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summerlovingbaby · 3 years

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The Winter Solider Project

“ Get out of my house.” Isaiah snarled. “ And don’t you dare go bother that girl. Not about this nonsense, she doesn’t need any of this. Not right now.” He yelled after them, as he kicked them out of his house in a fit of anger. Once on the street, Bucky looked at his feet preparing for Sam’s much needed fit of anger.

“Sam…” Bucky started.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Isaiah? How could nobody bring him up? I asked you a question, Bucky?” Sam asked, he could feel the anger rising in his face.

“I know.”

“Steve didn’t know about him?”

“He didn’t. I didn’t tell him.”

“So you’re telling me that there was a black Super Soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it? And what girl is he talking about?” Sam yelled. “ Where are you going? I asked you a question?”

“ You can yell at me on the way, we gotta get help?” Bucky said walking to the car.

“So, you did it all right, but it didn’t help with the nightmares.” Dr. Raynor said matter of factly.

“Well, like I said, I didn’t have any.” Bucky said, looking away to avoid the look in her eyes. The subtle look of disappointment and irritation, settled deep in her eyes.

“Look… one day, you’re gonna have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you and that they can be trusted.” She said finally closing the notebook.. Bucky could finally relax knowing that the notebook was out of sight.

“I trust people.” Bucky lied. For a trained killer, he was a quite the horrible liar.

“Yeah? Give me your phone.” She said holding out an expectant hand. Bucky took the phone out of his pocket, and debated throwing it out of the window. But he didn’t, and handed her, his phone and watched her tap the screen nervously. ”You don’t have ten phone numbers on this thing. Oh, and you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. “ She smacked her lips. “ Oh my gosh, you’ve called Y/N 52 times this week, that’s sad.”

Bucky and Sam arrived on a plain looking front porch, with a plain looking motorcycle in the front yard. With a plain looking flower garden and a plain looking doorknob.

“ Where are we?” Sam asked.

Bucky started to respond, but the door swung open before he got the chance to respond. On the other side of the door stood a woman. She had a snarky smile on her face, and her eyes were narrow, her eyebrows furrowed together.

“ What did I miss a therapy appointment?” She asked rather plainly. She had a tall stature, and was planted firmly one her own two feet. Bucky’s eyes darted to the ground before, he looked up at her. With those eyes, she knew those stupid eyes. Those pleading eyes.“ What do you want?” She sighed.

“ I don’t want anything.” He lied. “ I smell cookies. Did you bake cookies?” He asked, brushing past her, and changing the subject. Y/N shook her head no slightly, while sighing. Her mouth pulled into a thin straight line. Then she flashed a very fake smile at Sam, and opened her arms in a welcoming motion. Sam nodded his head slightly then walked through the door.

Sam followed Y/N into the kitchen, surprised to see Bucky sitting on her kitchen counter. Sam quietly sat down at the dining room table. Bucky was rummaging through a container of cookies. And had one halfway out of his mouth.

“ Did you know I was coming?” He asked, through muffled words, a cookie still in his mouth.

“ No, why?”

“ You made me cookies.” Bucky laughed . A small smile fell upon Y/N’s face, but it soon dropped to one of sadness.

“ They are not for you, they are for my neighbor. Look Buck, it’s not that I don’t enjoy your company, but you want something.” Y/N said, opening the fridge for a bottle of water.

“ We need your help.” Sam interjected. “ I’m Sam Wilson, by the way.”

“ Nice to meet you Sam, I don’t know if Bucky told you, but I’m Y/N.” Y/N said, her eyes fell to the floor, as she leaned on her kitchen countertops. Sam smiled and nodded politely.

“ Why does that name sound familiar?” He asked.

“ Probably saw it somewhere on the news, I’m kind of famous.” Y/N said sarcastically. Bucky laughed.

“ Y/N I hate to ask-”

“ Then don’t.” Y/N spoke harshly, before she fled the kitchen.

“ Y/N wait.” Bucky called after her, his eyes fell to the floor. Then he muttered something to himself about being a crappy friend, before he hopped off the kitchen counter to follow her. Sam stayed in the kitchen, still very confused. He had no idea who this woman was, and why they need her help specifically. He was still reeling over the fact that there was a secret black super solider that nobody knew about.

Bucky followed Y/N into the hallway, very surprised to see that she was waiting for her in the hallway. Her tall and tough stature had diminished greatly, he shoulders were haunched over. It was almost as if a strong gust of wind would blow through the hallway and knock her over.

“ 5 minutes.” She started.

“ I know.” Bucky said, he was making direct eye contact with Y/N, with those sad and understanding eyes. Those eyes that were filled with guilt and sadness.

“ 5 minutes, I just wanted 5 minutes of peace. I’ve never had that, I’m never going to get that, am I?”

“ Y/N-”

“ I just wanted the world to stop spinning for a few minutes, so I could just have a break. I keep going from fight after fight after fight... most of them not by my choice. And when I finally get to chose, I’m still fighting. And just for a few moments, it was calm. Nobody wants me to kill anyone, nobody is actively hunting me down, and now you’re dragging me back into a fight because six teenage super soldiers are running rampant?”\

“ You know?”

“ Yes I know, I watch the news.” She snapped. She looked away, her eyes filling with tears, before she blinked them away. “ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you, I just..”

“ I know. I’m sorry.” He apologized. “ We could just really need help.”

“ You’re gonna go see Zemo, aren’t you?” She asked finally looking at him. She stood taller now, firm on both her feet.

“ Yeah.” He replied.

“ You’re going to break him out of prison?” She asked already knowing what he was going to say.

“ More than likely”

“ Are we going to end up in Madripoor?”

“ Probably”

“ Great.” She concluded while nodding.

They both returned to the kitchen. Sam still sitting at the table waiting expectantly. Looking around at all the oddly decorated kitchen , when he realized. Exactly where he was. He was in Y/N Y/L/N house.

“ Oh my god.” Sam muttered to himself quietly. He remembered reading about her some years ago. She was a agent of HYDRA, just like Bucky. Brainwashed and made to kill. She was taken in the late 60′s. One of the first female Navy SEALs. HYDRA took her when she was not much older than 23. Credited with over 73 kills, 20 of those being high profile targets.

By this time, Y/N and Bucky were standing in the kitchen.

“ Ready?” Bucky asked. Sam nodded in response.

And with that they were out of the door. Y/N was doing a favor for Bucky, Bucky was currently holding a jar of cookies. Sam was still very confused.

“ Crap, I forgot to water my plants.” Y/N mumbled to herself quietly, before she ran back into the house.

“ Her and those succulents.” Bucky smiled to himself quietly.

“ Y/N L/N... were getting help from Y/N L/N. And you didn’t deem it a good idea to tell me.” Sam yelled.

“ Its not like we have much of an option.”

“ We don’t need anymore help , Bucky.”

“ We do. Do you realize what we are up against.”

“ No Bucky. I had no idea. We could get help from Walker.”

“ Not gonna happen Sam, I’m not doing that.”

“ Then what are we doing?” Sam yelled

Despite Y/N being all the way in her house. She did hear Sam and Bucky yelling. She assumed it was about her, and went back to watering her succulents. They were doing good, growing big and strong. Then she heard police sirens outside.

She ran outside to see Bucky in the back of a police car and Sam looking quite angry. She ran up to them to try and diffuse the situation.

“ What the heck is going on here?” She asked the police officer.

“ Are you Y/N L/N?” He asked, not awnsering her question.

“ Who wants to know?” She asked sarcastically.

“ Okay Ms. L/N, you’re under arrest.” He said reaching for Y/N, she backed up, trying not to let her reflexes take over. If they did, she would have body slammed him to the ground.

“ Woah.” Sam said stepping in between the pair. He saw the glassy eyed, and panicked look on her face. “ Lets all calm down.”

“ I wasn’t talking to you sir.” The police officer yelled, pushing him back, and grabbing at Y/N.

“ Why am I being arrested?”

“ You missed a therapy appointment.” He said, grabbing at her again.

“ What? No I didn’t.”

He ended up grabbing at her wrist before twisting her arm behind her back, and slamming her face down into the car. Y/N grunted as her head hit the car. She could hear Sam protesting, and tried to say something but she couldn’t speak, due to the massive gash on the side of her head. And the blood dripping from her nose.

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

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Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

“Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It’s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

#ns*fw #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc

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an-actual-angel · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader, Collin (RK800-60) x Reader, Richard (RK900) x Reader

Summary: The year was 2082. 44 Years after the android revolution. Things have turned south for humanity. Androids now rule the world, leaving humans to be considered as mere animals. While some Androids still have a general disdain for humanity some have taken to the idea of keeping them as “family pets.” You, born in captivity, specifically bred to be the perfect pet happen to get adopted by the RK brothers.

Chapter Description: Connor wonders what Richard is apologising for.

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Chapter 34 - She burns like the sun.

“Apologized?” Connor's eyes darted between yourself and Richard.

You bit your lip and glanced off to the side trying to think of a way to explain the situation to Connor without causing any type of hostility between the brothers.

“For everything.” Richard spoke up. “This whole situation, it’s my fault.”

Connor looked completely baffled, his LED spun yellow as he tried dissecting what Richard was saying, searching for an indication as to whether he was being truthful or playing another one of his mind games.

Richard did seem genuinely distressed, his forehead and shoulders were both flooded with tension. “Trying to control her, telling her what to do, how to dress, who she can and can't talk to.” He begins to explain again. “Treating her like an inferior. Fucking buying her in the first place!”

Connor turned back to face you, he reached out his hand to give yours a tight squeeze. You couldn’t bear to look at either of them at this moment. Your brain was too busy processing all of this new information.

Richard spoke your name softly, his smooth voice pulling you to finally look at his face again. “You didn't deserve any of this. I was an idiot, trying to prove a point. A point that I don't even... Believe now.”

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and nodded, not really knowing what to say.

“What changed?” Connor asked, his voice soft and slightly wary.

Richard’s lips became thin as he looked over at you. His eyes fell down to the floor before they gathered the courage to look back up at Connor. “Look.” He exhaled a deep, artificial sigh. “Connor, there's some stuff I've never told you.” Richard stops for a minute to look back at you. “Unless you-?”

You shook your head no. No, you didn’t tell Connor and no you didn’t want Richard to be the one to tell him either.

Oh god, was Richard going to be the one to tell Connor?

“That's what I was afraid of.” Richard sighed again.

“What? What's going on?” Connor insisted, slightly more impatient this time.

You should have spoken up, interrupted, called Connor off to the side to speak privately but you were in a state of shock from the whole situation. Instead, all you did was grip tightly at Connors sleeve.

“Look, don't worry. Let me start out by saying it happened way before you two where together.” Richard attempts to explain himself.

Connors hand releases from yours. “You better not say what I think you’re going to say.” His voice picks up slightly, sounding as if he is speaking between his teeth.

Richard exhales, holding his hands up as if to try and calm the situation. “Connor, it was completely consensual.”

“You son of a bitch!” Connor lunges forward at Richard, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him into the wall.

“You bastard! You used her, didn’t you? You treated her like an animal and then used her! Is that why you wanted a human, you sick pervert.”

“It wasn't like that!” Richard pushed Connor off himself, his push so forceful that Connor landed on the floor.

“Oh please, enlighten me then,” Connor growls, getting back to his feet.

“It was an accident, it hadn't meant to go that far.”

