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#it’s the emotional trauma you’re putting me through. and i’m going to be a junior next year. and that’s fucking terrifying
ticktocklovex · 1 year
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♡ DESCRIPTION : you take on a part-time job which becomes difficult to let go of.
♡ PAIRING : trainee!lee heeseung x female reader
♡ WORD COUNT : 1,503
♡  AUTHOR’S NOTE: not that anyone asked but i actually got into enhypen last year when i got covid for the first time. i stumbled upon iland and have become an engene ever since. i got covid again last week and i ended up binge watching iland again which lead to this fic. i may be adding more parts but i can't promise anything! i hope you guys like this one!
“And you’re all set!” you say as you set down the hair straightener. You use your hand to shield the eyes of the boy in front of you while you spritz some hairspray on his head. “Thanks y/n! It was really nice meeting you.” Jake says, standing up from his seat.
“Nice meeting you too and good luck with your performance!” you cheer. You raise your arms in a ‘fighting’ motion as you give him your brightest smile. Jake flashes you a smile in return which he wasn’t able to muster up earlier due to nervousness. He exits the dressing room to join the rest of the boys who are preparing for their first group performance on I-LAND.
“y/n could you please pass me the hair dryer.” says the older man at the station beside you.
“Here you go oppa.” you say as you hand him the requested tool.
“I told you not to call me that here. It’s fine when we’re in the salon but we need to keep it professional on an outside job like this.” He leans into your ear as he reaches for the hair dryer before returning to style the boy in front of him. You’ve been interning at your older cousin’s hair & makeup studio since the start of junior year, wanting to make some money of your own.
It’s now the beginning of summer break and you’ve landed this temporary job with him as stylists for the survival show I-LAND. “Yes, Cha Heon-ssi.” you correct yourself and turn back to your station to find a doe-eyed boy sitting in the vanity chair. 
“Oh hello! I didn’t see you there. I’m y/n, nice to meet you!” you bow as you introduce yourself. He does the same, “Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Heeseung.”
You begin styling his hair while you try to make small talk. The small talk doesn’t last long as you sense a heavy feeling weighing on him. You notice how his deer-like eyes failed to hide his emotions which you sensed to be something more than nervousness. You’re putting the finishing touches on his hairstyle when you speak up again. 
“You have really nice teeth.” you blurt out. Heeseung breaks out of his daze and his Bambi eyes look up at you in confusion. “It’d be a shame not to showcase them.” There’s a moment of awkward silence between you two before your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. You drop your head in an attempt to hide your face.
In that moment, you hear a gentle laugh from the boy in front of you. You look up to see his really nice teeth displayed in a beautiful smile. “Thank you y/n.” he curtly replies. “For what?” you question. “The compliment. Also, I haven’t been able to laugh like that for a while.” he says. For some strange reason, he wants to open up about all the difficulties he’s experienced in the short while since I-LAND began.
There’s just something so comforting about the way your smile reaches your eyes but he withholds himself from trauma dumping on someone he’s just met. “Well, I don’t know what you’re going through in there but you deserve to laugh. You deserve to smile. You know, because you have nice teeth. I’m sure you’ll do great.” Heeseung doesn’t know if it’s because of the rough week he’s had but your words of encouragement touch his heart so deeply that a tear almost escapes him.
You let him know that you’re done working on him and begin to clean up your station. Heeseung stands from the dressing chair with a newfound motivation. Before he heads out, he flashes you one last smile and says, “Thank you.”
-
Sunday is Heeseung’s favorite day. He didn’t always have a preference of days but after spending two months in a building that was supposed to represent an egg, everyday started to feel the same. Except for Sunday. Sunday was test day and although tests were nerve-wracking and anxiety inducing, he was also excited because test day meant he got to see you.
Seeing you felt like a breath of fresh air after spending every day with the same twenty two guys. Not to mention they weren’t allowed to have any outside communication meaning no phones or social media. Surely Heeseung wasn’t the only one who looked forward to your weekly visit.
The feeling was mutual. You didn’t have many plans for summer break this year other than working with your cousin at his salon. Sundays were also becoming your favorite. Due to the nature of your father’s work as a diplomat, you moved around a lot which resulted in you being home-schooled.
So getting to meet these guys on a weekly basis was the closest thing you’ve felt to friendship. Speaking of friendship, you were currently in the dressing room chatting away with Kim Sunoo who was a friend of the same age. “I can’t believe there’s only 3 more weeks until the finale.” he says as you’re busy working on his makeup.
“I’m rooting for your debut!” you exclaim in reply. He playfully rolls his eyes. “I bet you say that to the rest of the guys here.” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, you’re not wrong. I think you’re all so talented and hardworking.” He nods along in agreement. You sense his nerves suddenly take over him.
“But hey, you always have my vote, my special ‘03 friend!” you say to try to lift his mood. He instantly brightens up and you two share a sweet embrace. The moment is cut short when you hear someone clear their throat beside you. “I’m sorry to ruin the moment but may I be styled next?” Heeseung asks.
You let go of Sunoo and straighten yourself out. “Yup, I was just about finished with you Sunoo.” you say and he gets up from the dressing chair. Heeseung replaces him in the chair as you wave Sunoo goodbye. You begin working on his hair and you two naturally fall into conversation as you’ve grown accustomed to in the past weeks.
“Do I have your vote too?” Heeseung suddenly asks you. You give him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you won’t need my vote since you’re the ace.” His doe eyes flash disappointment for a moment before you continue. “But yes, you also definitely have my vote too. If there’s anyone who deserves to debut, it’s you.” 
