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twistmusings · 2 months

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Character Analysis of the Twisted Wonderland Dorm Rooms - Scarabia

Dorm Room Character Analysis Series

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim's room is notably organized, to start with. Whereas with Floyd, I theorized his room was largely his doing, due to the sporadic organization of it, I believe that Kalim's room being as organized as it is is very likely through Jamil's intervention, given what we know about their relationship.

Kalim's room is designed for company - he doesn't have a desk set up, but he does have a pillow and an ottoman set out for having people over. He also has a tea set at hand and ready for guests. Considering Kalim was raised by a wealthy family, you can see touches of it throughout the room - particularly here. Kalim likes to be a host for other people, and he likes to make them feel welcome. That being said, with how much Jamil is told to take care of Kalim, it's not hard to imagine that he also gets roped into taking care of guests - something I will go into more details about when I actually talk about Jamil's room.

Kalim has a frankly ridiculous amount of pillows, and none of them match. (I counted 15 of them.) I suspect that in large part, this is to show the eccentric nature of Kalim's personality. Having many, vibrant patters from a design perspective lends to a bright, slightly spacey personality, which fits in well with Kalim and how he presents himself.

Kalim also has quite a few books. The books in Twisted Wonderland are generally easy to identify by their shape and size - and it's important to note that this seems to be mostly a personal collection. What this tells us is that while Kalim seems to be a bit turned off of studying, he does show an interest in reading if it's something that interests him. Again, I would say most of these are probably organized by Jamil, so it's hard to say if there are any he would reach for regularly.

There are two possibilities for this box right here. Either this is a first aid kit. We know that one of Jamil's major duties is to ensure that Kalim isn't harmed under his watch, so it's possible that Jamil stuck this here. (Not to get too far into video game lore, but I can see why there wasn't a cross placed here - because of geneva conventions it gets sticky to use the symbol of a cross on an item in a video game because it is not permitted for use in a context where medical services are not being offered in a real life context. Still, this leaves some questions as to what this is.)

Or, this could be a piece of mail for Kalim, likely sent by Kalim's family. We don't get to see much of the Al-Asim family when it came to the Firelit Sky event, but this would seem to imply that Kalim's parents are doting enough to send him a care package with a little heart drawn on it.

Kalim's secret Mickey is just above his bed on the wall below the windows.

Jamil Viper

So, like the other members of the dorms who aren't dorm leaders, Jamil shares his room with someone else, as seen by the second rug and desk to the right-hand side of the frame.

The first thing I want to point out, Jamil's room shows the hallmarks of being a room that is intended for a single person, as opposed to Kalim's. In fact, this room is a very solitary, closed-in room, with very little decoration and very little personalization. Jamil, likely, spends very little time here between tending to Kalim and doing his regular school activities. I wouldn't go so far as to describe it as prison-like, but it certainly feels stifling. That's worth examining, as not decorating a room is actually telling from a psychological standpoint - people who don't decorate tend to be more avoidant personalities than people who do. While I don't want to get too far into spoilers so far as the Japanese release goes (iykyk, otherwise you'll find out soon), but this actually tracks with Jamil - he tends to deal with his problems by not dealing with them until he can't avoid them anymore.

Jamil actually ties and hangs his shoes! I think this is a neat detail. Speaking to real life inspirations, it's very common courtesy in Muslim households to remove your shoes on entering a home, and to my knowledge it's a common practice throughout the Middle East. So, more than likely, Jamil and Kalim both likely remove their shoes at the door and walk through the dorm using slippers or barefoot. It's a thoughtful touch to include a little detail like this for Twist characters as well.

While Jamil is noted to like music and dance in canon, I think it's interesting that in his dorm room, he is one of the few people who has a boombox and headphones. In fact, it's one of the few personal touches we do see in his room. This is on his desk, so likely, he listens to music while he studies. I also believe there's a bit of symbolism here - as Jamil is likely using this as a method of shutting himself off from the people around him, as well. Generally speaking, Jamil's room paints him to be the solitary sort, and I think it's worth considering that Jamil is likely an introvert.

Jamil also has one of these boxes in his room. As I said before, this could imply one of two things:

If this is a first aid kit, and Kalim is in Jamil's room frequently enough that Jamil felt the need to put one in his room as well. If so, Jamil has not gone out of his way to make his room any more comfortable to Kalim to be in.

Alternatively, if this is a package, that means that Jamil's family or Kalim's Family also make a point to send this mail to Jamil. Since we can only guess as to the contents of the box, it's hard to say which it is. There are a few possibilities that arise from this:

1. This packaging is the standard packaging for post coming from the Scalding Sands. This is a little unlikely because of the heart on the box.

2. This is a package that whoever sent it has gone through the effort of drawing a heart on it. This indicates it's likely coming from family.

3. Because the boxes are the same and appear to have the same writing on both, it's likely if it is a package that Kalim and Jamil's families packed these care packages together and send them to both of them.

Again, because it's a bit nondescript and hard to say for certain whether this is medical supplies or if it's a package, I would say this is up to interpretation at this point! Unless we get confirmation one way or the other, let your headcanons run wild.

Jamil's hidden Mickey is in his scrying orb on his desk.

#not writing;;#twisted wonderland #twst #jamil viper #kalim al asim #mod azul #character analysis;;

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lexisgrump · 11 months

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✨Reunion.✨ (Phillip Graves x Reader)

A continuation of this post.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

They were being watched. You saw that black van several times a day driving through your street. Sometimes it was parked on the side, and while the windows were tinted you could tell someone was inside. Part of it was thanks to the training Phil had given you when- well. When your loving fiancé had still been around to care for you. Telling you he would have people come after him, that would try and hurt her to get to him. Jokes were on whoever was trying to hurt them now, since Phillip hadn’t been around for two years. Losing his life in Mexico, in a fight that he thought he could win, but ultimately didn’t. Leaving behind his fiancée and his son. Not that Phillip knew he was a father, you had learned about your pregnancy after his ashes had already been delivered to your house. The same house you had bought together on your fifth anniversary to live together and grow a family. You still sat with the urn in the evenings, telling Phil all about your day and your little one. The pregnancy hadn’t been easy, but Nathaniel had been nothing if not supportive. Nathaniel Graves- your late fiancé’s older brother. You supposed he felt guilty for his brothers’ demise, and tried caring for you the best he could.

With the birth of Phillip Junior, named after his late Father, your world took on a new priority. Some nights had been tough, and they still were. The little munchkin was old enough to toddle around now, and babble a few words to show what his needs were. Another hard pill to swallow for you was the fact that little Phillip was a carbon copy of his papa. Dirty blonde hair and the same blue eyes you had fallen in love with. And the same attitude. It made you miss the grown man even more, with the way your toddler demanded appy slices. Phillip hadn’t left a will, not that you were made aware of anyway, but his brother had left you a sizeable amount of inheritance money. It enabled you to quit your job and care for your son properly, the way the little boy needed. Phil had always wanted you to be a housewife. Provide for you, knowing he made the numbers easily for a comfortable life. You’d always denied his wish, wanted to earn your own money. One child later, and widowed while not even married and you granted Phillip his wish.

Phil’s second in command had come around to collect all files and evidence of Shadow Company 6 months after the incident. Theodore Wiscon was a scary man. 6 feet 5 inches in height, broad shoulders and a strong muscled torso. He had kind eyes, and the way they had softened even further seeing your baby bump, you couldn’t help but let Uncle Theo be a part of your son’s life. Now- Theo only came around sporadically. What, with having to run Shadow Company now in absence of your fiancé, but he made sure to spoil your little man rotten whenever he did. He’d also been kind enough to pay you a monthly allowance, assuring you it was what Phil would’ve wanted. The first thing you did when you noticed the van was text Theo about it. He’d asked you to do so, whenever you thought you were in danger. Two men of Shadow Company showed up at your door only hours later, looking at Phillip playing on living room floor. Telling them about what you had seen, the taller one of the two assured you they were going to make sure nothing would happen. He’d introduced himself as Vance. The other one stayed woefully quiet, before introducing himself as Matthews. They informed you they were just going to have a look around, to make sure there wasn’t an immediate threat.

The two men stayed around for a while, sleeping in the guest room that you had turned Phil’s old office into. It had hurt you to change the room, open up a window to air out the lingering scent of Phil’s cologne. You fed Vance and Matthews for the better part of two weeks, the two made sure to pay special attention to the little boy sitting on a big boy chair already, brabbling about all kinds of things, with some normal words mixed in between. Theo wanted to see them after those two weeks, and Vance and Matthews made sure to escort you. Matthews sat behind the wheel, while you were squished in the backseat with Phillip and Vance, the latter having a gloved hand on his weapon and watching the neighborhood as they left. The security system was live when they left, both Theo and Nathaniel had made sure to get you and Phillip the best one there was. One that send an alert out to Shadow Company so they could come and help you. They were faster than the cops most days anyway. Phillip was ecstatic to visit Uncle Theo at work, climbing all over the mountain of a man and wanting to sit in all of the armored vehicles they walked past. According to Theodore, the neighborhood was clean and there was no one suspicious around.

Vance and Matthews drove you and Phillip home a day later, the two of you having stayed the night on base of Shadow Company, if simply for the little boy to enjoy Uncle Theo’s presence. They dropped you off at the end of the street as to not rouse more suspicion from your neighbors. Phillip needed to stretch his little legs either way. Feeling eyes on you, you turned partially to the direction, only to see Miss Steward on her porch, her wrinkly hands on her banister. Are you alright, love? She called across the street, no doubt referring to the masked and armored men having stayed with you for the past two weeks. “Yes, Miss Steward. Just some friends coming for a visit. Thank you for asking.” With that you herded your son through the front door, locking the door and the place down at the same time. Security was still live, no alerts on your phone. Phillip asked for some juice before nap time, something you granted the little boy happily. Putting him down for a nap, it gave you some much needed alone time. A nap as well, and some time to scroll through your phone, looking at the various pictures of Phil. Jesus Christ, you missed your fiancé more than anything.

