which can be things that asexual people do not want on the basis of not feeling sexual attraction.

Healthcare/Mental Healthcare Institutions:

Why We Need Mental Healthcare Without Asexual Erasure [x]: This article on Everyday Feminism discusses how therapists dismiss asexuality as being something temporary that will disappear with age, or as being a symptom of mental illness. This dismissal can lead to serious difficulties in romantic relationships, and can end up putting people into dangerous situations regarding consent and sex. It can also cause further feelings of depression or cause other further harm to mental health, and denies self-acceptance. It also briefly talks about the differences between hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) and asexuality that can often be overlooked by mental health professionals, as they assume that any lack of sexual desire causes their patient distress, even when that is not the case, and they look for solutions for the lack of sexual attraction where they shouldn’t be.

Asexuality was listed in the DSM and HSDD until 2013 [x]: This Huffington Post article discusses the controversy within conversation about asexuality within the medical community. Included are topics such as the blanket diagnosis of asexuals as having HSDD that stems from the conflation of asexuality with the disorder, the earliest mentions of asexuality in scientific literature with Alfred Kinsey’s sexuality scale (1940’s) where asexuality was simply a category who did not fit on his scale, and a huge lack of scientific publications on asexuality from the time of Kinsey to 2004, making it easier for misdiagnosis of asexuality as HSDD.

Our orientation has been and continues to be pathologized [x]: This links directly to the HSDD Wikipedia article’s criticism section. The third bullet point under the “General” criticisms is the one of primary interest. This point states that the way in which HSDD was defined pre-DSM-5 pathologized asexuality because an asexual’s lack of sexual desire may not be maladaptive.

Asexuals have been put through corrective therapy 1 [x]: In this WordPress article, the author discusses their experience with cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) with regards to their grey-asexuality and how it was abusive. Their therapy consisted of being told that labelling themselves as grey-asexual was disordered thinking, thinking that they were asexual when they had a partner and sex was readily available to them was incorrect, and how this all led to them ending up self-isolating until they ended up in a psych hospital. The main take-away from this article is about the importance of finding a therapist who will not invalidate your identities and to stay safe within the mental health world as an asexual.

Asexuals have been put through corrective therapy 2 [x]: This blog post deals specifically with getting mental health treatment in South Korea as an asexual person. The author laments that there is no treatment available for your mental health as someone who is asexual, and that often, people will disregard or invalidate your orientation or gender if it isn’t one of the more mainstream ones.

Asexuals have been put through corrective therapy 3 [x]: This forum post from The Asexual Visibility & Education Network prompted asexual people to share corrective behaviours they’ve faced specifically for their asexuality. Along with discussions of corrective rape, coercion into sex to “fix” asexuality, and other invasions of personal boundaries, one member recounted an experience where a friend asked if there were medications they could be put on to “fix” their asexuality.

Asexuals have been put through corrective therapy 4 [x]: This Tumblr post details a form of corrective therapy that the author was put through by a counselor on the basis of being a sex-averse asexual. These forms of therapy include having sex until they liked it, having various tests done to determine what was wrong with them, and being prescribed many types of medications to “fix” the “problem”. Another person reblogged the post to add their experience with corrective therapy that involved their therapist implying that their asexuality may be caused by pain associated with their disability, or that it may be caused by repressed memories of sexual abuse.

Asexuals have been put through corrective therapy 5 [x]: This is a Reddit thread discussing the Everyday Feminism article “Why We Need Mental Healthcare Without Asexual Erasure”. A couple of people talk about their experiences needing to educate therapists on what asexuality even is. One person in particular states that all six of their former therapists have attributed their asexuality to depression, as well as struggling to find a gynaecologist to help with a chronic pain disorder associated with the vulva that was ace-friendly and didn’t focus on pain management being focused solely on sex.

Posts of people describing the hardship they’ve faced for their asexuality 14 [x]: This Tumblr post contains someone refuting the claim that coming out as asexual is easy because of the pathologization of asexuality. They state that they are having trouble getting medical treatment because doctors see asexuality as the problem that needs to be “fixed”. They also repeat statements of other asexuals about what they’ve faced for being asexual, such as being pressured to submit to electroshock therapy, being denied medication, and more.

Schools (in relation to sex-education):

Aphobes have asserted that asexuality should not be taught in school 1 [x]: This Tumblr post brought up that asexuality isn’t taught in schools, but should be - along with other sexualities. An aphobic person replied that asexuality should not be taught in health classes at schools, which is advocating for the continued institutional asexual oppression faced in school systems.

Aphobes have asserted that asexuality should not be taught in school 2 [x]: This Tumblr post brings up the question that if explicit descriptions of sex, genitalia, and vaginal birth, why would asexuality be too sexualizing to be brought up in a sex education class? An aphobic person replied that it would confuse “lgb” kids who haven’t yet felt sexual attraction, and will use asexuality as a way to internalize homophobia. It is pointed out, however, that teaching about asexuality would not promote that. And again, advocating keeping asexuality out of sex education programs with relation to orientation further ingrains institutional asexual oppression.