An accident?

Oof, bad word choice on Richard’s part, he realized it as soon as he said it, wishing he could take the words back. He didn’t mean it like that!

'She’s a person!' Connor bellows as he tackles the taller android to the ground. They both smackdown flat on the dark marble floor, Connor landing on top of Richard. He pushes himself up to give Richard what he deemed as a well-deserved punch in the face.

Richard attempted to push him off, he didn't want to fight, but Connor wasn't letting up. His only other idea was to give Connor a solid kick to the Solar plexus.

In all the shock and confusion you didn't know what else to do other than to call for Collin’s help. Your shaky voice cries out his name. Luckily enough, he had already been on his way up the stairs to see what all the shouting had been about.

“For fuck sake.” He grumbles once he arrives on to the scene and notices his brothers brawling.

Collin sprints to grab your shoulder and pulls you back. “Go downstairs.” He instructs you before attempting to intervene with his brothers.

But you were frozen still on the spot. Not really processing what Collin said, just watching the scene unfold as your legs struggled to keep you standing.

This was all your fault.

You watched as Collin wrapped his arms around Connor in an attempt to pull him away from the situation.

“He used her!” Connor spits. “For his on sick enjoyment!”

“It wasn't like that you self-righteous bastard!” Richard barks back still sitting on the ground, wiping away the small bit of thirium that dripped down from his nose. “I had feelings for her okay! And I still do! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You feel your cheeks burn alongside with the sickly feeling of nervous butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“If you had feelings for her then why did you tre-”

“It's was confusing okay! I was scared! She's a human!” Richard stops for a moment and glances over at you. His voice sounding a bit more defeated. “You're a human. And I…”

“Have a superiority complex?” Connor spoke up, still stuck in Collins tight grip.

“Connor, it's-” You attempt to speak up but you don’t think he hears you.

At this point, Connor is wriggling to get out of Collins grip. “Let me go!” He demands. “I want to leave.” When Collin finally releases him, Connor walks towards you. He allows his pinky finger to interlock with yours.

“Come on.” He whispers. “Let's get out of here.”

You say nothing but follow along, at a loss for words.

...

You had explained the whole situation with Richard to Connor while you, him and Collin had sat in the kitchen.

“You shouldn't have to live with that creep.” Connor sighs handing you a cup of warm tea.

A half an hour had passed since Connor and Richards scuffle. And you had since explained the whole Richard situation to Connor. He still didn’t seem very pleased. In Connors mind, Richard had used you. Even when you told him you were every part as implicit as Richard, he still saw Richard as the villain.

“Con, it's fine.” You assure him. You reach out your hands to clasp the mug, focusing in on the warm sensation on your fingers that briefly tore you away from the tense energy in the room.

Connor's eyes make their way over to Collin who was sitting beside you at the kitchen counter, idly rubbing your back.

“How are you not mad about this?” Connor shakes his head, handing Collin over his mug of tea. “Wait.” He stops for a minute as he places the mug on the counter, slowly pulling his hands away from the porcelain. “Did you know?”

“Yeah...” Collin sighs, setting his hands on the counter, inching their way towards the tea.

“What the fuck?” Connor sighs shrugging his hand in the air. “Why didn't you tell me?” His brown eyes dart between the two of you.

“Because you'd freak out, disown Richard...” Collin mumbled into his cup as he brought it to his lips.

Connors right hand settled on his forehead as he shook it in dismissal.

“I'm sorry Connor.” You finally spoke up again. “We wanted to tell you but I didn't want to cause any drama or tension or-”

“It's okay.” His hand falls on your shoulder. “It's not your fault, you were the one who got caught up in all of this mess. I should have got you out of here when I had the chance.” He sighs.

Collin began to shake his head. “No!” He demands.

“I'm just saying.” Connors brows lift towards his brother.

“No, no. Absolutely not!” Collin's voice raises slightly.

What were they even talking about? Whatever it was seemed to really stress Collin out.

“What?” You asked. “No to what?”

“Don't even ask.” Collin shakes his head quicker this time as he stands to his feet. Both of his hands fall on your shoulders, standing over you like a protector, staring down Connor.

“We should at least give her the option.” Connor sighs leaning on the counter across from you, a melancholic look on his face.

“Don't do this to me, Connor.” Collin's voice softens as does his hold on your shoulders. “Please.”

Connor's lips become thin and he closes his eyes.

“What? What is it?” You ask again, a worried tone seeping into your voice.

Connor's fingers interlock with yours. “Y/N. We can get you out of here. Out of the city.”

You felt Collin's hands fall from your shoulders all together now. You turn to look at him and see him walk out of the kitchen.

You don't really understand. Obviously, you could leave the city what did he mean? Why was Collin so upset?

“Y/N?”

You look back at Connor.

“Have you ever wanted it to be just humans?”

“What?” You ask, very confused.

“We…” He begins before stopping and correcting himself. “I can help you. You can be with your own kind. Well, if that’s what you want.”

You stay silent for a moment.

“It was selfish for us to keep you here this long.” Connor's voice faults a little. “I'm sorry.”

“What do you mean by just humans?”

_________________________

Chapter 35 - The Light Behind Your Eyes

Content Warning: This chapter has smut.

So the secret was out. The truth about Richard and the truth about Connors out of town ‘business dealings.’

The reason why Connor had been so busy? He was working two jobs. One, his normal, everyday job in youth and community. The other, an underground railroad for helping humans to leave Detroit.

You didn't really know what to think when being offered this opportunity. Should you stay in your nice warm house with your boyfriend's where you knew you would be safe, or did you dare to dream bigger, for freedom, to not have to be escorted everywhere you went. To mingle with your own kind, make your own decisions, live authentically? It was a difficult choice, to say the least.

You had sat with the idea for a while. Collin remained silent, yet very clingy the entire time. His head sat laying on your lap and every so often he would let out a sigh, cursing both of his brothers in his head.

Connor just felt so horrible about everything, he felt like it was all his fault. He didn't want you to be taken advantage of ever again. That's why he brought the idea up. If you decided to stay then wonderful! He could rest easy knowing you were choosing to do so. But if you wanted to leave, well he felt obligated to help you in whatever way necessary.

You had thought about maybe just leaving temporarily - but what if you choose to but couldn’t make it back? What if you didn't want to come back?

You kept asking Connor questions about the whole thing, where would you go? Would you be alone? What was it like out there with the humans?

A settlement he knew of and mostly helped was about a four-hour drive away from where you were. It would be easy enough to get there. The community seemed very close-knit, almost like a family. No Androids knew of the place either. Well except for Connor and some of his ‘associates.’

Connor told you some stories of the people he had helped escape to different settlements. One of the more recent ones was a young lady. She was lost after one of the riots in the city. Connor was lucky enough to get her out of dodge just in time.

“Lucky thing I found her when I did. The poor girl was pregnant.” He shook his head. “She desperately wanted to get out of the city. She couldn’t bear the idea of her child being taken away from her.”

“She's was literally your age.” Connor shivered at the thought of something that awful happening to you. “Emily, her name was.”

“Emily!?” Your eyes smacked open wide as you turn to Connor, slightly startling Collin with your loud exclaim. “What did she look like?” You blurted out. “Did she have red hair? Like ginger, with freckles?!”

Connors brows knit together, curious as to how you guessed so quickly. He held out his hand and a blue-tinted hologram appeared, showing the girl in question.

It was her. Emily. Your Emily!

You whimpered loudly at the image “Oh my God! She's having a baby.” Your eyes darted to Connor.

“Yes.” He said, looking confused.

“That's, she… She was my best friend, for years. She was my only family.” Your shaking hands move to pull the image projected on Connor's hand closer to you. Connor recalled you telling him about her months ago, on your first walk out together.

Collin sat up silently and moved to hold you tight in his arms. At that moment he knew what your decision was going to be.

___

Saturday morning. You had your things packed up to go. Collin had been hovering around you all morning as if he was your shadow. Every so often kissing your knuckles, shoulders and temples, any bit of skin he could. You bit back your lip not to cry. Collin did the same.

“You'll come to visit me right?” You forced a smile as your eyes met with Connor’s.

Connor nodded with a more serious face. “I don't know if we'll be welcome too often but we will try our best.”

You nod, fake smile simmering down a bit.

“Here.” Connor hands you a phone and charger. “Our numbers are on that. If you ever need anything or ever change your mind, we're only a call away.” The phone was an older model but that didn’t matter. You were just relieved that you would be able to communicate with the boys in any shape or form. The settlement must have running electricity or else Connor wouldn’t have given you the charger. At least you’d have that.

“Thank you.” You said, taking the phone and charger from his hands, the skin of each other’s hands yearningly brushing against each other. You pull your hands away to go and place the items in your suitcase.

As you move to zip up the case Collin lets out a sigh and his hand rolls over the top of yours. His solemn eyes almost begging you to change your mind.

“I need to do this.” You whisper to him. Your other hand strokes his cheek. “I need to know what's out there, I need to see Emily.” You place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Can't we just bring her here?” Collin whispers back against your lips.

Connor shakes his head, overhearing Collin. “It's not worth her risk losing that child.” He explains gently.

“Well, we could adopt all of them. I don't mind living with a baby.” Collin attempts to bargain with you both.

“It's not that simple, Collin.” Connor shakes his head, tight-lipped, he understands how his brother feels. He feels the same but he’s also trying to be realistic.

You stroke his cheek. “It's not goodbye forever.”

“Promise?” Collins glossy eyes meet yours.

You kiss his lips again tenderly. “Of course.”

___

After zipping up your suitcase you sigh and look between the brothers. “I suppose I should say goodbye to Richard.”

“He's, at work today.” Connor quickly replies.

“Did you not tell him?”

“No.” He speaks blankly, pulling the suitcase down off of the bed. “He would only try and stop you. Plus, he doesn't know about the whole ‘me smuggling humans out of the city.’ He could destroy the whole operation.”

“Right.” You sigh again.

“I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realise you would have wanted to say goodbye.” Connors brows lift, a worried look crossing his face.

“I mean of course I would have.” You shrugged. “Richard isn’t the evil manipulator you think he is.” Your hand brushes against Connor's arm and then slides down to hold his hand.

“He’s an idiot sure, but I think he’s learning.” You give a small smile before kissing Connors cheek. “Ready?”

___

You took Connors car for your journey. His was self-driving and also a little less inconspicuous than Collins flashy jeep. You, Collin and Connor, had all sat in the back, you lay snuggled between them, trying not to let your hot tears seep out of your eyes as you clutched onto the material of Connors shirt, your face pressed into his chest. Collin was laying against your back, softly playing with your hair and peppering kisses on your shoulders.

Was this a terrible decision? Should you just tell them that you’ve changed your mind so you could all turn back and go home?

Ah god, why was this so hard?

You needed to see Emily again though. You just had to.

After a while, you switched from laying on Connor's chest to Collins. The drive was four hours so at least you got a lot of cuddling time in before.

Connor mentioned that once you got close to the location the three of you would have to get out and walk a bit. The settlement was deep within a forest and even if he could park close to it he wouldn’t, not worth the risk.

When you arrived as close to your destination as the car dared go, it pulled into a parking lot at an abandoned warehouse. There was still a bit of a long walk until your destination. When the car came to a halt the three of you sat in silence for a minute, no one knowing what to say. Connor was the first to move, he sighed and reached for the door. Your hand stopped his before it got to it, however.