There was no sight of the van again. Theo installed you some security cameras as well, and both him and Nathaniel asked for access of them. Agreeing easily, knowing they wanted to keep you and Phillip safe, you were busy making snacks in the kitchen when you heard your son call out to you. Mama, just that single word had you hauling ass out the front door, watching your son having backed up onto the porch. Across the street, on a shadowy bench, sat a stranger. Dressed from head to toe in black, a black Hoodie pulled over his head, and what appeared to be a balaclava on his face. Immediately you lifted Phillip into your arms and carried him inside giving Theo a call. This time it took Vance and Matthews only thirty minutes to show up at your door. The stranger was long gone then. “I’m scared they’re a kiddy fiddler,” The term had been inherited from Phil, who had used that word instead of the official term for it. Again, Vance and Matthews combed through the neighborhood, all nice and sneaky. They didn’t find anything, and kind of looked at you like you had lost your mind. Thank the heavens for the security cameras then, because a quick scroll through the footage showed them said stranger on the bench watching Phillip.

Said footage was what got Theo to her doorstep within the hour. He ordered the two mercenaries to go have another look, and to look in every fucking nook and cranny to make sure that bastard wasn’t going to hurt his honorable nephew. You fed three grown fucking soldiers that night, glad someone enjoyed your cooking as much as they did. Phillip was a spoiled little baby, though he also enjoyed mamas cooking whenever you cooked for them. Theodore left with Vance and Matthews the following morning but left you a 9 Millimeter pistol to make sure you could defend yourself in case of an emergency. Unnecessary, seeing as Phil had left you a whole locked closet worth of weapons, but you weren’t about to disclose that information. Besides, you knew next to nothing about firearms and weren’t sure if they needed regular cleaning or oiling or whatever. Locking the gun into the lockable kitchen cabinet, just out of reach of Phillip but perfectly convenient should an intruder make his way into the place. It left you thinking about possibly renovating the house.

Currently, you stepped into a small hallway, where the coats and shoes were placed. Walking from said hallway, you stepped into the living room with a large couch you and Phil had picked together. And spent some quality time together on. Possibly making Phillip on one lonely evening, but you had never been one to deny your late fiancé a spontaneous quickie. From the living room was an open arch that led to the kitchen, with the lockable cabinet right at the door. The kitchen bled into an eating area, that was kept as clean as you could with a two-year-old menace living in the same house as you. Returning to the living room, another door led into what had been Phil’s office now turned guest room, which had led into the mudroom and the garage. A stairwell was right next to the door, which took your upstairs to the master bedroom and its own ensuite. Right across the hall was the old guest room turned Phillip’s bedroom. The urn had long moved into your bedroom, standing on Phil’s bedside table so it felt like he was still sleeping with you.

You were eating cookies at Miss Steward’s table with Phillip when the security alert flashed on your phone. The very same alert was going to Theo’s computer, knowing shadow company was going to show up soon enough to check it out. Taking a deep breath, you waited until you saw the armored vehicles pull up, to check out the premises. You could see the whole ordeal from Miss Steward’s kitchen window. The old lady was a saint, asking you if you needed a place to sleep. And if you were going to be safe. “I will be, Miss Steward. Thanks again. Just a lot of things happening at once.” It was true. A lot of things had happened recently that kept you up at night. If only Phil was here. He’d keep you and the munchkin safe. Waiting for the all clear, you were safe to return home only 15 minutes later. They hadn’t found anything, having combed through the entire home twice. Theo showed up at your door the same evening wanting to make sure you were alright. Right there, in the dim light of your dining table, you realized how lonely you were. Theodore also seemed to notice, because soon he had leaned over and pressed his lips to yours.

It felt good, at first, the first human contact in a little over two years now. Realization settled as one of Theo’s hands found their way up your sweater, and you grabbed it while looking at him pleadingly. You couldn’t do it. Your heart and body still belonged to the man that sat cremated in an urn on his bedside table. Theodore apologized and left only a few minutes later. Thankfully this wasn’t going to become an issue. Except then it did, because later at night your phone flashed with yet another security alert, a silent one, as to not alert Phillip sleeping in the other room. Slipping out of bed, and pulling on your robe, you moved downstairs as quietly as possible. The light was on in Phil’s old office. No doubt someone was trying to get information on him. Carefully unlocking the cabin in the kitchen, you grabbed the gun from its hiding place, quickly sliding back the safety. Thankfully both Phil and later Theo had taught you how to use one efficiently. Calling out to the intruder that you were armed, and were not afraid to use the gun, you received no reply. Of fucking course not. Slipping in through the ajar door, you found an empty bedroom. Checking under the bed, and the closet found it empty. The mudroom and the garage were empty as well.

Just as you were about to give Theo an update, before the Shadows showed up again, you turned to run into a chest. Before you could scream, two hands grabbed the gun from yours, surprisingly gentle, disarmed you and then pressing a warm hand over your mouth. This was it, you thought. You were going to get raped, and killed, in the safety of your own home. Tears spilled over your cheeks and the intruders hand still pressed to your mouth. Soothing shushing suddenly sounded said stranger. Opening your own eyes you were met with a wave of nostalgia. Blue grey stared back at you, albeit covered by a black hoodie. The very same one you had seen not a few days prior. Understanding flashed in those eyes, and the hand was lowered from your mouth, cupping your neck in a loving gesture. “Phil?” You croaked out. Another soft shush left the strangers covered face. You were going crazy. Absolutely fucking bonkers, considering you saw an intruder as your dead fiancé. Just how far gone were you? You weren’t even aware you needed meds, and suddenly they sounded good if you were hallucinating. In hindsight, maybe you should’ve fucked Theodore to get some sense into you. Your fiancé Phillip Graves was dead. Burned in a tank, in Mexico, after General Shepherd blackmailed him into starting a war he couldn’t have possibly won.

Standing in your guest room, in a nightie with a silk robe wrapped around your body, you watched the intruder pull the hoodie down, and the balaclava off. Maybe you were going crazy, but staring your long dead fiancé in the face, left you flabbergasted. SLAP. The sound echoed around in the guest room, and you watched Phil’s cheek color red in the shape of your handprint. One of his hands lifted up to touched the tender area, and he stared at you just as shocked. “I mourned you, asshole.” Voice trembling with anger, and sadness, tears began trickling back down over your cheeks. “I cried for you, and you were alive the whole time? How fucking dare you?” This time your voice cracked towards the end, as Phil pulled you in tightly, wrapping his arms around you while shushing you again. Pushing away, and shoving the man you had thought dead away as well, you stared at him. “Leave, now. Theo is well on his way since I didn’t respond. I will tell him to shoot you.” A car pulled into your driveway, the headlights illuminating the space. “Go,” you urged, shoving Phil once more. The hood pulled back over his face, he escaped through the backdoor, possibly how he left the last time. You were sure it had been him.

#phillip graves x reader #philipgraves #phillip graves #graves x reader

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dustedmagazine · 7 months

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Listening Post: Kim Gordon

Kim Gordon has long been one of rock’s female icons, one of a tiny handful of women to get much play in Michael Azzerad’s underground-defining Our Band Could Be Your Life and a mainstay in the noise-rock monolith Sonic Youth. It’s hard to imagine that quintessential dude rock band without Gordon in front, dwarfed by her bass or spitting tranced out, pissed off verses over the storm of feedback.

Yet Gordon’s trajectory has been, if anything, even more fascinating since Sonic Youth’s demise in 2011. A visual artist first — she studied art at the Otis College of Art and Design before joining the band — she continues to paint and sculpt and create. She’s had solo art shows at established galleries in London and New York, most recently at the 303 Gallery in New York City. A veteran of indie films including Gus van Zant’s Last Days and Todd Haynes I’m Not There, she has also continued to act sporadically, appearing in the HBO series Girls and on an episode of Portlandia. Her memoir, Girl in a Band, came out in 2015.

But Gordon has remained surprisingly entrenched in indie music over the last decade. Many critics, including a few at Dusted, consider her Body Head, collaboration with Bill Nace the best of the post-Sonic Youth musical projects. The ensemble has now produced two EPs and three full-lengths. Gordon has also released two solo albums, which push her iconic voice into noisier, more hip hop influenced directions. We’re centering this listening post around The Collective, Gordon’s second and more recent solo effort, which comes out on Matador on March 8th, but we’ll likely also be talking about her other projects as well.

Intro by Jennifer Kelly

Jennifer Kelly: I missed No Home in 2019, so I was somewhat surprised by The Collective’s abrasive, beat-driven sound though I guess you could make connections to Sonic Youth’s Cypress Hill collaboration?

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The more I listen to it, though, the more it makes sense to me. I’ve always liked the way Gordon plays with gender stereotypes, and “I’m a Man” certainly follows that trajectory. What are you guys hearing in The Collective?

Jonathan Shaw: I have only listened through the entire record once, but I am also struck by its intensities. Sort of silly to be surprised by that, given so many of the places she has taken us in the past: noisy, dangerous, dark. But there's an undercurrent of violence to these sounds that couples onto the more confrontational invocations and dramatizations of sex. It's a strong set of gestures. I like the record quite a bit.

Bill Meyer: I'm one of those who hold Body/Head to be the best effort of the post-Sonic Youth projects, but I'll also say that it's very much a band that creates a context for Gordon to do something great, not a solo effort. I was not so taken with No Home, which I played halfway through once upon its release and did not return to until we agreed to have this discussion. I've played both albums through once now, and my first impression is that No Home feels scattered in a classic post-band-breakup project fashion — “let's do a bit of this and that and see what sticks.” The Collective feels much more cohesive sonically, in a purposeful, “I'm going to do THIS” kind of way.