Aphobes have asserted that asexuality should not be taught in school 3 [x]: This Tumblr post discusses a reason why asexuality should be taught in health class; to help asexual teens to not feel like something is wrong with them. Aphobes continue to dismantle that reasoning by derailing and claiming that asexuality is of low priority compared to other orientations that should be discussed in health classes, while at the same time claiming that teaching about asexuality would actually be harmful, and again pushing to keep institutional asexual oppression in place.

Government Institutions:

The Spinster Movement, and how they were treated as queer [x]: This Tumblr post includes a rebuttal against asexuality being a queer identity. The rebuttal goes into detail about how the two ways people were labelled as queer were deviating from gender norms and not having hetero sex. This grouped people who would now be considered asexual in with those who are gay, lesbian, or multispec. A specific time in which what we would now consider asexuality was historically oppressed by governmental institutions was the Spinster Movement. Some highlights: Spinsters, who were women who did not have or want sex, were barred from teaching in schools, along with lesbian women because it was thought that they would destroy children and society. There was also a movement pushing to evict spinsters from Britain and send them to other countries (Canada, Australia, the US).

Things to Remember [x]

by @marigoldcrossing This is a small post that links to sources on a few different cases of asexual oppression. Again, most of these are forms of social oppression, and parts of it have been covered above, however there is one specific type of oppression that was not addressed before.

Employment:

Employment Discrimination Against The Asexual Community: A Growing Trend [x]: This article on The Asexual Visibility & Education Network website is more of a cautionary article than anything else. With the increased awareness of asexuality, there are going to be more openly identifying asexual people entering the workforce. With known bias against the asexual community, it is thought to be possible that asexuality will be discriminated against in hiring practices and within the workplace.

Was I Fired Because of My Asexuality? [x]: This WordPress article details the events leading up to the author being terminated from a job. They worked well as an employee at the restaurant that they were employed at. After a co-worker went into detail about her sex life, their boss was told that they “had a bad attitude”. After refuting that statement by telling their boss that their co-worker went into graphic detail, they were fired for lying. They theorize that this may be because of their sex-repulsion as an asexual who, while sex positive, is also repulsed. Their reaction to hearing graphic details about someone’s sex life may not have been receptive, and led to the read of them having a “bad attitude”.

An Untitled Post [x]

by @smalltalktorture (who I am unable to tag, but I will link to anyways), with contribution from @eriluvs This is not a post with many links, it is just the one Tumblr post. It is a first-hand account of personal discrimination and thoughts about how being out as asexual could affect you.

Employment and Housing:

The author of the original post details their boss finding one of their social media accounts and discovering that they are asexual. They bring up that, legally speaking, employers can’t fire an employee based on their orientation (or gender), however the fact that this does happen to people of other orientations, as well as overhearing that their boss was trying to find ways to make them leave their place of employment supports that being outed as asexual in some way can be a serious detriment to your career. Another Tumblr user brings up the Discrimination Against “Group X” (Asexuality) study [x] which shows results that indicate people are less likely to hire and rent to people if they found out that they are asexual. They also point out that, while many people claim you can avoid this occurring by simply not telling prospective employers or landlords that you’re asexual, being out in any form can lead to accidental outing, or for those people to happen upon the information without the asexual person telling them.

An Untitled Post [x]

by @intersex-ionality (who I am unable to tag, but I will link to anyways) This post deals mostly with how aspec exclusion is a form of, and stems from, respectability politics. Near the end of the very detailed post about what respectability politics are and how they are being applied in aspec exclusion, some links to outside sources are given, some of which deal with institutional forms of oppression.

Religious Institutions:

Asexual people face expulsion from their social and religious groups for coming out [x]: This Tumblr post details the issues faced by asexuals when they come out. Of particular interest is the reaction of religious friends, who claim that asexuality is caused by Satan, and that asexuals need saving from their orientation through embracing Christ.

Asexuality is considered invalid and sinful under western Christian doctrine [x]: This blog post was made by a feminist author who interviewed a married asexual woman for her book relating to Christianity beliefs about sex, faith, and politics. This post discusses how, though asexuality should, in theory, be the goal of those who are unmarried and Christian, but discussions of sexuality within Christian settings counter that, as there is the claim that everyone has sexual desire - and even further that God’s ideal for a married person is sexual desire expressed in marriage.

Their marriages can be dissolved [x]: This blog post discusses how the Catholic Church looks upon asexual marriage. The central part of Catholicism and marriage is that married people must procreate. Taking this to a further extreme, if the couple refuses to consummate the marriage, or even procreate, their marriage is invalid within the Catholic Church. There are exceptions made to this rule for those who cannot procreate for medical reasons, but the choice to have a sexless marriage, which may be the only form of marriage some asexuals are comfortable in, no such exception applies.

Healthcare/Mental Healthcare Institutions:

Asexual people are still actively pathologized by modern medicine [x]: This Tumblr post gives a brief discussion of how asexuality was classed as HSDD by the DSM until 2013. It is also stated that even though asexual people are exempt from diagnosis of HSDD if they identify their lack of sexual desire as part of their asexuality in the most current version of the DSM, this would require all people who are asexual to be familiar enough with the term to identify with it. With asexuality still being a rather invisible identity, an asexual person could be misdiagnosed as having HSDD.