He looked at you, head tilted, eyes curious. Had you changed your mind?

Pulling his face towards yours you gave him a soft, drawn-out kiss. You pulled him into it further, exhaling into his mouth a little as he kissed back. His hands slid up your sides, eagerly searching for nothing. When your lips pulled away from Connors you turned to Collin, He was way ahead of you.

His hands clasped around your neck softly pulling you in, his lips burning with passion as they met with yours hungrily nipping and sucking, trying to get as much of you as he could. Connors mouth then meets your neck, his hands travelling down your sides and then across your waist. He tugs at the button of your trousers and then undoes your zipper.

Connors fingers gingerly slip into your underwear and begin to play with you softly. A moan escapes your mouth and echoes into Collins. When Collin notices Connor starting to pleasure you he pulls himself back for a moment to pull his shirt off and throws it into the front seat. Collins licks his lips as he pulls your shirt up too and undoes your bra.

A moan escapes his lips as soon as your breasts are exposed to him, immediately he clasps onto them with his mouth. It so unfair to him that he only got to do this with you once before. Connor remains sucking on your neck and playing with you until Collin gets a little impatient and demands that Connor moves. Connor, slightly annoyed but still understanding that they both had to share you, pulls you on to his lap as he backs against the right side of the car.

Both the androids LEDs flash for a minute and then Collin is pulling your trousers and underwear off.

Connor's hands pull your legs apart gently from behind while Collin dips his head down between them trailing his tongue all over your sensitive area. You whine at the sensation of Collins tongue lapping up your wetness whilst Connor holds you in place, spread open.

Collin's hands move up to wrap around your legs as well, holding your thighs tight against his shoulders.

Connors grip then releases on your legs, his hands move up your body, one cupping your breast and another holding your jaw. He allows the thumb on the hand holding your breast to rub circles on your nipple, his thumb on his other hand pulls down on your lip before he inserts it into your mouth. You suck down hard around his thumb tongue licking a circle around it as you gasp.

Collin slips a finger inside of you and you begin to squirm, a needy whine comes from your lips. Collin moans along with you as his fingers dive in once again.

Both of the boys LEDs flash in communication and Collin is now on his knees, pulling your hips up to his. He levels himself with a shaky breath to allow himself to enter into you, slowly.

Connor watches for a brief minute, his lip stuck between his perfect teeth before he reaches his hand down again to play with your clit.

Collin grunts and ruts his hips against you as you moan from the friction, his fingertips digging into your thighs as his slow but heavy pace continues.

You feel Connor push you up slightly as you notice the click of his belt being undone, his freshly exposed erection now being pressed against your back causes your whimpers to become louder. You manage to tilt your head back to look up at Connor, both of you briefly making eye contact before Collin pulls you toward himself again, this time flipping you over to ride you from behind. Almost too quickly he pushes his dick into you again, his eagerness picking up.

After the initial shock, you realise you now have more access to Connor. Without much of a second thought, you move your hands down to his twitching cock, giving it a brief but gentle tug, you then place lips around the head and hum, the vibration of which has Connor melting into your touch.

His hands tangle their way into your hair as you move your mouth around him fully, He swears softly along with singing your name in praise as your mouth works on him. You start to struggle to keep your pace up with Connor as Collin speeds up, hips smashing against yours so relentlessly that you feel your about to topple over.

He must have sensed it because he then grabs your waist and pulls you up, breaking you away from Connor temporarily, he’s not thinking about it at the moment. He’s just chasing his ending, the smacking noises would almost be embarrassing if you weren’t so dazed out with lust.

Pressed fully into Collins frame with his mouth latched on to your neck he echoes out a mixture of mumbling and growling as he finished hot inside of you. He holds you tight against him as he comes down, his simulated breathing so loud against your ear you almost want to faint from how steamy it was.

When Collins grip loosens he presses a soft kiss on your shoulder and then falls back onto the seat. Before you could follow suit Connors gentle hands guide you towards him. Connor turns you around and presses you down on to his lap, on to his cock. You bite your lip as you slide down on it, feeling the beautiful stretch once again.

Connor kisses your back as you adjust to him before slowly moving your hips to bounce up and down on his cock.

You let him do most of the work at the start as you are still recovering from Collin but the need to chase your orgasm starts to grow again. You help Connor with the pace, speeding up a little as you bounce with his hands. A blissed-out Collin watches you both with a smirk before reaching out his hand to hold one of yours. You instinctively grab on to his hand but it topples your balance a little. Connor's hands are then firmly placed on your back keeping you in the right place as he bobs your body to a pace you could both enjoy.

You squeeze tightly on Collin's hand as your orgasm begins to build, Connor guiding you towards it so gracefully that it almost takes you by surprise when that wave of rapture washes over you. Connor meets his end soon after as well, he must have been holding it back until you were finished. Which made sense as Connor was always so eager to please.

Your body lays flat against Connor's chest for a brief moment until you slowly move off of his dick, dark blue liquid now leaking out from between your shaking thighs. If you were your regular self you would have been a bit more careful as to not stain the seats of Connors car but you were too dazed.

Collin pulls you towards him, wrapping his arms around you selfishly. You peer over your shoulder at Connor before then turn to face him and pull him into an embrace against your bare chest.

You three stay like this for a while until you gathered your thoughts back into order.

Luckily Connor had wet wipes and tissues in his car so at least you had a bit of a clean-up before you had to set out again. You hoped the boys would be true to their word and come visit you sometimes, maybe recreate your steamy little car date.

It wasn’t goodbye forever you reminded yourself.

After the three of you got dressed, you sat out on your journey into the forest. At least it was a decent enough day. It wasn’t too cold nor too warm, just average. You walked hand in hand with both boys, not wanting to let go of either of them for even a split second. Connor carried the case of all your earthly belongings in his other hand.

“You’ll be safe here.” Connor promised you when he could sense your fears creeping up again. “Everyone there is very nice. They will treat you like family.”

You nodded, trying to be a bit more positive you brightened up a tad. “It’ll be nice to meet everyone.”

“If anyone gives you shit, you let me know and I’ll personally come by and whoop their ass.” Collin grunted, seeming a little too serious. His demeanour reminding you of the Collin you had first met when you were newly adopted, not the Collin you knew now. Closed off, cold.

“Collin…” Connor warns him, not taking too kindly to the idea of Collin coming and disrupting the flow of the humans. They left the city to get away from androids not to be bullied by new ones.

“Well, I’m just trying to protect her.” Collin bit back in defence.

“So am I, That’s why we’re bringing her here.” Connor retorts calmly as he rubs his thumb over your knuckle.

Collin goes quiet again. You don’t really know what to say anymore and neither does Connor so the three of you continue your journey in somewhat of an awkward silence. Your guilt started building up again, Collin had been hurt a lot in the past that much was clear. He had been starting to heal, was you leaving him now going to send him back to his old ways? You’d have to ask Connor to keep an extra eye out for him when they got back.

You also worried that Collin may start to resent Connor for this whole situation. And God only knows what this will do with their relationship with Richard.

And Richard…

He apologised.

He apologised and you never even got the chance to reply. You didn’t ever want to admit it but you still obviously had feelings for him. You wondered if you’d ever see him again. If he was honest, would he have changed? Would things have been different?

He’d be too proud to cry or even say sorry if it wasn’t true, right? Was it another manipulation tactic? You guessed you’d never know really.

After a long walk, you three had reached the settlement. It was a small scrappy looking ‘village’ filled with shacks made out of wood and other recycled materials, rusty abandoned vehicles like buses re-made into little houses and strings of lights hanging above head, being powered up by decrepit looking generators.

Around the settlement was a chain-link fence full of holes some of which had been covered up but not very well.

The people within the settlement all stopped and stared as the three of you entered, their eyes scanning closely, it was a little unnerving at first as they gathered around in curiosity.

“Greetings stranger,” An old man with a snow white beard, hobbled with a walking stick and smiled at Connor. “Is this the human girl?”

“Hello, again Danny Connor hugged the man who held out his arms to the android. “Yes, this is Y/N.”

“Welcome to the Family Y/N.” The old mans face wrinkles as he smiled and held out his hand to shake with yours.

You took his hand in a shake and the man began to speak again, “Life here ain’t glamourous, a lot of hard work but were free. And we look after each other here.”

You looked around to notice the other humans standing around, smiling and seeming a lot more welcoming now that they knew who, or more specifically, what you were.

You looked at all the unfamiliar faces, some were covered in dirt while others were quite clean. Their clothes all seemed worn, ripped and or sewn back together again. Connor had sometimes brought them new items and food from the city but they mostly preferred doing things on their own, recycling items, growing their own food. They even had some animals. You noticed a few chickens roaming around in the middle of the settlement.

You smiled looking around at all the people nodding to them as they did the same, that was until a shrill voice called out your name.

Turning quickly you saw her. “Emily!”

You ran to each other in an embrace, holding on to her for dear life as tears streamed down from both of your eyes, when you both finally let go you move back slightly with your hand over your heart as you take note of her stomach.

“Emily!” You repeat as your hand reaches out for a feel for the baby.

“It’s a long story” she laughs wiping away a tear. “Come on.” She guides you to sit on one of the logs by a small fire. “We have so much catching up to do.”

————————–

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arcadialedger · 4 years

Text

Please note that I am most likely leaving this platform. I am done being abused. But first? We need to have a discussion. A discussion about hate and bullying in fandom.

All online-- I encourage you to read my story below. Reblog and spread awareness. The Dragon Prince fandom especially -- I implore you read my words, every single one of them. The short of it is that I am done.

This all began with losing and being blocked by a friend because I shared something they disagreed with. I don’t care what you feel about my initial reaction to this (which I’ll explain below) -- I’ve apologized for not handling the situation correctly. But I will not be shamed for speaking my mind and standing up for myself.

Because no human being deserves to go through what I have endured since last summer.

Following the “callout” post made about me by one of, if not the largest blogs in this fandom, I received hundreds of threats, harassment messages, and death threats. Messages and posts telling me to kill myself were also prominent, on a multiple times a week basis for awhile.

Messages from people who were well aware I have struggled with being suicidal. Due to one of their favorite Dragon Prince blogs speaking out against me, they thought it was okay to suicide bait me.

And it worked. I already struggle with hating myself, am already insecure, and being flooded with these comments which, while I made mistakes, did nothing to deserve, drove me to try and take my own life after years of progress in my mental health.

Mind you, this is like a 200 follower to 4k follower power dynamic. Which yes, plays a role-- because when you have a large following and influence, you have power. Yet the person behind this had the gall to claim Tumblr clout isn’t real.

People blocking and condemning others instantly at your word? Is power. If people read your words and are influenced, or have their minds changed, or buy or don’t buy something, etc.-- you are an influencer. You have power. And when you’re one of the largest blogs in a fandom, you have a LOT of power.

So take responsibility.

I was hurt because I lost a friend who I had chatted with for months, did a podcast with, and was generally not only one of my favorite blogs but the center of my experience in the Dragon Prince. I may not have been perfect in my words, but when I was asked why I was quiet/ inactive, I explained how I was hurting, anonymously. I was understandably in pain and upset. I had been cut off for just having a different opinion on a matter, for thinking differently. Even though it was within their rights to block and do so, it felt wrong and it weighed on me.

Is that such a crime?