Jonathan Shaw: RE Jennifer's comment about “I'm a Man”: Agreed. The sonics are very noise-adjacent, reminding me of what the Body has been up to lately, or deeper underground acts like 8 Hour Animal or Kontravoid's less dancy stuff. Those acts skew masculine (though the Body has taken pains recently to problematize the semiotics of those photos of them with lots of guns and big dogs...). Gordon's voice and lyrics make things so much more explicit without ever tipping over into the didactic. And somehow her energy is in tune with the abrasive textures of the music, but still activates an ironic distance from it. In the next song, “Trophies,” I love it when she asks, “Will you go bowling with me?” The sexed-up antics that follow are simultaneously compelling and sort of funny. Rarely has bowling felt so eroticized.

Jennifer Kelly: I got interested in the beats and did a YouTube dive on some of the other music that Justin Raisen has been involved with. He's in an interesting place, working for hip hop artists (Lil Yachty, Drake), pop stars (Charli XCX) and punk or at least punk adjacent artists (Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Viagra Boys), but nothing I've found is as raw and walloping as these cuts.

“The Candy House” is apparently inspired by Jennifer Egan's The Candy House, which is about a technology that enables people to share memories... Gordon is pretty interested in phones and communications tech and how that's changing art and human interaction.

Andrew Forell: My immediate reaction to the beats was oh, The Bug and JK Flesh, in particular the MachineEPs by the former and Sewer Bait by the latter. Unsurprisingly, as Jonathan says, she sounds right at home within that kind of dirty noise but is never subsumed by it

Jennifer Kelly: I don't have a deep reference pool in electronics, but it reminded me of Shackleton and some of the first wave dub steppers. Also, a certain kind of late 1990s/early aughts underground hip hop like Cannibal Ox and Dalek.

Bryon Hayes: Yeah, I hear some Dalek in there, too. Also, the first Death Grips mixtape, Ex-Military.

It's funny, I saw the track title “I'm a Man,” and my mind immediately went to Bo Diddley for some reason, I should have known that Kim would flip the script, and do it in such a humorous way. I love how she sends up both the macho country-lovin’ bros and the sensitive metrosexual guys. It's brilliant!

This has me thinking about “Kool Thing”, and how Chuck D acts as the ‘hype man’ to Kim Gordon in that song. I'm pretty sure that was unusual for hip hop at the time. Kim's got a long history of messing with gender stereotypes.

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Bill Meyer: Gordon did a couple videos for this record, and she starred her daughter Coco in both of them. The one for “I'm A Man” teases out elements of gender fluidity, how that might be expressed through clothing, and different kinds of watching. I found the video for “Bye Bye” more interesting. All the merchandise that's listed in the video turns out to be a survival kit, one that I imagine that Gordon would know that she has to have to get by. The protagonist of the video doesn't know that, and their unspoken moment in a car before Coco runs again was poignant in a way that I don't associate with her work. And of messing with hip hop!

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Tim Clarke: “Bye Bye” feels like a companion to The Fall’s “Dr Buck’s Letter.”

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Bill Meyer: From The Unutterable? I'll have to a-b them.

Tim Clarke: That’s the one.

Jonathan Shaw: All of these comments make me think of the record’s title, and the repeated line in “The Candy House”: “I want to join the collective.” Which one? The phone on the record’s cover nods toward our various digital collectives — spaces for communication and expression, and spaces for commerce, all of which seem to be harder and harder to tell apart. A candy house, indeed. Why is it pink? Does she have a feminine collective in mind? A feminine collective unconscious? The various voices and lyric modes on the record suggest that's a possibility. For certain women, and for certain men working hard to understand women, Gordon has been a key member of that collective for decades.

Jennifer Kelly: The title is also the title of a painting from her last show in New York.

The holes are cell phone sized.

You can read about the show here, but here's a representative quote: “The iPhone promises freedom, and control over communication,” she says. “It’s an outlet of self-expression, and an escape and a distraction from the bigger picture of what’s going on in the world. It’s also useful for making paintings.”

Gordon is a woman, and a woman over 70 at that — by any measure an underrepresented perspective in popular culture. However, I’d caution against reading The Collective solely as a feminist statement. “I'm a Man,” for instance, is told from the perspective of an incel male, an act of storytelling and empathy not propaganda. My sense is that Gordon is pretty sick of being asked, “What's it like to be a girl in a band?” (per “Sacred Trickster”) and would like, maybe, to be considered as an artist.

It's partly a generational thing. I'm a little younger than she is, but we both grew up in the patriarchy and mostly encountered gender as an external restriction.

As an aside, one of my proudest moments was when Lucas Jensen interviewed me about what it was like to be a freelance music writer, anonymously, and Robert Christgau wrote an elaborate critique of the piece that absolutely assumed I was a guy. If you're not on a date or getting married or booking reproductive care, whose business is it what gender you are?

There, that's a can of worms, isn't it?

Jonathan Shaw: Feminine isn't feminist. I haven't listened nearly closely enough to the record to hazard an opinion about that. More important, it seems to me the masculine must be in the feminine unconsciousness, and the other way around, too. Precisely because femininity has been used as a political weapon, it needs imagining in artistic spaces. Guess I also think those terms more discursively than otherwise: there are male authors who have demonstrated enormous facility with representing femininity. James, Joyce, Kleist, and so on. Gordon has always spoken and sung in ways that transcend a second-wave sort of feminine essence. “Shaking Hell,” “PCH,” the way she sings “I Wanna Be Your Dog.”

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Jennifer Kelly: Sure, she has always been shape-shifter artistically.

The lyrics are super interesting, but almost obliterated by noise. I’m seeing a connection to our hyperconnected digital society where everything is said but it’s hard to listen and focus.

Bill Meyer: Concrete guy that I am, I’ve found myself wishing I had a lyric sheet even though her voice is typically the loudest instrument in the mix.

Andrew Forell: Yes, that sense of being subsumed in the white noise of (dis)information and opinion feels like the utopian ideal of democratizing access has become a cause and conduit of alienation in which the notion of authentic voices has been rendered moot. It feels integral to the album as a metaphor

Christian Carey: How much of the blurring of vocals (good lyrics — mind you) might involve Kim’s personal biography, I wonder? From her memoirs, we know how much she wished for a deflection of a number of things, most having to do with Thurston and the disbandment of SY.

Thurston was interviewed recently and said that he felt SY would regroup and be able to be professional about things. He remarked that it better be soon: SY at eighty wouldn’t be a good look!

Andrew Forell: And therein lies something essential about why that could never happen

Ian Mathers: I know I’m far in the minority here (and elsewhere) because I’ve just never found Sonic Youth that compelling, despite several attempts over the years to give them another chance. And for specifically finding Thurston Moore to be an annoying vocal presence (long before I knew anything about his personal life, for what it's worth). So, I’m in no hurry to see them reunite, although I do think it would be both funny and good if everyone except Moore got back together.

Having not kept up with Gordon much post-SY beyond reading and enjoying her book, I wasn’t sure what to expect from this record. After a couple of listens, I’m almost surprised how much I like it. Even though I’m lukewarm on SY’s music, she’s always been a commanding vocal presence and lyricist and that hasn’t changed here (I can echo all the praise for “I’m a Man,” and also “I was supposed to save you/but you got a job” is so bathetically funny) and I like the noisier, thornier backing she has here. I also think the parts where the record gets a bit more sparse (“Shelf Warmer”) or diffuse (“Psychic Orgasm”) still work. I've enjoyed seeing all the comparisons here, none of which I thought of myself and all of which makes sense to me. But the record that popped into my head as I listened was Dead Rider’s Chills on Glass. Similar beat focus, “thick”/distorted/noisy/smeared production, declamatory vocals. I like that record a lot, so it's not too surprising I'm digging this one.

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Jennifer Kelly: I loved Sonic Youth but have zero appetite for the kind of nostalgia trip, just the hits reunion tour that getting back together would entail.

Jonathan Shaw: Yeah, no thanks to that.

RE Christian's comment: Not sure I see deflection so much as the impossibility of integration. We are all many, many selves, always have been. Digital communications interfaces and social media have just lifted it to another level of experience. Gordon sez, “I don't miss my mind.” Not so much a question of missing it in the emotional/longing sense, more so acknowledging that phrases like “my mind” have always been meaningless. Now we partition experience and identity into all of these different places, and we sign those pieces of ourselves over, to Zuck and the algorithms. We know it. We do it anyways, because it's the candy house, full of sweets and pleasures that aren't so good for us, but are really hard to resist. “Come on, sweets, take my hand...”

Bill Meyer: I would not mind hearing all of those SY songs I like again, can’t lie, although I don’t think that I’d spend Love Earth Tour prices to hear them. But given the water that has passed under the bridge personally, and the length of time since anyone in the band has collaborated creatively (as opposed to managing the ongoing business of Sonic Youth, which seems to be going pretty well), a SY reunion could only be a professionally presented piece of entertainment made by people who have agreed to put aside their personal differences and pause their artistic advancement in order to make some coin. There may be good reasons to prioritize finances. Maybe Thurston and/or Kim wants to make sure that they don’t show up on Coco’s front door, demanding to move their record or art collection into her basement, in their dotage. And Lee’s a man in his late 60s with progeny who are of an age to likely have substantial student loan debt. But The Community is just the kind of thing they’d have to pause. It feels like the work of someone who is still curious, questioning, commenting. It's not just trying to do the right commercial thing.

Justin Cober-Lake: I’m finding this one to be a sort of statement album. I’d stop short of calling it a concept album, but there seems to be a thematic center. I think a key element of the album is the way that it looks for... if not signal and noise, at least a sense of order and comprehensibility in a chaotic world. Gordon isn’t even passing judgment on the world — phones are bad, phones are good, phones make art, etc. But there’s a sense that our world is increasingly brutal, and we hear that not just in the guitars, but in the beats, and the production. “BYE BYE” really introduces the concept. Gordon’s leaving (and we can imagine this is autobiographical), but she’s organizing everything she needs for a new life. “Cigarettes for Keller” is a heartbreaking line, but she moves on, everything that makes up a life neatly ordered next to each other, iBook and medications in the same line. It reminds me of a Hemingway character locking into the moment to find some semblance of control in the chaos.