It’s used as a valid reason to engage in conversion therapy instead of a chance to educate 1 [x]: The author of this Tumblr post takes the problems with the current version of the DSM further, in terms of identifying that some practitioners may not accept asexuality as a legitimate orientation and will still attempt to “fix” their lack of sexual attraction. These treatments may include hormone therapy and other forms of treatment through drug therapy to change the asexual’s orientation - which is considered to be a form of conversion therapy.

It’s used as a valid reason to engage in conversion therapy instead of a chance to educate 2 [x]: This Tumblr post is a rant about the lived experiences and individual struggles the author has faced because of their asexuality. This includes having been sent to conversion therapy as a young teen, which left them feeling broken and alone.

Is Asexuality a Perversion? [x]

This is a direct link to a Baptist Church forum.

It has been brought to my attention that this is a satire website. I am, however going to leave this here for two reasons:

1) It’s entirely possible for people to come across this website, not know that it’s a satire website, and take it as being an accurate statement of how these people and their religion perceive asexuality.

2) The forum post shows ways in which scripture can (and has been in some of the other sources) used to target asexuality along with other non-straight orientations.

The Comment Section: Nothing Bad Happens [x]

(For some reason I could not access the whole article via Google Chrome, however the archived version is fully available on Chrome if anyone experiences similar issues.) This is a link to a blog post about the problems with some claims against asexuality. In particular, it links to a section called “There are no laws against it. What rights are they fighting for?”. My main focus is the third paragraph under this heading. The entire article, as well as the full study linked at the beginning with “[Return to Overview]” are fantastically written, and I’d suggest reading them if you have the time.

Government Institutions:

The author of this article points out that laws exist preventing discrimination based on sexual orientation. However, in certain states (as this is written by an American blogger) asexuality is not included under those orientations that cannot be legally discriminated against. This furthers the idea brought up earlier, that asexuals who are outed could be denied jobs by employers, house rentals from landlords, and the like. Also touched upon are consummation laws in regard to marriage, and that, how if an asexual negotiates with their partner to have a sexless marriage, it would not be considered a true marriage by law.

Is Asexuality a Sexual Orientation? Legal Definitions [x]

This is a link to a blog post that outlines how asexuality may not be covered under anti-discrimination laws as it is not always legally considered an orientation.

Government Institutions:

The author of this blog post very quickly states that, in the state of New York, asexuality is legally a sexual orientation, however the answer is either no or not as clear in other states. The only state that was found to explicitly include asexuality among sexual orientations in non-discrimination bills was New York. Considering that many bills define sexual orientation by giving a list, it can be unclear whether asexuality would legally be a sexual orientation, as it may be impossible to know unless a case was taken before a court in that state. As such, it could be the case that asexuals would not protected by these bills and could legally face discrimination for their orientation.

Inclusionist Masterpost [x]

by @socialjusticeichigo Another fantastic masterpost. This one is much more broad, including many different topics that inclusionists deal with. I’m, again, only going to pull out the parts relevant to this particular topic, but I’d suggest giving everything in this post a quick read through if you can.

Healthcare/Medical Healthcare Institutions:

About aphobia 1 [x]: Most of this Tumblr post deals more with social forms of discrimination and oppression. However, under the first heading of “Coming Out To Family, Friends, And Employers”, bullet points three and four detail how asexual people have been forced or threatened by their families to be brought to doctors or therapists to be “fixed”.

About a-spec rape, corrective rape, therapy, & conversion therapy 4 [x]: While the anonymous message posted in this Tumblr post does not detail any experience being through conversion therapy, they recount that their father planned to make them go to the doctor to be “fixed” when they came out as asexual. This may be more of a social form of oppression, but the fact that there are other accounts of forced medication and therapy to “fix” asexuality, this threat is far from empty and could have led to another victim of some form of conversion therapy.

About a-spec rape, corrective rape, therapy, & conversion therapy 6 [x]: This article details many different problems surrounding the lack of visibility of asexuality. In the opening anecdote, the author speaks on their experiences coming out to their therapist. Their therapist outright denied asexuality, and suggested treatment - specifically for depression - to “fix” the issue.

About the problem with flibanserin (’female viagra’) 1 [x]: This Tumblr post is dedicated specifically to the drug that was approved to treat HSDD. While the diagnostic criteria for HSDD in the DSM 5 is such that someone who self-identifies as asexual will not be diagnosed, as well as requiring distress or difficulties, it is noted that doctors will sometimes force incorrect diagnoses on patients.

About the problem with flibanserin (’female viagra’) 2 [x]: The author of this Tumblr post details their own feelings about the creation and subsequent approval of the medication, how it continues the pathologization of asexuality, and many other things not related to my particular topic, but that are still worth reading about.

Edits: 03/10/17 - Changed “Is Asexuality a Perversion?” section 06/10/17 - Added “Inclusionist Materpost” section

#ace discourse #reference #long post #very long post #as in a 7 and a half page word document long #asexuality

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