The callout post and previously described abuse followed, lasting for months until later in the year (this began in June, or around then). It also included screenshots of tweets, when this user does not have Tumblr, and they have stated to have screenshots stored up on their computer of my various posts and interactions. This is creepy behavior, and freaked me out. I felt like I was being stalked, “evidence” being filed away for the very purpose of being used against me.

I eventually talked things out with the blog per recommendation of my therapist, and thought all would be fine. For a little while, it was. I largely stayed off of Tumblr to heal. Once in awhile I would have a rough, tearful night because something reminded me of what I lost, but I would make it through. Overall, I was making progress.

Then? My Twitter got hacked by one of the people sending me hate. For what had turned out to be much. And after they tweeted some purposefully incriminating and bigoted things to make me look bad, I came home from a weekend in the mountains to a shitstorm.

Twitter has a love hate relationship for me and I barely opened the app unless actively chatting with a friend. So when I saw 700+ notifications, I was surprised. It had never happened before.

I began to scroll through, and when I saw what had happened, I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

I had lost over half of my followers and a solid 60% of previous Twitter mutuals had blocked me. But worst of all, I had hundreds of hate tweets directed at me replying to the hackers tweets. Messages had been sent in DMs and accounts blocked, followed, and unfollowed as well.

If you have never felt that loss of agency-- that sickening feeling of words you never said next to your profile-- be glad. Because it is traumatic. I value my words. I value what I have to say. And having that taken from me was worse than anything I had been through here on Tumblr, outside of the suicide baiting (the most direct attack to me and my emotions/ insecurities throughout this entire ordeal). Further, this hacker had clearly stalked my tweets based on some of their comments.

Hundreds of tweets bashing me, calling me aphobic slurs (knowing I am asexual mind you, as it was in my bio), making fun of my appearance and targeting all of the insecurities which lead to my first suicide attempt in high school, and taking/ editing images of my face and mocking them. This all culminated in a doxing threat-- a doxing threat which made me feel unsafe on a campus I had already been sexually assaulted on. I was once again, after starting the healing process, thrusted back into the darkest time of my life and spiraled into anxiety and depression. I cried a lot overwhelmed by it all, had difficulty sleeping, and felt sick. I started fall semester and couldn’t concentrate on school. I was a mess.

I had once again been condemned, this time for something I had no part in. I tried to example what happened but nobody listened. I had been hung without trial. People were understandably confused, and my entire reputation on the platform, and my page, became a mess of lies, misunderstandings, and more.

If you don’t know the feeling of already hating yourself and being insecure, and having these beliefs reinforced and spread by hundreds publicly across the internet? Of already feeling lonely and unwanted and having the one space you thought you had taken from you? Consider yourself lucky.

I had a lot of voice actors and creators following me-- accounts I interacted and greatly cherished my mutual with. A handful of them unfollowed, understandably. This online hate mob was sending messages to people demanding they unfollow me, including some of these creators. They had no idea what to make of this mess or what was real and true and just didn’t want to deal with it. Most of the others just stopped interacting with me. @aaronwaltke (tagging so those who don’t follow already click and do so, because he is absolutely fantastic-- he’s a writer for ToA) who had followed me on the platform, graciously wished me peace with the entire situation after I checked to make sure he had not been subjected to messages or hate, either from my hacker or other accounts. His was the greatest compassion I got on Twitter, before I ultimately ended up just having to delete.

I lost podcast deals because of this with Adrian Petriw, Aaron Ehasz, and Justin Richmond. I do not blame them one bit and would have done the same in the confusion not wanting to get dragged into anything.

Only to have one of the friends I lost who helped start this interview these very people on their own podcasts. A slap in the face. A zine I had bought to support them came to my door, with the front page proclaiming to “spread a narrative of love.”

I was never granted that chance. That compassion. I had the vultures sent after me with no mercy. And anyone who has been through online abuse and systemic harassment knows just how much it feels like they’re slowly but surely picking at your flesh ( a metaphor I used in one of my old, since deleted posts discussing the situation, and still find accurate), wearing you down until you have no strength left.

Make no mistake, my story is not a one off situation. Many share the same tale of abuse and being driven off of platforms that once gave them great joy. These attacks are coordinated, systemic, and common hobby for these people-- who largely claim to be loving and accepting of all. They are a cyberbullying phenomenon which has risen with the presence of fandom on the internet. And I want to make clear, with current discussions of “cancel culture”, I mean nothing political in that statement. Some might call my experience cancel culture, but I don’t.

It’s just bullying. It’s just hate. These people get off on ruining people’s lives.

And my life was greatly set back and ruined. I had a stain on my past in fandom I could never be rid of. I had to shut down my podcast, took time off of all social media, and most of what I had built, most of my growth, was taken from me while those who incited and/ or spread hate thrived and continued to grow and find success. That was the greatest sting of all.

I asked the one previous friend who hadn’t blocked me, but had just stopped interacting with me (which I understood and respected, and also greatly respected her perspective, help, and support though this situation in which she largely unfortunately ended up in the middle) for help after explaining everything, and got nothing. They didn’t seem to care, and just blocked me on all platforms. Once in awhile, I would find I was cut off from yet another old friend, or a blog that I had never interacted with before but clicked into, interested. It hurt being cut off, unable to fully interact with the fandom, but I could move on.

That pain would never go away, but I made clear I did not blame them for the actions of those who abused, harassed, and threatened me. I also made it clear they did not owe me anything, including unblocking.

I just wanted to move on peacefully, but those with the power to enable that did not wish to help. I slowly, when I felt ready, began to be more active on Tumblr again, and once again the hate started up.

Sometimes when I was hurting, I expressed my pain and loss to my followers just to reach out, because I was sad. I had no idea how to rebuild from all that had happened. This got me more hate an accusations of emotional manipulation and gaslighting. I had no idea what to do, and got trapped in a cycle of needing to talk about it, and getting hate and backlash, but not knowing where else I could turn.

My doxer came back into my asks, ultimately making me switch schools, and refueled the drama. Speaking up about this got me more backlash-- mostly accounts reblogging (one with tags saying “fuck you”, despite not knowing the full story, and commenting and then blocking me so I could do nothing to respond or get it off of my page. I deleted all posts of the matter, as requested by these people (who validly pointed out they were in the main fandom tags, which I hadn’t thought of and understood), and hoped to move on.

But it hasn’t stopped. I have been beaten down and emotionally bruised for months. I have had my life and safety threatened, my education and by extension life path altered, and lost work (podcast) opportunities due to this-- alongside the irreversible emotional damage from trauma and abuse. My mental health issues and insecurities-- which I have been very open about to destigmatize the subjects and encourage conversation-- were actively targeted to inflict the most pain possible.

And I can’t even talk about it, without enduring more hate and accusations of “playing the victim”.

Death threats, suicide baiting, doxing, months of bullying and harassment to the most vile degree, which a lot of these people don’t know about because they don’t even bother to read my words. Yet I’m playing the victim.

And the accusations of bigotry and being hateful hurt, because it couldn’t be further from what is in my heart. I believing in love and acceptance of all. I don’t know how many are religious here, but I found God after my first suicide attempt and that is what his word has taught me.

I’ve been through too much in life to tolerate this, for lack of a more eloquent term, bullshit. I know what abuse and victim blaming looks like when I see it. And in my 20 years of life, I have gone through too much: constant ridicule and bullying, suicide attempts, sexual assault, major spinal surgery, to just be stomped over and not stand up for my right to basis human decency.

I refuse to put up with this, so unless I get an apology and some semblance of justice for everything I have been through, I am leaving. I will not participate in a space run by hate and toxicity. I will never claim to be perfect, and I have apologized for my mistakes and wrongdoings. Now, hold those who did this accountable. If you’re reading this you know very well who it was, and I am not naming them for those who don’t. Because at the end of the day I still send nothing but love and wish no ill will towards them.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t expect accountability of one of the greatest influencers in the fandom for their complacency in abuse, threats, suicide baiting, and and absolute ruining of my life and online experience. They enabled this and were well aware they had the power to stop it-- to ask their followers to stop-- and did nothing. They didn’t care-- about a human’s life and well being.

@dragonprinceofficial, are you aware that this is what many of the fans of your show, which preaches love and an end to the cycle of vengeance, do to others? That this is happening in your space? If you stand at all by the values you preach, condemn it. @staffTumblr/ @supportTumblr-- shame on you for allowing this abuse to happen and ignoring my reports. Shame on you for permitting these people to operate in your platform and for being okay with hosting hate. People have been driven to suicide on your website-- I am one of the lucky ones.

If you care at all about humanity and stand against this behavior, reblog and spread awareness. Share my story so I may not happen to anyone else. Tag @dragonprinceofficial until they notice and speak out.

This is my story, and so many others. Make sure it doesn’t happen ever again. No human being deserves to be treated how I was. Everyone deserves compassion, decency, and respect. And everyone deserves a place in fandom. Do better. If you want to reach out to me DMs are open, as well as my email, which is attached to my account. Until this change happens and I am given the support/ help needed to safely function on this platform, this blog will not be active outside of that.

Thank you all of the many accounts who have supported me, and I am working on getting back to all who have reached out! Your love means the world. You know who you are, and I don’t want to tag in case people come after you for showing me kindness. I am sorry if this is goodbye, to all that have enjoyed my blog. I enjoyed it for a long time too. I loved sharing my passion for stories, culture, having a space where I could analyze and discuss my favorite things. I loved getting to share what I had to offer with the world, having fun and posting jokes with my unique sense of humor. I loved interacting with intelligent people/ fellow fans and discussing my favorite stories, offering each other new insights and growing together. I loved the many, many kind and wonderful people who reached out to me in a variety of ways and provided support and friendship.

In the end, it just isn’t worth all of this pain and trauma, and I know when to put my foot down. I don’t want pity, I don’t want apologizes, and I’m not a martyr. I just want my story to make a difference-- to spur positive change in fandom culture/ spaces. I will be tagging all fandoms in which I have seen this kind of abuse present as well, to reach as many as possible.

Be safe, and be kind.

- The Arcadia Ledger/ Ryn/ Katie, signing off.