Getting back to gender, there’s a funny line at the end: one of the last things she packs is a vibrator. I'm not sure if we're to read this as a joke, a comment on the necessity of sexuality in a life full of transitory moments, as a foreshadowing of the concepts we’ve discussed, or something else. The next item (if it’s something different) is a teaser, which could be a hair care product or something sexual (playing off — or with — the vibrator). Everything's called into question: the seriousness of the track, the gender/sexuality ideas, what really matters in life. Modern gadgets, life-sustaining medicines, and sex toys all get equal rank. That tension really adds force to the song.

Coming out of “BYE BYE,” it's easy to see a disordered world that sounds extremely noisy, but still has elements we can comprehend within the noise. I don’t want to read the album reductively and I don't think it's all about this idea, but it's something that, early on in my listening, I find to be a compelling aspect of it.

youtube

#dusted magazine #listeningpost #kim gordon #the collective #jennifer kelly #jonathan shaw #bill meyer #andrew forell #bryon hayes #tim clarke #christian carey #ian mathers #justin cober-lake

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nonhumanresources · 9 months

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A List Of Books/Stories About Transformation

You ever seen those titles of extremely specific essays? If this was one of those I'd call it "A List Of Books That Contain In Whole Or In Part Some Amount Of Transformation, Or The Changing Of Oneself To Another That Has In Some Manner Been Fundamentally Altered From The Self You Used To Be." That was the original title but I didn't want to be mean.

I was rambling far too long about post TF on one of warmer-hotcakes's posts and they mentioned not being able to find stories with a positive relationship to transformation (as well as transformations that are permanent) so I wanted to put a few down in a list!

Granted, these are incredibly inconsistent in pretty much every way other than being SFF but hey, we take what we can get here. Plus they weren't wrong it is VERY hard to find these kinds of stories, half of the list at this point is self published novels on Amazon written by people I've met by chance in TF circles, to give you an idea. So, to pad it out I will add more tangentially related TF stories.

If anyone happens to have more stories feel free to comment them and I'll add them on! I will also add to the list sporadically if I feel like it.

Anyway, without further ado:

Wolven by Di Toft is about a kid finding a werewolf out in the woods. It's been years since I read it but it's got a fun dichotomy between a villain and a protagonist both suffering from partial werewolfication and the ways they deal with it.

Thousand Tales by Kris Schnee is a self published series of books set in the near future where an AI runs a video game that allows people to be "uploaded" into it. There's a lot of books that don't need to be read in any specific order focusing on different characters and is generally a more lighthearted approach to the topic than most, and also it has furries in it. There are books about people who upload immediately, people who do eventually, and people who never do. Not quite the same as adjusting to changes IRL but this is my list and I get to shill whatever I want. Also, it's some of the highest quality writing/editing I have seen in a self-published novel (especially TF novel).

How To Be A Hero: (And Part Time Dragon) by S. Blakeway is a book about a hero who gets defeated and turned into a wyvern by the Dark Lord. Her eternal torment is interrupted, though, by said Dark Lord sending her out on a quest, during which she has to navigate turning back into a wyvern every few days. It's fun and silly and has lots of TF and the author is a very nice and cool person. Go buy this one and the sequel and help me bother her into finishing the trilogy please.

Perspective Flip also by Kris Schnee and Shifting Tails by Paul Lotor are a pair of short story collections. These are more of a soft recommend; both include cases of protags adapting to transformations, and generally involve positive stories, but not all of them are great. Perspective Flip is generally good but Shifting Tails especially has stories that lean very far into the horny side of things as well as topics I was very much not into, but some of them were admittedly very enjoyable. Being horny isn't bad, of course; it's moreso that there is less "story" and more "hey wouldn't this TF be hot." To be fair, sometimes they are, but sometimes they stray far away from my interests, so take that how you will.

Wereworld by Curtis Jobling is something I read as a kid but I'm gonna be honest I remember almost nothing about it. However it is about therianthropes of all types and I like that so it's going on here. They even have sharks!

The Dragon and the George by Gordon R. Dickson. Full disclosure, I have not finished reading this one, and I do not believe it has permanent TF, but it does feature a dude who astral projects into a dragon and is generally a fine book.

The Dangers Of Wearable Technology by Serathin Sabertooth (gods I hope that isn't a pen name, that would be so cool). This is one that I don't really recommend? Which is odd, you might say, for a list of recommendations. Correct! I just have a complex relationship with it, which I will include in a post here so that I don't flood this list with unnecessary words.

That's all I can think of at the moment, but like I said, feel free to send suggestions my way and I'd be happy to read em/add em to the list! Obviously it's pretty short right now and I'd love to bulk it up as much as possible for all us COOL NERDS

#writing wyrms #dawdling dragons #transformation #book recommendations #book list #my stuff

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hotwaterandmilk · 7 months

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Hey quite curious why the X manga was discontinued. It was so good. Always enjoy your collections but the way! Hope next week is better for you!

Aww thank you for the kind words, I'm glad you enjoy seeing what I post. Now look I'll be the first person to say I'm not a dedicated CLAMP fan (I only really feel strongly about Magic Knight Rayearth), but I did read X back in the day and was actually buying Asuka in real time as the chapters started becoming increasingly sporadic.

I realise in retrospect how interesting it was to see the series slowly disappear right before my eyes. I don't think I noticed it at first, but then it sort of got like "oh, still no X huh?" about most issues of Asuka until it ceased appearing completely.

I think the most commonly cited explanation is the one from the group in a 2004 PAFU interview which notes the increasing number of real life disasters occuring (the Great Hanshin-Awaji Earthquake in '95 and the Kobe serial child murders in '97 as specific examples) and the changing social conditions as a result of these disasters making it difficult to for them to continue the series to its conclusion.

Whether this relates to editorial opinions on the appropriateness of the series continuing in that context, or simply a personal decision by the group to step back due to these real life incidents is hard to say for sure.

I think looking at CLAMP's increasing number of discontinued series over the past 20 years you could also argue that perhaps they simply lost steam with X and couldn't or didn't want to bring it to its intended conclusion for whatever reason -- and still don't. But whether this ties into a changing social response to their manga due to IRL isues or is related to something more straightforward like loss of interest, I can't really say.

Readers were truly invested in the series at the time though, that I can say unequivocally -- it was talked about in my online and IRL circles on a frequent basis during that early 00s period.

While it would be amazing to see a continuation of X some day with the 30th anniversary having been and gone & the PREMIUM COLLECTION volumes only having to 18.5, I have my doubts about them ever picking it up again.

So yeah, as I said I'm not a close CLAMP follower or particularly knowledgeable on their series, but that interview is really the only place they've said anything clearly about their reasons for suspending the title to my knowledge. Everything else, well, people will continue to speculate on for decades to come I imagine.

#answers #askbox #ask box #it's almost midnight so this is just me rambling #that interview covers the official reasoning #but i think the phrasing does still leave room for speculation #and let's face it when a popular series sputters to a stop people will speculate #i just never anticipated we'd still be doing it all these years later #i doubt i told you anything you don't already know but hope that helped anyway #thanks for the message :)

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suchaspookyginger · 1 year

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we're not thinking too hard about this, have some italkit!soul word vomit

________

he's watching maka practice japanese with tsubaki, tongue still too heavy on the japanese r, yet still trying so hard to cling to her mother's homeland, when he's suddenly reminded of his grandmother.

____

nonna bianchi, her hair as white as soul's and the fairest blonde before that to match wes's; eyes richer than molasses that glowed almost carmine in twilight. she carried herself with grace and dignity always, her back straight and her head high, making those surrounding her forget that she never quite reached five feet. she was born, like so few in her time, in america to judeo-italian immigrants.

(refugees, soul thinks to this day. they fled their community in venice to brooklyn before the pope had even denounced the rise in antisemitism during the fascist period. immigration, nonna said, because we were smart; we left when other italian jews were supporting mussolini's rise. refugees, wes agreed with soul, because we saw the smoke for what it was, because our blood and our bones remember fleeing sicily, remember fleeing spain, remember fleeing, fleeing, fleeing, if only to survive one more day. immigration, nonna said, because we still have our pride.)

nonna bianchi, whose first language was a pidgin hybrid of italian, ladino and english, yet spoke each individually with perfect clarity. nonna bianchi, who later collected languages like soul collects records, like maka collects books, was always careful with her company when speaking italian to soul ("they didn't care that i was born american, solomon," she said, steely gaze in the middle distance. "they only cared that my family's homeland was an enemy."). she was always careful with her company when teaching him hebrew, too ("these american goyim are our friends now, but their fathers and grandfathers supported hitler before american involvement in the war, and their children and grandchildren may support the next one. always be alert, son.").

nonna bianchi, whose first love was her culture, her second russian opera, instilled the love and drive for music in her children and grandchildren while also drilling in the holiness of shabbat, the importance of community, the yearning for their culture.

nonna bianchi, whose love for her grandchildren overflowed like wine during passover, yet overwhelmed them with her strive for perfection in judaism, perfection in performance, perfection in academics, to the point where soul just snapped. he broke and he broke down and he fled like his ancestors before him the second he had an out, the blades erupting from his arms providing him a lifeline away from the deep waters of his childhood home and expectations. (he never could worship lord death as the god he was, but he could work for him, work under him, work as a tool to keep this world safe. it took maka the better part of a year to understand why he didn't turn any lights on on saturdays and fasted every few months, his devotion to his people sporadic yet second nature. on an early mission to los angeles, he stumbled upon a small judaica shop, feeling a longing he hadn't realized ate away at him until that moment. he left with one mezuzah not dissimilar to the one on nonna's front door and a simple black kippah with red stitching. he only kisses the mezuzah on shabbat and holidays, and he has never worn the skullcap, but it sits in his drawer for a day he may need it. it brings him comfort regardless.)

nonna bianchi, whom soul called for the first time days after kidd made his auguration speech, calling for a new time with witches as allies and soul as the last death scythe.

"are you ready to come home, solomon?" nonna asked in italian as they reached the natural conclusion of their conversation, catching up on lost time, her voice slightly gruffer with age that soul missed over the last half-decade gone, the dulcet tones that brought her fame in her youth still in the under layers.

"i am home," he replied, his hebrew stiff but there - barely touched in his time away save for the high holidays and the occasional shabbat. he looks out from his spot on the couch in their living room, into the kitchen where maka is prepping dinner, "i found my music out here."

"and your judaism?" nonna asked. "surely working for a minor deity has caused issues."

"it's probably not how you'd hoped for me. death city is wanting for any jewish life, and i can't make it to my shul in vegas more than once a month for the most part. but maka, and everyone else, too, they do shabbat with me. we do tzedakah and hold seders and maka listens to me when i need to remember." soul paused, searching for the words - in english, italian, hebrew, it didn't matter, "it's not - sometimes it's lonely. i needed to leave, but it didn't stop me from missing wes, or mom and dad, or you. i didn't realize how much judaism, and being italian, was a part of me until i was no longer immersed in it."

"but you won't return."

"no, nonna. i'll visit, soon, but this is - maka, she's - i'm home here, in a way that i hadn't felt in new york, maybe ever."

"bring this girl with you," nonna said, "when you come visit. she sounds like a hell of a woman."

"she is, nonna."

"good," she chuckled, "maybe we can make a jew out of her yet."

soul spluttered, heat rising in his face. maka looked over at him in confusion when she heard him yell out, "nonna! not in english!"

____

soul's still watching maka and tsubaki talk from his spot on the couch. they've taken over the kitchen table, a few japanese workbooks meant for late elementary-aged children open to help maka practice her kana, sitting just as ignored as their cups half-full of tea as maka's face flushes pink. he can't tell if it's from concentration or their topic of discussion, but he smiles soft at her expression regardless.

soul is no expert in japanese, truly he doesn't understand a lick of it, but he can guess that their conversation has strayed to him by the number of times they say "sōru," the sound of his name a borrowed word all the more evident when tsubaki catches his eye and smirks. maka shoots her a sharp look and says something to her, lips careful yet clumsy as they form words still unfamiliar in her mouth, inflection at the end implying a question. tsubaki laughs, sugary sweet, as she obliges what is now clearly a subject change.

maka looks over at him after a while, smile soft and uncharacteristically shy, and a need washes over soul. he gets up, strides the short walk to where maka sits, and stands behind her, his face lightly buried in her hair.

"soul?" maka's voice is light, inquisitive. tsubaki raises an eyebrow, silent as she picks up her now surely cold tea and delicately sips at it.

he decides on hebrew. just because he needs to say it to her face doesn't mean he's not still terrified out of his mind. italian and ladino are too similar to spanish, and they're in close enough proximity to a few hispanic communities to hear spanish casually, and even maka knows enough to be able to figure out what he's saying without needing to actually know either language. hebrew doesn't have a distinction in the way that volere and amore are distinct, but his voice raw when ohev comes out of his mouth and he worries that she'll know regardless.

the whine that comes out of his mouth when she replies with her own "ohevet" is covered by her giggle, bright and musical as ever.

#soul eater #soul eater evans #soul evans #soul x maka #soma #maka albarn #character study #my writing #otp: literal soul mates #italian-jewish soul has owned my ass since 2015 now it's time to actually do something about it

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mayxthexforce · 6 months

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On The Outer Edge of The Law || Caij Vanda & Cad Bane

Starter for @nieithryn

The warmth and humidity of Koboh are just perfect for a Nautolan like Caij to thrive in, the peace and the quiet... not so much.

It got boring, there's no denying it. She'd lost count of how many afternoons she'd spent just dozing in a booth at the saloon– HER booth, because she had long since claimed it for herself, decorated to her liking with some souvenirs from her victories around the planet, ridding the galaxy of a few pests, a blast through an imperial trooper or separatist droid at a time. But even those little hunting trips were sporadic. After all, she's supposed to be lying low. Keeping her head down so it doesn't get shot off.

It's damn near torture. But it's also the only price she's willing to pay for what got her into all this trouble. She keeps having to remind herself that things could be much, much worse. If the Empire finds her, then there'll be real torture involved.

So she waltzes her way back into the saloon, carrying a bag of scrap over one shoulder while she holds a battle droid's head in the other. This one is painted with thin green lines. A nice addition to her collection, as the ones she has are either painted or have a pattern of thick, reddish brown lines. Big black eyes gaze around from behind the wide brim of her hat. The patrons are quiet, more so than normal. There's a certain... odd tension in the air. Something happened while she was out– not a fight, the place's too clean and she wasn't gone that long for it to have been a fight.

But there's a new face, one who stands out like a sore thumb among the regulars, one she recognizes. Cad Bane. Quite a sight to see so far away from– well, from everywhere.

She moves to the bar, drops the bag on the polished wooden surface with a clatter.

"How's the heat treatin' ya, Monk," she greets the droid already working on her drink while leaning against the bar, the steel-covered tip of one boot pressed against the smooth leather side of the other as she gets comfortable.

"Hello, Caij!" Monk answers with that same upbeat-ness and extroversion he does everyone else. His bartender programming preventing him from fearing for his life. "I am happy to inform that I possess a built-in cooling system. I cannot overheat at these temperatures."

Caij snorts, amused. She rests one elbow against the bar and holds the droid head up, looking into its optics, her free hand's clawed fingers tap at the wood in rapid succession: pinky, ring, middle, index, and repeat.

"What's a girl gotta do 'round here to get paid for a hard day's work– where's Greez?"

"He'll be here in a minute. Happy to give you credits for scrap, as usual, for sure!"

" 'course he is." the 'if he knows what's good for him' part of that sentence goes unsaid, but it's implicit in her tone.

There's a tension in the air. One that only begins to fade when she grabs her drink from Monk and moves to her usual spot, having no intention of going after Greez. Caij can wait. Of course she can wait, she's got all the time in the world.

She passes the blue bounty hunter on the way to her booth, tips her hat his way as she goes. He's got a nice hat himself, and a man who knows how to clean up nice deserves acknowledgement, bounty hunter or not.

#||in character: caij vanda||#& cad bane #||rp: on the outer edge of the law||#nieithryn #||verse: peace and quiet; caij vanda||

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shytastemakerthing · 2 months

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Hi I was hoping for a matchup!

Romantic and platonic of your okay with doing both if not just romantic :)

First off I am a Scorpio and my mbti is INTP but I'm more of amnivert.

As for my personality it depends on who I'm around. If it's people who are energetic and really loud I'll tend to keep a more motherly role, But if I'm around people who are more mature in nature I'll be the loud and stupid one. My sense of humor is pretty rude and sarcastic in general if I know the person I'm with can take it, if not I'll cool it down. I like to think I'm self aware of how others are feeling. I'm that one person who knows like everyone but isn't popular, if you know what I mean. However I don't have any close friends which kinda sucks but whatever. I don't wait around thinking things will get better, if I'm not being treated right I'm gone which has led me to ditching a few people.

I was accidentally told by my friend once that I come off as intimidating or hard to approach as well I didn't know till then but I have a horrible case of RBF so it makes sense. 💀

As for the things I like: the main thing has to be music I'm concerned for my ears atp, my favorite artists have to be Chase Atlantic, Lana Del Rey, The Weekend and Artic Monkeys. Candy, I have a sweet tooth but I'm trying to cut back a bit, trying new candies is pretty fun too. Video Games, but I'll mainly stick to hand held consoles(my phone or switch) I mainly play puzzle or mystery games, TV screens are too bright and loud. I enjoy going out and doing things with people too, helps get me out of the house.

My hobbies include: Lego: but the big complicated sets not the kids ones I swear 😭 Origami: I just like throwing Ninja stars at the people I know or maybe if a stranger is just sitting beside me I'll just give them a paper swan, the reactions are always cute y'know. Book/Manga collecting And finally trying out random things I have like one day hobbies y'know like maybe I'll start cooking for a week or crocheting, puzzles, stuff like that while watching a show I'm still trying to find a hobby to really pick up.

I don't play any sports though it's never been my thing, but I try to go on walks every other day which is nice.

Things I don't like are pretty limited, it's probably just bad scents and cat fur.

That's all I can think of right now so I hope I did this right and thank you!<3

A/N: Hello and thank you so much for your request as well as your patience given how long this one has been in my inbox! I hope that you enjoy your match-up and have a wonderful day/night!

Request: Twisted Wonderland Match-up

I match you with........

Floyd Leech

Look, there are a number of reasons as to why the chaotic, mood swings filled eel man was chosen

Make this man a ninja star and his menace level only increases

A lot

You may have had Jade and Azul come to you about this, one rather amused and delighted while the other is more frustrated

Not too hard to figure out which is which on that

Motherly mode comes out big time when he is one of his more sporadic moods

The chances of him getting into trouble or hurting himself is quite high but he loves that you are there to be able to take care of him, he almost seems docile........