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supercorp-hosie · 3 years

Text

My thoughts for Legacies 315:

1) for the Star Wars, I have no knowledge about it, I saw some parallels of characters after the episode, it seems accurate, but I still have no idea why Hope’s characters in it didn’t even have a backstory or name lmao. I’m just overall unfazed;

2) the background of the trio and Alaric! There are like so much to address and I don’t know how to fully share my thoughts in-depth organisedly. I’ll try;

3) facts first: so it’s canon that Lizzie’s mental problem is diagnosed at earliest 11, but specific time unknown;

4) Jed activated his curse earliest at 11, since Lizzie had a crush on him for two weeks. I mean who would’ve thought that, common headcannons seem to incline on Josie x Jed tho😂. That just doesn’t randomly cross my mind🤣. Anyway, it doesn’t deny that Jed and Josie could be a thing too, since the twins often have the tendency to crush on the same person? I’m feeling like 60% of the time? I mean they obviously have the same preferences for LI, bad girl or bad boy type, anyone? Rafael, Sebastian, Jed, Jade, Penelope, Hope, Finch. They kind of have this thing with new people to their lives, for Josie, Rafael, Finch, Jade(it’s arguable but I think people tend to have a whole new lens when reconnecting with a disappeared person in your life for years when you’re very young. The perspectives are not the same, like you’re meeting a new person especially you don’t really know them before);

5) especially Lizzie, she definitely has a thing for new people that seems like bad boy/girl. I emphasised on the new people here bc I don’t think ethan is exactly that type, it’s just how Lizzie imagine him to be in that AU. Raf, Sebastian, Ethan....(maybe Jed was new when she crushed on him too, who knows), more specifically, it’s Strangers to Lovers trope for her romance department, so she can imagine as much as she wants and have the wildest dreams (bgm intended). Maybe Josie’s it’s not as much like this considering we don’t know how Posie happened, and with Hope her crush is canon when she was 12, but we don’t know how long exactly the crush was and when did it started, I just have to count that not being new person into her life. But I do get that why Josie said Lizzie always get the boy/girl Josie crushed on too, mostly they have the same type and preferences. Though they can randomly blurt out characters that we all don’t even know as more solid examples.;

6) Alaric and the fact of him being quite an absent father since the twins were 11 is solid canon. I understand the need to care for Hope because the world can’t afford a tribrid went uncared for and went around killing people, but still, the different perspectives of Hope and Lizzie to Alaric are very sad. To think that your father would betray you for another child, is very sad, even for Lizzie, the more dramatic one. So I understand that Caroline wasn’t there for the twins either, another absent parent. About the mother figure being diminished here, I’ll address it in another point. What’s left for Lizzie? Josie.

7) So basically Josie had to handle herself and Lizzie’s all by her own? That’s very hard! My BFF is bipolar, we are not living together, but before, my whole situation [for being in love with her + her situation] had really been hard for me too. I couldn’t imagine what’s it’s really like for Josie. (Another point that I need to address is the real mental problem that Lizzie has) Sure Alaric might not always be absent, but the intensity of Lizzie’s perspective begs to differ. Josie had to understand what is Bipolar at a very young age; had to be there for Lizzie when she had her outburst; had to be the one constantly check on Lizzie whether she had taken her meds; had to digest the emotion impacts from Lizzie after the outburst; had to understand how Lizzie functioned when she was down. None of that are easy, and there’s no one there to ask of what Josie really feels. How Josie pent out? What does she need? Josie might feel the need to be not wanting things and always be good so that she can get the love from Alaric (I remember in season 1, Josie felt the need to lose the game to get on Alaric good side) . So she just started to suppress her voice and her needs, because Lizzie need them the most. Over time or years of suppressing in front of her dearest family, she most likely felt unneeded by her parents, and forgettable to her parents(the girl that’s so quiet that her parents forget about her, the girl that Penelope won’t fight for anymore). She needed to feel needed, so she just let Lizzie take all of her, from whom she felt needed the most. So all of these from Josie’s perspectives, it started a vicious cycle for the twins. And leads to how the twins dynamics and how Josie are in present days. But her problem was never solved, they just accumulated day by day, year by year, leaving the good and dark side from Josie being so separated and unbalanced. The inner turmoil is always there. These lead to the extreme polarity of Josie’s good and bad side. When she’s doing bad, Josie would be especially aggressive than she needed to be because that’s an instinct to compensate the lack of action before. After long suppression, once being released, the instinct would be stronger than usual and harder to get it under control. Under the influence of dark magic, Dark Josie felt like another personality inside Josie here to take over the whole Josie and protect their interests that true Josie are neglecting. Kind of like dissociative identity disorder but not really it?? It’s just an understanding that I’ve been wanting to express, but so hard to organise it, because it’s so complex. By this understanding, I do still think that Josie should still be held accountable for her actions, even when dark magic was influencing her, like even people with mental health illness should be instituted and lost their freedom. I just think that it’s not fair to think she’s straight up very evil and do nothing good for people. It’s not like she’s being dark for no reason at all. This just mean that the dog that doesn’t bark can be more harmful than people think. These doesn’t mean that when Josie goes dark, she doesn’t deserve any leniency at all while holding her accountable. (And it’s not like she’s not beating herself up for most of the things she had done) Oh and sure, Josie should do the healthy way of voicing out these needs and all, to encourage a healthy dynamics between them like she’s the only healthy one between them, but still the problem is, they both lack the environment and guidance to make a healthy working relationship between themselves. How could they know what is healthy when the environment was already lack thereof.

8) Reading Lizzie’s diaries is bad, I understand, because you literally need to understand what leads to what, to gain control when your life is a chaos, but still. It’s even worse when you have that need to confide in another person to get things out wrongly. (I was having a phone call during the diary sharing review, but this is what I vaguely get) a) Josie is confiding the contents very specifically to another person that Hope can somehow reconstruct a sequel to it? b) Josie chose the wrong place to confide it since when she gets emotional, people can probably hear what was shared. At least from what I guess I got, it isn’t stated that she spread it to the whole school nor it was spread to the whole, even if that’s the case, it may not be on purpose, and she chose the wrong person to confide in. Like about the reveal in 112, she made up that Hope talking bad about Lizzie to the whole school, but it doesn’t mean that she spread it nor the whole school actually knows. Another case is, even if the school knows, it could easily be known by any passerby to Lizzie outburst and spread in the school. From what we saw from 101, the kitchen is a public space, the utensils and cutleries breaking should be very alarming, and there are students with intensified senses in the school. By that fact itself, it doesn’t really help Lizzie in being discreet of her illness. Still, sharing your sister’s diaries after reading it is really bad. But I do get that, sometimes you really need to talk to someone that know some of the situation but don’t really know the person in question to recalibrate yourself. But that person have to be like the dead end of all school gossip but not close to Lizzie, so it can do no harm (because he/she/they literally have no use to talk to someone with all these, usually there’s this no name policy, but with Lizzie being her sister, it’s useless hiding, maybe) when you disclose something related to her pertaining your own issues. Josie should apologise for sharing Lizzie diaries, even if Hope was not meant to know that, despite her werewolf hearing. For the reading part, did we get the apology tho? I guess we had? If negative, apologies needed.;

9) From Lizzie perspective, we can see her does Josie wrong but didn’t apologise either. Like Lizzie being princess but Josie being her android, personalised valet? It just showed that during that period of time(specifically from when until when tho, that’s a question), after what Josie had been enduring, taking care of her, Lizzie thought of herself being princess but didn’t actually think Josie as her equal? Like how the Android was programmed to bow to Lizzie? That’s just the habit of the twins dynamic showing, also partly Josie mistake, but Josie does deserves to be perceived as more than that, even when she’s derogatory to herself, Lizzie should uphold that for her. Their dynamics is just sad because it’s not entirely the twins fault, it’s also due to the absent parents in the household, they didn’t know better, they can only depend on each other. They’re orphaned like Hope in a way when their parents are still present. Even though they have privileges as Alaric’s daughters, but that doesn’t help with their real situation. This is just a perfect example of how your family shaped you, but we can still fight to shape ourselves after the power that our parents have over us gradually diminished, like how they’re starting to shape themselves more now as they’re coming to age.

10) What really warms me from the Android situation, despite Josie feeling like she’s being degraded the whole time, a subject to Lizzie, is that from how Josie is the combination of two Androids, also shows that how Lizzie actually looked up to Josie. Maybe it’s not addressed, but I see that. For Lizzie, Josie can really do so much things for her, take care of her so closely that Lizzie can count Josie as her personal valet. Derogatory, yes, but that place is also very important to prince and princess, bc they can literally do nothing to take care of their daily lives themselves well, like Merlin for Arthur (I mean the actions, not the presumably romantic relationship). Without Merlin, Arthur life is a mess! And the knowledge for Android part, it means that in Lizzie’s mind, Josie actually is like the person who knows everything😂 usually that figure should be our parents😭, but for Lizzie, it’s Josie, like she knows the answer to all. It’s sad and warming at the same time. Just more appreciation will do! And the fact that the special sword that they’re finding the whole time was in Josie’s thigh, just show how the trust that Lizzie had in Josie, not even their parents can triumph it, because Josie was the one being there the whole time. So they really deserves each other despite all the shitty things they have done to each other.

11) about Lizzie mental illness, I was recommended a post informing people about how Legacies fucked up Lizzie’s illness. After my own research, I do agree with the OP, I think that Lizzie situation is more like borderline personality disorder rather than bipolar, but that doesn’t make the whole situation easy. I can provide the table I made the next time regarding that.

12) Hope being Lizzie’s villain is really fitting, lmao, the intensity of Alaric care for Hope is so much that even Lizzie thought that Alaric would betray the twins for Hope.

13) I like Hope’s look. Josie being the Android that malfunction sometimes is funny too, especially when Josie is angry the whole time, cuz it’s infuriating too🤣🤣

14) Hope and Josie during Lethan kiss is me. How they’re totally in the same team when Lizzie being like that? Hosie are both wary of their characters and backstory? Hosie rights. Hhhhhh, oh Hope might be jealous of Ethan😂 Hizzie rights.

15) Another Hizzie rights, Hope wrote a sequel to Lizzie fanfic. And..... is Hope officially a nerd too???? I can’t! Hhhhh but maybe not, or else Hope would have known who she was.

16) Lizzie says, maybe deep down I still feel that you’re the chosen one (IN HER OWN STORY)

17) Younger Hope kind of break my heart more. It’s so sad😭😭 how she’s in denial of their parents death, and blame it on herself.....no baby. How Hope just have to tell herself all that again. And about Hope being scavenger, I think it’s fitting too. Her life, like the twins, is in pieces too. She had to pick them up herself, and build a world where her heart and hope can rest safely, and that just make her not mad at Josie burning down her room gayer. She was so closed up to herself that her room is like another world for her. So forgiving Josie just because of her crush, is like Josie and her crush on Hope meant the world to her???? Hosie rights! Anyway, Josie still messed up with that.

18) Having Younger Hope saying those things to Josie, oh my heart! Josie is a protector for Hope! Hosie rights! And Hope knowing the truth to stop Lord Marshall! Malivore, and Josie just stop talking because she doesn’t want to encourage Hope to die😍😍 Younger Hope actually wants to be best friends with the twins!!!!

19) Hope literally just stop growing taller after 12/13 like I did, is fact! And I’m comforted by that, sorry not sorry, lmao!

20) For real I don’t understand why Hope is suddenly full tribrid at the end. When she fights with Malivore.

21) The gun fight and sword fight is so weird! It’s like the gunners don’t know how to shoot at all, like they’re in slow motion, difficultly level easy to the audience, it’s so fake. I’m for Hope being badass, but it seems like the show doesn’t know how to portray a good fight scene. The sword fight is like in slow motion. And if Hope is to combine magic with sword fighting, she should combine them more. I don’t feel she’s badass at all, cuz it’s literally level easy😑

22) Star Wars AU have brought up so many childhood unresolved for the trio to understand each other more and be a better team. I love them ended up being all supportive and the panda promise🤣🤣 I love that the twins just agree not to let Hope die like that. But they’re like promise that a little later than Cleo and Landon? My team Sowanby! Applause to Handon, but please don’t be together again! Strike three, no is no!

23) for MG, Jed, Kaleb, they really need to make up with each other, I’m glad that they finally made it. And Kaleb being jealous of Methan? Lmao! And MG didn’t even say Ethan name? I love Maleb bonding, and MG never left his man behind!! Another things is, what’s wrong with those boys fighting scenes? We saw them throwing valuables to distract the monster again?! What if the keys are damaged? How are you going to go home? Oh and Jed being useful!