Almost

But when he is in more of one of his sour moods, that's where your fun side comes out because no matter how deep in a slump he is in, you always manage to get him out of it

Yes, Azul and Jade have also come to you about that

Jade finds it rather impressive because not even him or his parents could get him out of a slump that easy

(Please marry him)

He strikes me as someone who would rather like Legos, whether they are simple or much more complex, it's a favorite pastime the two of you have

Crochet something for this man and he will carry it with him essentially for the rest of his life

Floyd is happy with you, one that won't be going away any time soon, he just hopes that you are as happy as he is, that's what matters to him

Thank you for your request!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #matchups #shy writes #shy answers #disney twisted wonderland #romantic #twisted wonderland Floyd leech #twst Floyd leech #Floyd leech

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consul-valerius · 1 year

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The top two contestants for “worst taste in Vesuvia”

Idhfgfdihg BUT in reality I have been having a lot of Damien-Verse Thots, specifically about Naima and Antony, so I used all my remaining brain cells to finally complete some headshots for them :’) For further context for those that miss my sporadic shouting on my main blog LOL:

Naima (she/they) is (obviously) the accidental but surprisingly welcomed daughter of Nadia and Julian, and she is one of Damien’s top love interests (even if she doesn’t realize this herself lmfao)

She is an extremely serious person to an almost comical extent; her main aspirations in life revolve around eventually becoming countess and pushing the changes her parents have began instituting to even larger heights.

With that though, she is also a very insecure person, particularly when it comes to her ability to make friendships. She feels extremely inadequate in comparison to Julian and Nadia, which can often cloud her judgement and lead to self-isolation (apple -> tree)

She has had a life-long crush on Damien, but particularly when they were children, she got swept up in how others treated him. She feels partially responsible for his disappearance, and so by default she now feels extremely protective of him but has difficulty showing it

On the flip side we have Antony (he/him): a farm-hand on one of Valerius’s family’s vineyards and is top choice number 2 for stealing Damien’s heart lol

Unlike Naima, Antony did not have a close relationship with Damien when they were children. However, he was very much head over heels for him when they first met as children and he never got over it

He is much more confident in himself when compared to Naima, particularly when it comes to his relationships with others. He has a close pack of friends that he wishes Damien would interact with more; they’re all queer, kinky, and share a collective brain cell lmfao

Many assume Antony is a hard person based on his style (renaissance punk boy LMAO), but really he has a heart of gold and cares deeply for the underdog. He is willing to wait as long as he needs to for Damien to fully embrace being in his own skin, and in an ideal world, settling down together :’)

Some more rapid fire thoughts and facts undercut✨

Naima is trans & ace and primarily enjoys kink as a means of letting loose and building more secure dynamics between herself and Damien; despite many suitors trying to woo her, she truly only has eyes for Damien and would rather remain unmarried than marry some earl she has no interest in (this is partially because of Nadia and her flub with Lucio lmfao)

Antony is trans, queer & poly like all my other OCs LMFAO he has the most relationship experience out of all three of them and it shows

Antony would be considered a bard, though he has no formal magic training. He and Donna have a very special relationship because of this; whenever they are together, Donna tries to teach him something new. Donna obviously has a soft spot for Antony and is very torn between wanting him and Damien to just shut up and get together, but they are VERY aware that Damien is just. Not ready for that & Antony deserves the world lmfao

On the flip, Naima and Valerius are quite close, particularly when he steps down as consul. He thinks that she is, in every way, the perfect suitor for Damien for personal and political reasons (LMAO), and oddly enough, Nadia can’t help but agree. particularly when Damien was still “missing,” Naima enjoyed just having silent time sharing a space with Valerius or listen to him and Nadia talk and talk and talk lol

When Damien disappeared, Naima spent a year living with Nasrin and Namar in Prakra for safety reasons—no one was sure if this was a targeted attack, and despite how painful it was, Nadia knew she would be best protected there than in Vesuvia. This was a very fundamental time for Naima, and because of it, she was extremely close to her grandparents (yes, this has given Nadia and even stranger complex lmfao)

IN TERMS OF EACH OTHER, Antony thinks that Naima is literally a princess and should be protected at all costs. She is too good for this world to him lmfao In the rare times where their paths cross, he has an uncanny ability of getting her out of her shell (it’s the autism to autism communication LMFAO) Naima, of course, is both in awe of Antony and feels very insecure around him. He is confounding to her, and she wishes that they were closer, she just isn’t sure how she would even go about it LMAO

In terms of how Damien views them, he is much more open about his feelings with Antony than he is with Naima. Antony was a lot of Damien’s firsts, and he is truly one of the only people who really make Damien feel beautiful and safe. However, he is deeply frightened by this too, especially when it comes to how Valdemar would react to their bond. He’s terrified of getting too close only for them to, well, get in the way in the way that Valdemar does best :x

With Naima, Damien thinks that he is in control of their relationship and his feelings for her but isn’t LOL he also had a childhood crush on her, even when she would join in with the others and bully him. Her cruelty hurt him the most, and in many ways he treats her so poorly to “get back” at her. However, this is pretty self-defeating as he winds up just feeling very guilty and self-loathing about it LMFAO

In summary, they are all a mess and are bursting with love and none of them know what to do with it LMFAO :’)

#introducing…#Lady Naima #Antony #<- i need a better tag for him LMAO #problem child Damien #Naima is a giant btw LMAO she’s 6’2 (just shy under Julian)#Antony is 5’10 and LARGE #he can easily lift them both in his arms if he wanted to (and he does—he’s just waiting for the okay LMAO)#my art #OC lore #bottom draws #bottom ponders

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esnyshire · 2 years

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Split

summary: Ms. Tegan Peach Burn is the CEO of Bruiser & Burn Law Associates. As her and her team search for the missing pieces to their current case, a heated argument turns steamy very quickly. Mr. Styles, one of Ms. Burns student lawyers has a thirst for second chair, a short tempter and lacks control over his urges.

warning: boss/employee dynamic, dirty talk, some degrading, hardcore fucking, rage sex, harry is a teasing little prick, Tegan likes it nasty rough

wc: 5.4k

♫ Stay Awake by Dishwalla

The hard stomps of my boss' heels echo off the walls of the law firm, she makes herself known in the most nerve-racking way. It reminds me of that immediate panic I'd get when hearing keys or heels coming down the hall at school. You knew, when you weren't supposed to be doing something but you still somehow ended up there. That's the exact way everyone feels who works with Ms. Burn when those elevator doors ding.

My coworkers all scramble to make themselves presentable, collecting the stacks of evidence we dug up for the trail. These last few days have been tortious. She's been over-working us, sporadically allowing breaks, expecting us to stay unethical hours at the office, and trying any tactic to get things moving quicker. She's been rather emotional over this case and has taken it out on everyone in the firm.

Law school had taken a big portion of my sanity years ago, and it feels like she picked up on that and is breathing down my back more than the rest of the team. she sees how desperate I am to be second chair and dangles it in my face to get at me. I'm the first one in the office and the last one to lock up. Everyone knows I deserve it. I work hard, I never complain and she's no fucking picnic. Her assistants quit every week, and she picks me to take the load off her back every time.

The majority of my coworkers won't even try to work with her. They would much rather be with anyone else in the firm. How I see it, if you want to be the best you have to learn from the best. Ms. Burn is just that, my best option.

Tegan is one of a kind. She's what everyone wants. A way out. A second chance. An opportunity.

She's smart, callous, and determined. The first woman to rank in the top three for best lawyer in the Continental U.S.

An elite. In more ways than one.

At least I think.

With every click of her heels, my mind slips further into panic mode, trying to decipher in the way she walks if she's in one of her moods or not. The food I just scarfed down, threatens its way back up my esophagus. I swallow harshly leaning back in my chair, debating on if I should attempt to run through the tempered glass window and plummet to my eighty-seven-story death.

"I just finished up with Mrs. Stein," Ms. Burn barely walks into the room, wasting no time to start working. "We are missing something, I can't put my finger on it! I looked over every file trying to come up with something that isn't right but goddamn, this case is fucking me right now." Her raunchy statement goes under the radar. Everyone is so used to her, they barely flinch. "The maid, the doorman, his wife, the daughter, his estranged son, along with the death certificate of the estranged son's mother. Every single fucking witness statement!" Tegan thrashes her briefcase out in front of her, struggling to get her arm out of the sleeve of her pea coat. She rambles on like she's the only one in the room. Her eyebrows crease and her anxious lip biting begins.

It's safe to say that although I am very much afraid of my boss, I am also extremely turned on whenever she yells. Since the start of my career at Bruiser & Burn Law Associates, she's had me pitched in my slacks. Even after years of seeing how wicked she is, it did nothing to hinder my attraction for her. Her temper is what fuels my interest. I'm constantly wondering if she's just as temperamental in bed as she is in the office. Whether her tongue is as witty when she's tied up and pinned to the bed. Fantasies flash in my mind every day since working with her, I'm not happy about it one bit. I want to hate her. She makes my life hell. The drop of her suitcase snaps me back to reality.

"We have the murder weapon, two prints. His wife's and the maid. How can I miss som-" she pauses and looks around the room, quickly becoming irritated. "Why haven't any of you figured this out yet!?"

"If you haven't found it yet, how do you expect them to? Tegan- I mean Ms. Burn I thi-" I begin to say, but I'm cut off by her yelling.

"I refuse to have the judge and jury believe his wife murdered him all for money, after all, we've..." she covers her mouth and looks away, gathering herself before she speaks again. But I speak before she does.

"You're right," I say. "Someone's lying." The bile in my throat from holding down my vomit is still fresh as it burns its way down.

"What are you implying Styles?" She scoffs. She always questions my thinking, just cause she can.

"I was simply saying-" she interrupts me again. Right about now I'd be screaming back, and putting up a fight. Anything to get her to shut the fuck up. Her words cuts like knives but those soft pretty lips look like they can do no wrong...

God.

"I don't care what you were saying, I care about my client. I care about how she's being falsely accused of murdering her fucking husband!" Her face turns pink and her voice picks up an octave.

The only fucked up part about this is she's basically a dark cloud that looms over her own office. This case has her exploding with feelings. She suffocates us, shoveling her pent-up anger on my back and drowning us all in the process. But God is she sexy and on any day before today, you would've heard me express my dislike for her. Except right now, I can't get the visual of her legs wrapped around my neck out of my damn head.

"You'll give a fuck about what I'm saying when you find out your little widow is hiding something from you!" My jaw tightens, instinctively stopping myself from speaking anymore.

She stares, examining my face. Probably wondering if she imagined someone speaking down to her.

It's been very challenging to contain my secret urges , but I also don't hide my distaste for Tegan. it's almost impossible to keep my mouth shut and simultaneously hide the strong desire to shove my cock so far down her throat she won't be able to talk for a week.

I've worked for Tegan long enough to know that she does not do relationships. I know she has sex because they call here sometimes, asking for her but she just leaves them on hold and never gets back to them. They either get filtered or just hang up. Work is her life and I don't think she'd ever put anyone above it. Although I've been hiding my feelings towards Peach, I can't help but feel like today is the day it all gonna come rushing out.

God forgive me for what I'm about to do.

"Look who knows how to shut up." My whole body freezes, regretting my word vomit instantly. The battle happening within me has me not thinking so clearly. I need to get out of here.

"Everyone out!" She yells. Her fists are balled as she continues to stare at the floor. "Leave your shit where it is and get out. I don't need you anymore. Go home."

Instantly my palms begin to clam, I can't even get myself to look at her. I push myself off the chair and begin to make a b line for the elevator, I barely make it past the threshold.

"Not you. You're mine for the night. Sit." She walks around the table, reaching for one of today's evidence piles.

I finally get to courage to look her way, standing with a Manila folder. She flicks through the pages skimming over information. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I already feel this night is going to be filled with screaming.

With the last of her employees entering the elevator not far behind her, I feel the safety of a group dynamic diminish. The second we hear the ding of the closing doors, she lets me have it.

"How fucking dare you speak to me like that! In front of my firm?! At all?!" She shouts.

This was not how it was supposed to go. I just can't fucking stand her. She's all loud and powerful and I like that shit.

She riled me up! She fucking started it.

"I let you in my firm, I taught you, I still do?! I let you in on wonderful cases!" She points at me, her movements are so hard I feel free her finger pressed to my chest from 10 feet away.

"I-" I go to speak.

Bad idea. She hastily makes her way to where I'm standing. She pushes me into the chair and rests her palms on the armrests.

"Who said to speak." Her words sound more like a demand than a request.

"I own this," She waves her hand all around her, making sure I know what she means. "I've worked hard for it, I don't-"

"I never said you didn't work hard, you're just horrible at listening to people." I rush out my words, I feel myself growing frustrated.

Just breathe.

"You think people listened to me when I had something to say?! I'm a woman in a man's field." She scoffs, rolling her eyes like a little kid just stepped on her brand new white shoes. "I crawled my way to the top. Bloody nails and all to prove it!"

"I treat you the same way my father treated me when I worked for him."

"Disposable?"

"It's cause you are." she doesn't even hesitate to confirm my suspicions.

"You're not-"

"If I wanted to talk about my daddy issues with someone, it would be my therapist." With every word, a brick is added to her wall. "Call Mrs. Stein, tell her I need to speak with her." She sighs, handing me the folder. "I'll be organizing in the meantime."

I nod and make my way to the phone attached to the wall. I dial the numbers and wait.

"Stein's residence." A voice breaks the ringing.

"Hello Mrs. Stein? it's Mr. Styles from Bruiser & Burn Law Associates."

"Speaking. Is everything ok?"

" Yes, Mrs. Stein. I'm calling on behalf of your lawyer Ms. Burn. She has asked that you to come in and we can speak about some things involving the case."

"Right now?"

"Yes, that would be in your best-" The line goes dead. I feel the wire, making sure it's still incorrectly. Then the dial tone button.

I type the numbers again, trying to call back but the lights begin to dim around me, breaking my attention from the phone to the ceiling. The sound of the high-powered electric building hums loudly as it powers down.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I hear Tegan on a mission to the circuit breakers. I quickly follow behind her, wanting to know what's happening. Our last contact with the outside world gets severed when the light above the elevator begins to flicker until it can't any more.

"Shit, shit, shit." Tegan pulls at the root of her hair, panic slowly starts to settle in.

She runs past me, and into her office. She grabs her purse and shuffled through it until she finds what she needs. I go to speak but I'm interrupted by a yelp of happiness.

"Yes!" She clicks some buttons on her blackberry as she checks her phone book for a number.

"No, no, no!"

"What?" I run to her office and see her fiddling with her phone. I run to my office adjacent to hers and grab my phone.

I get the same realization when I read 'NO SERVICE' in bright blinking letters across my blackberry.

We are stuck.

"Fuck." I whisper to myself.

The creeping feeling from earlier comes back to me at full force. I'm alone with my bitch of a boss and I happen to want to fuck her brains out.

I can do this.

I just need to stay level-headed.

Hard isn't even the word to use for the amount of restraint I'm using to stop myself from doing the things I want to do.

"Looks like we're stuck here for the weekend." She's in the frame of my door with her stupid fucking calm demeanor.

"What do you mean the weekend?" The thought of being stuck in this building with Tegan for the next three days does not sound bearable.

All the privacy in the world, no interruptions, and no avoiding.

"Well, yeah. This building is electrically powered. Since we have no service and the backup generator hasn't kicked in yet. So, I'd say we are stuck until someone comes into work." she pauses with a fake tight-lipped smile.

"Want to eat leftover Pad Thai with me in my room?" She asks me, taking a look at her watch not even phased by our predicament.

"No, I don't want your- you were just freaking out, why the fuck are you so calm right now." I grab my hair and pull on the roots.

"I sleep here, it's no different-"

"Stop talk! Just stop talking!" I yell.

No different. Sure, absolutely none right? Except I'm here stuck with you and I'm a ticking sex bomb ready to blow.

"Would you calm down, it's not that ser-"

"Stop talking before I make you." The stunned look on her face tells me all I need to know.

Here we go.

"You don't know when to shut the fuck up do you?"

"I'm your boss."

"Like I could forget! You remind us every chance you get." I scoff. "You have the prettiest goddamn lips, but the downside to them is only vicious things come out of it."

"Mr. Styles! I'm giving you one chance to take back the things you've said tonight."

She puts on this boss-like act, trying to ignore the fact that my degrading words have her clamping her thighs together to get some type of relief.

"Shut the fuck up. You talk a lot you know that?" Her hand shoots up to her mouth to cover it. She hesitates, doing what she was told to do but questioning why she listened in the first place.

"I'm gonna talk this time and you're going to listen. Got that?"

She nods.

"Good girl."

Tegan P.O.V

What is happening?

I don't like this. Not one fucking bit.

He's my employee. I can't. The throbbing between my legs has me obediently obliging.

I've had my fantasies about Harry, I partially hired him because of how attractive he is. The only thing that stopped me from pursuing him was the mutually agreed hatred my employees have for me, he jumped right on the bandwagon.

"You are cold, stubborn, and a know it all." He lists things I've heard my whole life. "You don't know what teamwork is and for the life of me, I can't understand why you push everyone away." He's barely even started and he's already hit some nerves. I look down at my feet in disappointment."But you are the sexiest woman I've ever laid eyes on and I can't keep myself from getting hard when you yell at me."

"I-"

"What the fuck did I just say?" His voice is low, barely above a whisper.

"Fuck you! You can't just insult me and expect me not to say anything!"

"Oh, I was planning on it." His sadistic tone only turns me on more, goosebumps form all down my spine. No. I can't let this happen. The first thing I think to do is leave. So, that's exactly what I do. I can't go anywhere, but it's the effort that counts.

"Get back here." He demands.

"For what? So you can berate again? No thanks." I shuffle with the paper in front of me, needing something to distract myself with.

He walks up to my back, leaving no room for me to move. My hands fall flat on the stacks of files, my breathing stops and I feel like I could pass out. I've wanted this since his first day of working here. This shouldn't be happening but I can't control my body cause there's no oxygen coming to my brain. I'm a fucking vegetable and it's the worst timing because I need this. I'd also love to hear him moaning my name. Fuck me.

The cold fabric of his pants suit snakes its way between my legs. His thigh puts pressure on my ass and my whole body shivers from the soft touch of Harry's hand on my waist.

"What are you doing?" I'm so out of breath I can barely get the sentence out. It's getting harder to breathe, oh god.

"Do you want me to stop?" His voice is strained with a hint of curiosity.

No, why would I want that?

He slides his hand across my torso to the valley between my breasts, pulling my body into his. My head rolls back on his shoulder as my body falls into him. My mouth moves before my brain can process and that's the last of my sanity.

"Are you going to fuck me or what?"

"How do you like it Peach?"

"Peach?"

He quickly grabs me by my throat and puts a little pressure, just enough to feel that rush I love so much. Oh, so that's how we're playing this? I assumed he was pressed and prim.

"I gave you options, but I'm thinking now I should just show you how I like it. Sound good Peach?"

I smile a little at him using my middle name.

"Fantastic." I roll my eyes.

He turns me around and slams his lips to mine.

The kiss is sloppy and desperate. His hands roughly explore my body and I instinctively reach for his hair. I slip my fingers through the short brown curly hair and tug on him to be closer to me.

I guide my hands down his back, taking off his suit. His hands make their way to my breast, groping and massaging my tender nipples through my bra. He harshly rips my shirt. Buttons fly across the office as I squeal in shock.

"I knew you were a dirty fucking lawyer." He breaks the kiss and goes for his belt.

My stomach flips in the excitement of this beautiful man stripping in front of me. "Shut up and take your cock out." He lets his pants fall to his feet and kicks them off. He walks to me, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. I gulp hard as I see his shirt pitch up a little, I look closer to see it's his dick, sticking so far out it's damn near stretching the fabric.