24) Jed last name is Tien, 田/填 in Chinese, I’ve shared enough in my other post. But still WE DONT ACTUALLY HAVE JED FIRST NAME! Give us that!

25) Still, I don’t understand how the wendigo is not dead yet. And how come it’s defeated by fire this time??

26) I don’t quite actually know what’s happening with Dorian. Is he okay? I bet he is, so Emma is coming back, right? Based off what the conversation is? We need Emma, really.

27) regarding Emma, is the lack of mother figure that I want to address when stating the twins dynamic. I don’t actually know a lot from TVD or TO, I just happen to know some general things and snippets from edits. But I know Hayley’s words before she dies, like “I’m not going to teach my daughter it’s okay to let people she loves die” and paint art, have at least one epic love? But for real, in legacies, all I get for Hayley is 103, Josie paying her respects, but none other than that. It’s all Klaus. I believe that Hayley is an important figure to Hope too. But she’s not mentioned enough, it’s kind of erasing her impact on Hope?? Like Caroline too, we get her phone calls, the twins trip to Europe to treat their problems off-screen, the letter for Lizzie in 302, the recommendation for Lizzie to go to the witch retreat, but not vetted by Alaric.....yes she get all these and Jo Laughlin being there in 106 (I cried so hard). But still the mother figure is still being minimised. Like in Lizzie’s fanfic there’s never a place for Caroline? How surreal? It doesn’t make sense. (I understand the actress is just not returning). But still these doesn’t change the fact that the show is lacking a mother figure as a whole. Emma should be that.

28) Clarke!!! Like it’s predictable! But what’s unpredictable is that he went straight to shower🤣🤣🤣 I love his snarkiness! Clarke meeting Hope half naked! Holarke! Hhhhhh

I’m too tired, sharing this episodes thoughts is exhausting me. There must be something I left out, please feel free to remind me!

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best-underrated-anime · 6 months

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Best Underrated Anime Group I Round 3: #I4 vs #I7

#I4: Colorblind witch meets her granny’s friends by time travel

#I7: Older brother plays catch-up with his younger sibling

Details and poll under the cut!

#I4: Iroduku: The World in Colors

youtube

Summary:

Despite the kaleidoscopic magic ingrained in everyday life, Hitomi Tsukishiro's monochrome world is deprived of emotion and feeling. On a night as black and white as any other, amidst the fireworks spreading across the sky, Hitomi's grandmother Kohaku conjures a spell, for which she has been harnessing the moon's light for 60 years, to send Hitomi back in time to the year 2018 when Kohaku was in high school.

Hitomi's mission seems unclear, but her grandmother assures her that she will know when she gets there. Following a trip through time aboard a train driven by a strange yellow creature, Hitomi finds herself in stoic artist Yuito Aoi's room, and his drawings flood her world with color. What is Hitomi's purpose there, and why do Yuito's drawings return such breathtaking color to her drab world?

Propaganda:

It’s the kind of show I only watched once, but it stayed with me to this day. It has a unique story that, despite having supernatural elements, feels grounded in human emotions the most. A rare but solid example of magical realism.

The premise is so original, yet very easy to grasp from a start. The time-travel and magic simply lay a groundwork for the story to carry on. If you were ever frustrated by how in supernatural shows there isn’t enough time to explore characters’ emotional depth bc plot, then this anime will be a delightful breather for you. Because the whole show is about the main character’s healing process, learning to overcome her fears, opening up to others… It’s a journey of a lonely, broken person who finds meaning to her life in a distant timeline. And it’s wonderful and painful on all levels.

The visuals, animation, background art are all stunning. Usage of colour is meaningful, to portray heroine’s colourblindess with proper weight. The show isn’t black/white for the viewers, but when she sees colours, they truly make them shine. Soundtrack wise, ending song is heartbreakingly beautiful and encapsulates the feeling of the whole series perfectly.

TL;DR: It's magical but not intense. Sad but comforting.

Trigger Warnings: Not stated.

#I7: Space Brothers (Uchuu Kyoudai)

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Summary:

On a fateful summer night in 2006, Mutta Nanba and his younger brother Hibito witness what they believe to be a UFO flying toward the Moon. This impressing and unusual phenomenon leads both siblings vowing to become astronauts, with Hibito aiming for the Moon and Mutta, convinced that the eldest brother has to be one step ahead, for Mars.

Now an adult, life hasn't turned out how Mutta had pictured it: he is diligently working in an automotive company, whereas Hibito is on his way to be the very first Japanese man to step on the Moon. However, after losing his job, Mutta is presented with an unexpected opportunity to catch up to his younger brother when the Japanese Aerospace Exploration Agency, commonly known as JAXA, accepts his application to participate in the next astronaut selection. Despite self-doubts about his prospects, Mutta is unwilling to waste this chance of a lifetime, and thus embarks on an ambitious journey to fulfill the promise made 19 years ago.

Propaganda:

Have you ever wanted to see adults pursue their dreams in anime, even those they abandoned along the way? Do you enjoy space or the arduous process to become an astronaut? Do you like characters being so well-rounded while still being positive even if they fail? Well, this series is exactly that, but with a touch more wholesomeness. Ranging from comedic moments to heartfelt revelations, this series feels so grounded in reality while still having that air of positivity around it, it just motivates you to follow any dream you might currently have. It is a long journey, almost 100 episodes, but it uses it well to flesh out not only the main pair, but many of the side characters, each coming from different backgrounds. A very character driven story that sometimes doesn’t shy in mentioning the risks of space exploration, but also presents us with the marvel and importance of it.

Trigger Warnings: Discussion of possible death. It’s not in depth, but there were moments where they did discuss the possibility of death since it has a high risk of happening in space.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

#anime #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 3 #tournament polls #irodoku: the world in colors #irodoku #space brothers #uchuu kyoudai #group i

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“To understand what friendship between women was, we must first understand what it was not. Before turning to the ways in which female friendship illustrated the play of the Victorian gender system, we must develop grounds for distinguishing it from other relationships between women. This is a detour, for the subject of this chapter is female friendship; erotic desire and marriage between women are the focus of subsequent sections. But friendship, erotic infatuation, and female marriage have so often been conflated, and women’s relationships so commonly understood as essentially ambiguous, that the detour is a necessary one.

The language of Victorian friendship was so ardent, the public face of female marriage so amicable, the comparisons between female friendship and marriage between men and women so constant, that it is no simple task to distinguish female friends from female lovers or female couples. The question “did they have sex?” is the first one on people’s lips today when confronted with a claim that women in the past were lovers—and it is almost always unanswerable. If firsthand testimony about sex is the standard for defining a relationship as sexual, then most Victorians never had sex. Scholars have yet to determine whether Thomas Carlyle was impotent; when, if ever, John Stuart Mill and Harriet Taylor consummated their relationship; or if Arthur Munby and Hannah Cullwick, whose diaries recorded their experiments with fetishes, cross-dressing, and bootlicking, also had genital intercourse.

Just as one can read hundreds of Victorian letters, diaries, and memoirs without finding a single mention of menstruation or excretion, one rarely finds even oblique references to sex between husband and wife. Men and women were equally reticent about sexual activity inside and outside of marriage. In a journal that described her courtship and wedding in detail, Lady Knightley dispatched the first weeks of wedded life in two lines: “Rainald and I entered on our new life in our own home. May God bless it to us” (173). Elizabeth Butler, whose autobiography included “a little sketch of [her] rather romantic meeting” with the man who became her husband, was similarly and typically laconic about a transition defined by sexual intercourse: “June 11 of that year, 1877, was my wedding day.”

The lack of reliable evidence of sexual activity becomes less problematic, however, if we realize that sex matters because of the social relationships it creates and concentrate on those relationships. In Victorian England, sex was assumed to be part of marriage, but could also drop out of marriage without destroying a bond never defined by sex alone. The diaries and correspondence of Anne Lister and Charlotte Cushman provide solid evidence that nineteenth-century women had genital contact and orgasms with other women, but even more importantly, they demonstrate that sex created different kinds of connections. The fleeting encounters Lister had with women she met abroad were very different from the illicit but sustained affair Cushman had with a much younger woman who became her daughter-in-law.

Those types of affairs were in turn worlds apart from the relationships with women that Lister and Cushman called marriages, a term that did not simply mean the relationships were sexual but also connoted shared households, mingled property, and assumptions about exclusivity and durability. We can best understand what kinds of relationships women had with each other not by hunting for evidence of sex, which even if we find it will not explain much, but rather by anchoring women’s own statements about their relationships in a larger context.

The context I provide here is the complex linguistic field of lifewriting, which brings into focus two types of relationships often confused with friendship, indeed often called friendship, but significantly different from it: 1) unrequited passion and obsessive infatuation; and 2) life partnerships, which some Victorians described as marriages between women. The most famous and best-documented example of a Victorian woman’s avowed but unreciprocated passion for another woman is Edith Simcox’s lifelong love for George Eliot, which has made her a staple figure in histories of lesbianism.

Simcox (1844–1901) was a trade-union organizer and professional writer who regularly contributed book reviews to the periodical press and published fiction and nonfiction, including a study of women’s property ownership in ancient societies, discussed in chapter 5. From 1876 to 1900, Simcox kept a journal in a locked book that surfaced in 1930. Simcox gave her life story a title, The Autobiography of a Shirtmaker, that foregrounded her successful work as a labor activist, but its actual content focused on what Simcox called “the lovepassion of her life,” her longing for George Eliot as an unattainable, idealized beloved whom she called “my goddess” or, even more reverently, “Her.”

Simcox knowingly embraced a love that could not be returned, though she was aware of reciprocated, consummated sexual love between women. Her diary alludes to a “lovers’ quarrel” among three women she knew (61) and mentions her own rejection of a woman who “professed a feeling for me different from what she had ever had for any one, it might make her happiness if I could return it” (159). Tellingly, though twentieth-century scholars often refer to Simcox euphemistically as Eliot’s devoted “friend,” Simcox rarely used the term, and modeled herself instead on a courtly lover made all the more devoted by the one-sidedness of her passion. Simcox defined her diary as an “acta diurna amoris,” a daily act of love, and aspired to keep it with a constancy that would mirror her total absorption in Eliot (3).

After bringing Eliot two valentines in February 1878, Simcox wrote: “Yesterday I went to see her, and have been in a calm glow of happiness since:—for no special reason, only that to have been near her happens to have that effect on me. . . . I did nothing but make reckless love to her . . . I had told her of my ambition to be allowed to lie silently at her feet as she pursued her occupations” (25). George Lewes, the companion whom Eliot’s friends referred to as her husband, was present at most of these scenes, and he and Eliot tolerated and even enjoyed Simcox’s attentions, which they consciously construed as loverlike.

During a conversation about Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s love poems, Sonnets from the Portugese, Eliot told Simcox “she wished my letters could be printed in the same veiled way— ‘the Newest Heloise,’” thus situating Simcox’s missives to her in the tradition of amatory literature (39). In private, Simcox indulged fantasies of a more sensual connection, reflecting on a persistent “love that made the longing and molded the caress,” and recalling how “[i]n thinking of her, kisses used to form themselves instinctively on my lips—I seldom failed to kiss her a good night in thought” (136).