His hands glide up my thighs, causing goosebumps to travel to my already hardened nipples. "I'd like you to know one thing before I stuff your pretty little cunt." My breath hitches in my throat, I look him straight in the eyes and wait for him to continue. "I think about fucking you way more than I should" he whispers, lifting me to sit on the table. "I wonder how good your mouth feels." He takes his time in feeling my body, holding me close. Leaving wet and bruising kisses on my chest. Suckling softly as he travels up to my neck.

"I've fantasized you riding my dick, screaming my name. It'd do you some good to scream out of pleasure than out of anger, don't you think?" He chuckles in my ear. He snaps my bra strap on my skin and a small hiss escapes my lips. I can feel him smiling in the way he's breathing. My pelvis bucks against the table, trying to get some type of relief for my poor clit.

"Fuck." I speak out. I feel so dizzy. The whole office smells of Harry and I'm stuck on stupid. "Just fucking touch me."

"Oh don't worry sugar lips, I will." He grabs me by the back of my neck and presses our lips together. He wastes no time in ripping my skirt by the slit on the side, exposing my crotchless thong. He lifts my legs to his waist and goes to touch my swollen clit. What has him doing a double-take is the pink rubber oval ring sticking out of my vagina. Along with a shiny diamond butt plug to match.

"I thought you said you knew I was dirty?" He stares at my dripping core, not even listening. I laugh at him and spread my legs some more. Giving him full access to his watch party. "Harry?"

"C'mon baby, look up while you fuck me with your tongue." I feel myself growing impatient, feeling that small fire in my stomach grows.

Harry pulls my core up to his chest, just below his chin. His breath fans over my pussy and my head thumps against the table. I'm practically levitating with Harry using all his core strength to keep me level to his face. He licks a stripe up my wet lips. My mouth drops in pleasure, finally chipping away the ache that's formed rather quickly.

A moan slips from my lips. "Oh god."

"You can do better than that." He pushes his face down back to my cunt, sucking hard on my clit. My back arches and my fingers claw at my thighs.

"Fuck, that feels so good. Harry don't stop." I gasp for air. "More" He slips his middle finger in my soaking core, feeling my walls wrap around him. He curves his finger in subtle movements, allowing the slow build to burn its way through my body.

"You like that Peach? I've barely touched you and you're ready for me." He stifles a laugh and I groan in frustration. His silly little banter with himself has me feeling flustered.

"Please, cut the fucking shit," I yell in pleasure as he continues his fast finger motions. He takes his free hand and brings his thumb to my clit, circling until I'm crunching up towards him. He takes a second finger and enters me slowly this time. Barely allowing me to adjust.

"Oh fuck!" I moan with my jaw locked tight. So much is happening in such a short time, before I know it I'm coming all over his fingers.

"That's right, make a mess for me Peach. Tell me how you feel." He pressures me to speak.

"Don't stop!"

"Yes!"

"Lemme hear it, baby!" He grunts as he thrashes his hand in and out of my pussy, curving his fingers at just the right angle to make my toes curl in my stilettos.

"Harry!" I cry out, eyes rolling to the back of my head. My abs are sore and so are my legs, my body goes limp and he lays me on the table. He hovers over me kissing my damp skin. I haven't opened my eyes yet, they feel so heavy I barely have the strength to look up.

He takes his tongue and travels across my breasts and down my stomach. I'm grabbed by my wrists and forcefully sat up. He tilts my chin up to look at him. "Look at me, Tegan."

My name coming out of his mouth had my eyes shooting open.

"Tell me to keep going." He demands.

"Keep doing." I rush out. He lifts my legs above his shoulder and whips out his cock, he positions himself at my entrance and slowly teases my hole. He sinks his tip in which elicits a grumble from the depths of Harry's chest. He teases his way in, barely moving an inch. I'm caught off guard when he slams himself in me, hitting my cervix one good time. Just to show he can.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good Peach," his voice is deep and slow. I've never heard him sound like this before. My pussy tightens around him at the nickname he's given me. "Fuck you 'till you can't walk anymore." He grabs me by my hair and pulls me to kiss him. His lips are soft and my brain is fuzzy I can't even put together a coherent sentence.

"Mhm." I moan.

He braces himself and thrusts into me again. This time it's fast and rough. With every slap of his balls against my ass, he fucks a small gasp of air out of me. From the harsh kisses to my lips, and the rough smacking of skin to my already bruised pussy I feel ready to cum again.

"Oh god, I'm close." I reach out to him, scratching at his arms and back. Trying to keep me from screaming out.

"Not so fast." He pulls out and flips me around. He spreads my legs with his foot and lifts me so I stand on my tiptoes. He places his hands on the crease of my arm and holds them behind my back. He's so hard he doesn't need hands to line himself up to my cunt. He slams into me the hardest he has tonight, grunting and heavy breathing are all that surround my ears and I'm falling further into hell because I have never felt dirtier. He licks up my back and blows a cold burst of air, blinding my senses temporarily.

"Harder." I barely get the word out.

"Gladly, now throw it back Peach or I'm going to stop" He pulls on my arms, thrusting deeper into me. My head falls foreword.

I open my eyes and see he's staring at me through the glass, sweat collects on his forehead from the workout he's putting in. His hair is stringy and his lips are red from biting them so much. He presses a wet kiss to my lips as he grabs my neck to bring me closer to him.

He bends his knees and slides back into me, from the new angle i feel a million different things, my body erupts in chills as a guttural sound escapes my body from being contorted in positions I'm not used to. I'm overstimulated, to say the least. I can't feel my feet and my head feels hot while my chest feels cold. I'm shaking consistently as he slowly pumps himself with my body.

"I'm not done with you yet." He speaks out into the room.

"I'd hope so." I giggle.

A smack echo off the walls of the office, immediately stinging begins on my right ass cheek. Adrenaline rushes through my body as he cracks down again on the same spot.

"Shit!" I screwed my eyes as my pussy clamps down again.

"I'm having so much fun seeing what's gets you off." He grunts. "How easy it is to make you cum."

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me!" I lose more of my resolve as I beg for him to do something. Crack. This time it's my left cheek.

That's gonna bruise.

"I love it when you yell at me." He pulls out and moans as he sees my juices dripping off him. He turns me around and slides two-finger across his dick, gathering some cum and shoving them in my mouth.

"Look how pretty you've made my cock." He tilts his head as he watches me suck on his fingers. "I wanna see you choke now." He pushes me down to my knees and I waste no time and shove him in my mouth. I moan at the taste of my juices mixed with his pre cum. "Show me what you got my Peach" he smiles down at me. I swirl my tongue around his tip, feeling him throb in my mouth. My eyes close in satisfaction. I push myself down on him, taking in every inch until I can't anymore. His tip is sensitive and thrusts forward accidentally causing me to choke. The small panic of not being able to breathe only encourages me to keep going. Bobbing my head at a speed that has my head feel light.

"Oh, yes." He vocalizes. "Tegan, mhm just like that." I'm so worked up I reach between my legs and begin to touch myself, wanting nothing more than to feel that so deserved orgasm. He opens his eyes to look at me in a disapproving way. He shakes his head and tisks at me. His finger sways in front of my face like I'm a cat that just knocked over the plants. He grabs my face and shoved his cock to the back of my throat. He violently fucks my mouth as his eyes squint tight and grind his teeth against his bottom lip.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" He yells at me, barely able to keep his voice stable. He gives me no time to adjust to standing and bends me over. My hands are gripping my ankles and I can see him pressing his dick to my clit. He playfully glides his tip against my lips, collecting out juices and pumping his cock.

"Let me help you with that my Peach." His voice is soft, yet sounds like he's holding onto his last peace of rationality.

"Please."

He pushes himself in and stills for a second, trying not to cum from my constant clenching. It's beginning to hurt and I don't think I can manage to go any longer. I feel like I'm going to pass out. He holds me up with one arm across my torso, squeezing my hard nipple getting me to clench even hard than before. I cry out in pain as he continues his torturous mission. As he slides his fingers across my clit I feel my nails dig into my ankles. I'm trying to distract myself, need something to keep me from melting in his hands.

"Come on Tegan, let go." He comes in my ear. "I've got you Peach." His words are reassuring and make my body goes numb in pleasure.

"Harry, please." His fingers on my clit won't stop and his thrusts only get harder as I try to keep my balance.

"I wanna feel you wrap around my cock, your warm pretty pussy feels good. Oh god." He moans out his sentence.

He's in another world, gripping and pulling me into his body. It's an indescribable feeling that begins to pulse in my ears. The constant building in my stomach reaches its peak and I'm screaming my life away. Giving everything I've held back this whole time.

"Fuck me, Harry! I love it! Yes! Ah!"

"Harder?"

"Yes!"

"Anything for you, Ms. Burn."

"Oh my god!" My legs begin to cramp as the blood rushes to my head.

Harry twitches inside me no longer after.

"Peach. My Peach. Oh, Tegan. Yes! Fuck! " he doubles over in pleasure. We fall to the cold ground together, unable to catch out breaths as we ride our highs.

"That was..." I say.

"Yeah...that was..." he says.

"Yeah."

We look at each other and burst out in laughter. My mouth is so dry and the room is spinning, I don't even register the click of the emergency door opening, and footsteps approaching the office.

"Ms. Burn, Styles! Are you ok?" our co-worker comes rushing in, leaving no time to cover ourselves.

"Oh shit, sorry I heard yelling I thought you guys were... fighting." He looks around the room and falls on my breasts. Harry is quick to cover them.

"OI! Get the fuck out!" he points at him.

"Right, my bad." He focuses on the floor and walks backward. He bumps into the frame of the door. "The power will be back up shortly. Ms. Stein saved the day. She said the call went dead but she still showed up. When she did arrive the doors were locked and security couldn't get out. The electrician was called" He frantically says. "She's waiting for you down in the main hall." He rushes out the room, buying us some time to get dressed.

"Is my peach all pleased and bruised?" I roll my eyes and slap his ass, he jumps and uses the cluster of clothes to hide.

"Just peachy." I giggle out my words. "Bruised and peachy."

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