In trying to define her love for Eliot, Simcox significantly refused to be content with one paradigm; instead, she accumulated analogies, comparing her love for Eliot to both “[m]arried love and passionate friendship” (60). Like a medieval ascetic, Simcox eroticized her lack of sexual fulfillment, arguing that her love was even more powerful than friendship or marriage because, in resigning herself to living “widowed of perfect joy,” she had felt “sharp flames consuming what was left . . . of selfish lust” (60).

In an unsent 1880 letter to Eliot, Simcox again found herself unable to select only one category to explain her love: “Do you see darling that I can only love you three lawful ways, idolatrously as Frater the Virgin Mary, in romance wise as Petrarch, Laura, or with a child’s fondness for the mother” (120). By implication, Simcox also suggested that there would be an unlawful way to love Eliot—as an adulterer who would usurp the uxurious role already occupied by Lewes. She concluded by explaining that her relationship with Eliot was too unequal to be a friendship (120).

In the absence of the sociological and scientific shorthand provided by sexology or a codified subculture, and in the absence of a genuinely shared life that could be represented by a common history or joint possessions, women like Simcox represented their unrequited sexual desire for other women by extravagantly combining incompatible terms such as mother, lover, sister, friend, wife, and idol. Other women deployed similar rhetorical techniques of intensification and accumulation to express sexual loves that were not equally felt and did not lead to long-term partnerships.

At age twenty, Sophia Jex-Blake (1840–1912), one of England’s first female doctors and an activist who helped open medical education to women, met philanthropist Octavia Hill (1838–1912). In a biography of Jex-Blake written in 1918 that still adhered to Victorian rhetorical conventions, Margaret Todd called her subject’s relationship with Hill a “friendship” but qualified it as one that made “the deepest impression . . . of any in the whole of her life.” Jex-Blake considered the degree of love she felt for women to be unusual, writing around 1858, “I believe I love women too much ever to love a man” (78).

During a brief relationship that Hill soon broke off, the two women may have been sexually involved, but even so their feelings were never evenly matched. During the period when the women were closest, Hill reduced their bond to mere chumminess by calling herself and Jex-Blake “great companions” (85). By contrast, Jex-Blake was in awe of Hill and described her as both child and mother, roles often eroticized for Victorians, writing in her diary of “My dear loving strong child . . . I do love and reverence her” (85). Even after the relationship ended, Jex-Blake thought of Hill as her lifelong spouse, referring twenty years later to the “fanciful faithfulness” she maintained for her first love, to whom she left “the whole of her little property” in repeated wills (94).

Like Simcox, Jex-Blake used intensified language to underscore the uniqueness of her emotions. When she described inviting Hill on a vacation that included a visit to Llangollen, a site made famous by the female couple who had lived there together, Jex-Blake wrote of her “heart beating like a hammer” (85) and then described Hill’s response: “She sunk her head on my lap silently, raised it in tears, then such a kiss!” (86). Female friends often exchanged kisses, but Jex-Blake’s account took the kiss out of the realm of friendship into one of heightened sensation. Although it was common for female friends to love each other and write gushingly about it, Simcox and Jex-Blake also wrote of feeling uncommon, different from the general run of women.

Simcox identified closely with men and Jex-Blake felt unable to love men as most women did; both were extraordinarily autonomous, professionally successful, and self-conscious about the significance of their love for women. Other women also had intense erotic relationships that went beyond friendship, but were less self-conscious about those relationships, which they rarely saw as needing special explanation, and which usually lasted years or months rather than a lifetime. An example of outright insouciance about a deeply felt erotic fascination between women is found in the journals of Margaret Leicester Warren, written in the 1870s and published for private circulation in 1924.

Little is known about Warren, who was born in 1847 and led the life of a typical upper-middle-class lady, attending church, studying drawing and music, and marrying a man in 1875. Her diary attests to a fondness for triangulated relationships that included an adolescent crush on her newlywed sister and her sister’s husband, and a brief, tumultuous engagement to a male cousin whose mother was the dramatic center of Warren’s intense emotions. In 1872, when Warren was twenty-five, she began to write incessantly about a distant cousin named Edith Leycester in entries that reveled in the experience of succumbing to another woman’s glamour: “Edith looked very beautiful and as usual I fell in love with her....Tonight Edith took me into her room. . . . She is like an enchanted princess. There is some charm or spell that has been thrown over her.”

Numerous similar entries recorded an infatuation that combined daily familiarity with reverent mystification of a sophisticated and self-dramatizing woman. Warren’s fascination with Edith lasted several years. Unlike Simcox and Jex-Blake, Warren never self-consciously reflected that her feelings for Edith differed from conventional friendship, but like them, Warren ascribed an intensity, exclusivity, and volatility to her feelings for Edith absent from most accounts of female friendship. Indeed, Warren rarely referred to Edith as a friend when she wrote of her desire to see Edith every day and recorded their many exchanges of confidences, poetry, and gifts.

Warren fetishized and idealized Edith, was fixated on her presence and absence, and used superlatives to describe the feelings she inspired. Within months of meeting Edith, most of Warren’s entries consisted of detailed reenactments of their daily visits and the emotions generated by each parting and reunion: “Edith was charming tonight and I was happier with her than I have ever been. She looked beautiful” (287). Warren created an erotic aura around Edith through the very act of writing about her, through a liberal use of adverbs and adjectives, and by infusing her friend’s most ordinary actions with dramatic implications.

Describing how Edith invited her to visit her country home, for example, Warren wrote, “Edith came in and threw herself down on the chair and said quietly and gently ‘come to Toft!’” (291). Although Warren got along well with Edith’s rarely present husband, Rafe, she relished being alone with her and described the awkward, jealous scenes that took place whenever she had to share Edith with other women (362, 369). Warren found ways to dwell on the details of Edith’s beauty through references to fashion and contemporary art. Like many diarists, Warren had an almost novelistic capacity to observe and characterize people in terms of prevailing aesthetic forms.

She described Edith with flowers in her hair, looking like a pre-Raphaelite painting, and recorded her desire to make images of Edith: “I sd. like to paint her. . . . It wd. make a good ‘golden witch’ a beautiful Enchantress” (290–91). A ride with Edith inspired Warren to pen another impassioned tableau: “All the way there in the brougham I looked at Edith’s beautiful profile, the lamp light shining on it, and the wind blowing her hair about—her face also, all lit up with enthusiasm and tenderness as she leant forward to Rafe and told him a long story . . . I . . . only thought how grand she was” (369–70).

Shared confidences about Warren’s broken engagement to their male cousin became another medium for cultivating the women’s special intimacy. By assuring Warren that she did not side with the jilted fiance´, Edith declared an autonomous interest in her: “‘I wanted you to come here because— because I like you.’ She was sitting at her easel and never looking at me as she spoke for I was standing behind her, but when she said ‘because I like you,’ she looked backwards up at me with such an honest, soft, beautiful expression that any distrust I had still left of her trueness melted up into a cinder” (290).

Just as Warren heightened her relationship with Edith by writing about it so effusively and at such length, the two women elevated it by coyly discussing what their interactions and feelings meant. Before one of her many departures from London, Edith asked Warren: “‘[A]re you sorry I am going? . . . How curious—why are you sorry?’ Then I told her a little of all she had done for me . . . how much life and pleasure and interest she had put into my life, and she said nothing but she just put out her hand and laid it on my hand and that from her means a great deal more than 100 things from anyone else” (293). Edith’s gesture drew on the repertory of friendship, but in the private theater of her journal, Warren transformed the touch of a hand into a uniquely meaningful clasp.

This is not to say the relationship was one-sided. If Warren’s diary reports the two women’s interactions with any degree of accuracy, it is clear that both enjoyed creating an atmosphere of pent-up longing. Edith fed Warren’s infatuation with provocative questions and a skill for setting scenes: “She asked what things I cared for now? And I said with truth, for nothing— except seeing her” (303). Three days later, just before another of Edith’s departures, Warren paid a call: When tea was over, the dusk had begun and I . . . sat . . . at the open window. . . . By and bye Edith came and sat near me. . . . The room inside was nearly dark, but outside it was brilliant May moonlight. . . . Edith sat there ready to go, looking very pale and very sad with the light on her face. . . . We did not talk much. She asked me to go to the party tonight and to think of her at 11. . . . She said goodbye and she kissed me, for the first time. (303–4)

Warren is exquisitely sensitive to every element that connotes eroticism: a darkened room, physical proximity, complicit silence, a romantic demand that the beloved remain present in her lover’s mind even when absent, a kiss whose uniqueness—“for the first time”—suggests a beginning. Any one of these actions would have been unremarkable between female friends, but comparison with other women’s diaries shows how distinctive it was for Warren to list so many gestures within one entry, without defining and therefore restricting their meaning. Warren’s attitude also distinguishes her emotions from those articulated by women who took their love for women in a more conjugal or sexual direction. Her journals combine exhaustive attention to the beloved with a pervasive indifference to interrogating what that fascination might mean.

Never classified as friendship or love, Warren’s feelings for Edith had the advantages and limits of remaining in the realm of suggestion, where they could expand infinitely without ever being realized or checked. Women who consummated a mutual love and consolidated it by forming a conjugal household were less likely to leave records of their most impassioned moods and deeds than those whose love went unrequited or undefined. Indeed, women in what were sometimes called “female marriages” (a term I discuss further in chapter 5) used lifewriting to claim the privilege of privacy accorded to opposite-sex spouses.

Like the lifewritings of women married to men, those of women in female marriages assumed intimacy and interdependence rather than displaying it, and folded their sexual bond into a social one. They described shared households and networks of acquaintances who recognized and thus legitimated the women’s coupledom, liberally using words such as “always,” “never,” and “every” to convey an iterated, daily familiarity more typical of spouses than friends.

Martha Vicinus’s Intimate Friends cites many nineteenth-century women who described their relationships with other women as marriages, and Magnus Hirschfeld’s magisterial, international study of The Homosexuality of Men and Women (1914) noted that same sex couples often created “marriage-like associations characterized by the exclusivity and long duration of the relationships, the living together and the common household, the sharing of every interest, and often the existence of legitimate community property.”

Sexual relationships of all stripes were most acceptable when their sexual nature was least visible as such but was instead manifested in terms of marital acts such as cohabitation, fidelity, financial solidarity, and adherence to middle-class norms of respectability. Because friendship between women was so clearly defined and prized, one way to acknowledge a female couple’s existence while respecting their privacy was to call women who were in effect married to each other “friends.” Given that “friends” was used to describe women who were lovers and women who were not, how can we tell when “friends” means more than just friends?

…There are many instances of published writing acknowledging marital relationships between women by calling them friendships. Victorian women in female couples were not automatically subject to the exposure and scandal visited on opposite-sex couples who stepped outside the bounds of respectable sexual behavior. Instead, many female couples enjoyed both the right to privacy associated with marriage and the public privileges accorded to female friendship. The Halifax Guardian obituary of Anne Lister in 1840 recognized her longstanding spousal relationship with Anne Walker by calling her Lister’s “friend and companion,” a gratuitously compound phrase.

Emily Faithfull, whom we will encounter again in chapter 6, was a feminist with a long history of female lovers. An 1894 article entitled “An Afternoon Tea with Miss Emily Faithfull” described her home in Manchester, decorated by “Miss Charlotte Robinson,” whom Faithfull readily disclosed “shares house with me.”80 Faithfull left all her property to Robinson in a will that called her “my beloved friend” whose “countless services” and “affectionate tenderness and care . . . made the last few years of my life the happiest I ever spent.” To call one woman another’s superlative friend was not to disavow their marital relationship but to proclaim it in the language of the day.”

- Sharon Marcus, “Friendship and the Play of the System.” in Between Women: Friendship, Desire, and Marriage in Victorian England

#victorian #sexuality #history #sharon marcus #between women

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feysandfeels · 3 years

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I'm surprised that feysand "I choose to see the good in everybody" feels is not in the committee of the Eris Vanserra apologist reform.

looooool, well if I'm being known for something I like that it is that Nonnie.

Let me ramble on a bit about Eris Vanserra, soon to be High Lord of the Autumn Court. This will not be organized though.

Right now all the information and interpretations that I have of Eris is a solid 40% canon and 60% fanon. Now, that fanon is nicely supported and has solid solid backing but is fanon nonetheless.

I think it is highly agreed that he is clearly a "more than meets the eye" character and he has been deliberately cultivating a façade, and that this façade is distanced from who he feels he is in his #Heart.

With what I see of Eris, through the blogs I follow, I think it is also very clear that he has been as good brother to Lucien as he can be without putting himself at risk. Most of the interpretations, headcanons and general focus have been concentrating on the speculation on how Eris has helped Lucien behind the scenes and how he is trying to make the Autumn Court into a Velaris. Which heavily implies that he has done positive things and has been an even better brother to Lucien, than he could possibly acknowledge publicly.

This view of Eris, breaking free from his father's toxic discourse, trying to be a better man, helping Lucien, being a good son to his mother and also playing the mean brother, being a tad selfish and having ulterior motives that might benefit him first and then everyone else (I do not believe that he is a selfless selfless person): I can see happening. Honestly, the headcanon that he helped mask Lucien's true parentage and powers is only one Sarah J Maas away from happening.

I agree wholeheartedly that he is a very complex character very much in a Rhys path, and truthfully I am here for that.

I will say I do care for him more than I did before ACOSF came out, before I was intrigued by how he behaved in ACOWAR, but now I'm like

I have my ticket to board the Eris train.

Here is why I haven't boarded and why I will not board yet.

Mor. (❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛)

I am first and foremost a Mor stan (again ❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛), she is top three characters for me and I love her beyond words and measure. Her word and her healing come above many things in this series, Eris' arc included.

And I know that you will say that there is clearly more to the story and more to his involvement in the abuse Mor went through and that we've only had a very carefully curated version of the events: That we have yet to hear *his* side of the story.

Nonetheless, I will forever prioritize Mor's account of the events and how she has interpreted them in the centuries after they happened.

It has been stated, by Eris himself no less, that Mor is in possession of information, that could make Eris appear in a kinder light than he has thus far -at least where Mor is concerned-. As readers we can guess or imply that this means that Eris knows that Mor prefers women and by leaving her to bleed out in the autumn court border and refusing to marry her, he was helping her escape a life of misery in the same way he tried helping Lucien: by finding loopholes and playing around the rules. And this may very well be.

Yet yet yet, she still acts around him and around his presence in a way that suggests that even with this information she still sees him as an abuser -if not a direct one then a "you stood by the abuse" abuser-. In 500 years she has never corrected Az, Rhys or Cass when they reference how much they dislike Eris' actions or lack there of: they all, palabras más palabras menos, hate him. To me, this is very telling of the weight that "piece of missing information" has on his "innocence" or at least his claim to innocence.

It is true, that we might be facing a situation whereby not even Mor herself is aware of the larger context of her betrothal and subsequent abuse, and Eris did very well try his damn best to help her in anyway he could or whatever. It could also be a case that Mor associated him with her trauma and wants him at arms length. But I don't think this is it. I think Mor's distaste of Eris is more than wrong place wrong time and she has a clear justification why she doesn't like him and felt he had a hand at what happened to her.

Personally, it is clear that while Mor is not a character that very carefully created a façade of herself that distanced from their "true self" like Rhys or Eris, she is also not a "wears her heart and all of herself on her sleeve" character like Cassian. She has indeed held somethings close to her heart; this situation being one of them. This means that as of now we know only the tip of the iceberg and there is a lot of context that we do not have. One of those missing pieces is how Eris fits in Mor's abuse and how she truly feels about him and not how others interpret how she feels.

I doubt very much that this missing piece of information will do a 180 and make Mor (and me) go, "you know what, you truly are blameless #TeamEris". I think it is more likely that he apologizes or shows some regret at his involvement or some sort of apologetic behavior.

But regardless, I think that until I get Mor's views on the matter and her green-ish light on Eris I cannot be fully on board with "Eris Vanserra apologist reform" as you put it hahaha

Ps: I agree very much with what Cassian said to him at the end, I do think he is a coward. But I also think he is aware of how his lack of action and sense of self preservation lead into a cowardice that has affected people he cared for (Lucien) and affected the common decency, if you will, he owes anyone (Mor).

#Feysandfeelsaks #anywho I do not hate Eris but if the series ends without us seeing a redemption arc I will not feel sorry about it #we are very clearly heading towards an Eris Vanserra redemption arc and as I said I am intrigued #his sort of character has always interested me and I do think he offers some nice dynamism.#But I put Mor above all else and if she says no then it will have to be a no for me #from me*#Her situation is very black and white for me and allows little room for lukewarm stances #Mor #The Morrigan #Eris Vanserra #You either helped Mor or you stood by and watched how she was abused #FeysandfeelsAsks

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claudiasjeancregg · 3 years

Text

and when you’re close (i feel like coming undone)

a west wing high school au, dedicated to @singingaboutwishingx and @thxngam for being supportive of this random piece! this is in no way finished, but i wanted to post what i have so far. don’t hate me if it sucks. title from taylor swift’s untouchable.

It didn’t happen like it would in the movies. They didn’t collide in a busy hallway with stars in their eyes, they didn’t form a spontaneous friendship before slowly realizing the depth of their feelings for each other, and they didn’t have the epic kiss during prom. Their hallway was a dusty classroom that the school newspaper had taken over, the spontaneous friendship was an uneasy partnership on the penultimate issue of the semester, and their prom was a party CJ threw to celebrate the semester finally ending. But, in the end, it was the same.

Josh had left the party, drunk on three shitty beers, accompanied by Sam and Donna as they planned how to get him home without getting them all grounded until way after college. Donna’s parents were still under the impression that their firecracker of a daughter was an innocent Midwestern girl, so she had to get home before the rest of them. Her sober state would ordinarily make her designated driver, if it weren’t for the fact that she still didn’t have her license. CJ couldn’t imagine being that young. They probably weren’t the best influences on someone who wasn’t legally allowed to drive, but it wasn’t like Donna gave a shit. She brought half of her mom’s vodka supply to the party without being asked, handing them to CJ with a nervous smile.

“Wow. So Midwestern hospitality really does live on in every generation,” CJ said with a smirk. She took one look at Donna’s nervous face and enveloped her in a hug. The younger girl seemed to let out a breath as she stepped inside.

Toby grabbed the vodka from CJ’s hands without asking, adding it to the pile of alcohol they had amassed. She stared at him.

“If it was $4 for each beer and $2 for each shot, more than 50 people, we made at least 300 bucks.” His fingers hadn’t stopped moving, tapping incessantly against his dark jeans.

“I spent—“

“60 for the beers and 20 for the stuff in the shots, I know. I haven’t even counted entrance fees.” Toby gave her what could almost be described as a smile, and her stomach dropped out like she was on a roller coaster ride.

CJ mentally shook herself— “Uh, I can count it by myself.”

“I don’t mind,” he said with an unusually earnest look in his eyes.

She moved next to Toby. They started to count the money, working in sync without needing to talk at all.

And then he stopped. Toby stopped, and turned to look at her.

“What?” CJ asked without turning, keeping her hands busy as a way to stop her mind.

“I- I think about you.” He turned to her, slowly covering her hands with his and looking at her. It felt like he was staring into her soul. “I think about you all the time, and I don’t know why, but I don’t want it to stop. You’re amazing, CJ. Not just at writing, or being Editor-In-Chief, but just at everything. You walk into a room and it’s like... I don’t know. It’s like everything stops. You make everything better.”

Her hands were stilled, now, and her mind was running at full speed.

Toby’s eyes were dark, dark like he was hiding a sky full of secrets like bright stars in his mind. God, he was beautiful. She’d never thought about a guy like that, especially not one in high school, but it was the only word that fit.

“Are you planning on telling me about your perverted fantasies or should I just assume—“

“No! Jesus, CJ.”

“You’re Jewish,” she quipped. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean- never mind. I, it’s just not like that. Not that I don’t, God, look at you!”

“Toby.” CJ stared at him with an amused smirk. It wasn’t often that he was so... un-Toby. His sentences were ordinarily succinct and his voice sullen, but not right now. Right now, she was the one at a loss for words. But she had to say something, didn’t she?

“Start over. Say, say that again.”

“What?” She moved closer to him, the air between them crackling like an electric field.

“Say it again,” she whispered, placing a hand on his cheek. It was rough, like he had forgotten to shave before coming to the party.

“I think about you.”

CJ kissed him.

She grabbed Toby by the collar with her other hand and pulled him in, kissing him like all her problems could go away as long as their lips were touching. And for a moment, they did. His hands wrapped around her hips, pulling her closer and closer and closer until she could feel his heart beating. They were electric. She could feel it in every touch, every time he kissed her neck and she couldn’t help but gasp. And he didn’t seem to care— if anything, that spurred him on. She could taste the beer in his lips, could feel the calluses on his hand from years of writing. His hand slid underneath her black shirt, the one that awarded her a disapproving side-eye from her stepmom hours before. It felt like a distant memory, now. Toby splayed his fingers across her back and her breath suddenly disappeared.

How had she never noticed how good he was? How solid he felt under her touch, like she could put her weight on him and he would carry it— carry her— without hesitation; how he looked at her like she was a masterpiece instead of someone’s absentminded sketch. She was beautiful in his eyes. Somehow, she was perfect in his eyes. And to her, so was he. Toby was the road less traveled, the ground unbroken underneath her touch, someone who hadn’t yet learned her flaws and figured out exactly how to use them against her. He was good to her, and that was so refreshing. God, an hour ago she would have never imagined she would be making out with Toby Ziegler in her kitchen. She smiled, then, and he paused.

“What?” His voice was velvet in her ears, and it scared her how much she wanted him to keep talking.

“I just—“ she shook her head. “I’m glad you’re here,” CJ admitted. It felt stupid to say, but she did it anyway.

And Toby pulled her in, kissing her like she was a flower that bloomed under his touch. She felt the ghost of a kiss on her throat, and couldn’t help the giggle that came out. It was just so unlike him— the Toby that she knew, the one who yelled at Sam and terrified all the freshmen, was painfully hard to reconcile with the one touching her right now.

“Shut up,” he groused.

That did it. She cracked up— head thrown back, the perfect picture of a girl way too old to be this young.

Toby gave her a minute. He wasn’t offended by the laughter, like another guy might have been. Like other guys had been. That was CJ, that was how she was.

He lifted her up, carrying her onto the counter, and she gasped against his lips. As much as this could backfire tomorrow, she knew the truth as well as she knew her time. She wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

#HERE YOU GO #ITS A THING #i don’t know how i feel about it but #whatever!!! seize the day!!#cj x toby #tww #tww ideas #my fic #aleena writes

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