Although Heeseung knows you also say similar things to the other guys, he’s still greatly encouraged to hear those words from you. You finish up with Heeseung’s hair and makeup and wish him luck on their performance. When the dressing room is empty you turn to your cousin. “Oppa, can I use your email? Looks like I have a lot of voting to do.”
-
“Are you okay? You don’t look too well.” Heeseung asks you. You were trying your best to hide your restlessness but the lack of color in your face and shaky hands gave you away. You were currently doing hair and makeup touch ups before the I-LAND boys head back on stage for the final debut lineup.
“Why am I so nervous? I’m not even the one debuting.” you question yourself. “I hope you’re not too nervous to give me a last word of encouragement.” Heeseung looks at you in anticipation. Although your interactions are quite limited, your weekly cheers for him have helped him endure even the hardest moments of the survival program. It’s the first time your mind is unable to form a coherent sentence but you wanted to express your sincere support.
“Lee Heeseung, fighting!” you cheer. You both breakout in laughter and although his future is on the line, Heeseung heads back on stage with a comfortable optimism. You, on the other hand, were not feeling too cheerful. Not only were you nervous for the boys who have been fighting for their chance to debut, you were also faced with the sad reality that this may be the last time you would get to see them.
The boys you grew an attachment to over the summer were now standing on stage, the final lineup announcement having been made. There were no words to describe Heeseung’s joy to find out he would finally make his debut as an ENHYPEN member along with Jungwon, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo and Niki. 
After receiving congratulations from the senior artists, producers, and I-LAND contestants, the boys finally get the chance to retrieve their belongings from the place they called home for the past three months. Heeseung makes his way backstage, hoping to share the good news with you but you aren’t there. He’s disappointed to see that you’re not in the dressing room either. 
Heeseung’s heart is filled to the brim with happiness but there’s a small part of him that feels a little empty, not being able to share his success with his number one supporter and personal cheerleader.
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spine-buster · 3 years
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Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒
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CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. T͟h͟i͟s͟ ͟c͟h͟a͟p͟t͟e͟r͟ ͟s͟p͟e͟c͟i͟f͟i͟c͟a͟l͟l͟y͟ ͟h͟a͟s͟ ͟m͟e͟n͟t͟i͟o͟n͟s͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟d͟e͟a͟l͟s͟ ͟w͟i͟t͟h͟ ͟m͟i͟s͟c͟a͟r͟r͟i͟a͟g͟e͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟s͟e͟x͟u͟a͟l͟ ͟a͟s͟s͟a͟u͟l͟t͟.͟  Please be warned.
Word Count: 14,637
Please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page if you are able.  Link in my bio & Masterlist.
A/N:  “Courage” officially broke my record for most notes on a debut chapter, so thank you all so much for all your likes and reblogs!  This chapter is more serious in parts, but we get to see an evolving Effie and an evoling Effie/Matthew dynamic.  Enjoy!
                                                           *     *     *     *     *
Effie.  Her name was Effie.  And everybody knew it.  
Rachel was no more.  Rachel was a thing of the past and she was going to stay there.  Rachel was a person who had been hurt and abused.  Rachel was named by an abusive, violent, cruel, despicable tyrant who called himself Abraham and proclaimed he was a prophet.  Rachel was a girl with no voice, no agency, nothing to call her own.  Rachel was a girl who belonged to someone.
Effie was new.  Effie was her chosen name and a thing of the future.  Effie was a person learning to come to terms with her trauma after years of hurt and abuse.  Effie was name by herself, for herself, to reclaim her identity after years of it being denied to her.  Effie was a girl with a voice, agency, and even though she could only count a few things as her own, they were just that – her own.  Effie was a girl who belonged to nobody but herself.  
That was how she liked it.  
Naming herself instilled a new sense of confidence within her.  It was small, and it was gradual, but the people around her could notice it.  Matthew knew he could.  She was more assertive…in her own way.  She didn’t ask “Can I ask you a question?” before asking questions anymore.  She just asked.  She was proud of her learning and was getting used to showing it off.  Her independence increased.  She’d walk to Starbucks to get her strawberry frappucinos instead of having Jenna drive her.  She engaged in more conversation.  She made jokes.  She laughed at jokes.  She went grocery shopping with Jenna and said “I want to buy corn dogs” so she and Jenna bought corn dogs and they had them for dinner one night.  She went to Levi and said “I want to get a phone so I can text Annica” and so he gave her an old iPhone he had in the house.  She asked Annica more about makeup, even though she was still a bit apprehensive about using it.  She asked Geneviève about words she’d read and wanted to know more about.  Feminism (that was the best word she learned, Effie thought.  She was a feminist).  Socialism.  Communism.  Democracy.  Geneviève explained them all to her.  She asked Geneviève about pants.
She wore pants.
It was weird at first, wearing pants.  She’d only ever worn skirts and dresses, even in the privacy of her own home when she was in the cult.  The prophet demanded it; women were not allowed to wear pants.  So when Jenna encouraged her to try on an old pair of jeans that she had, Effie did.  They were big – Effie was still, well, small, and gaining weight every day – but Effie liked them.  “Can I buy a pair of jeans?” she asked Jenna.  Jenna promised to take her shopping at the mall on the weekend.  It would be Effie’s first time in a mall. 
Effie wanted to be fearless, but there was still a lot of fear in her.  Everything was so new, and so big, and sometimes so complicated, and she wished things were easier but she knew they couldn’t be.  But instead of before, when she would let the fear overcome her, she embraced it instead.  She worked through it.  She did things in spite of the fear.  She did things because she didn’t want the fear in her anymore.
That’s why she found herself walking now.  Walking to Starbucks.  Well, not to Starbucks exactly, but to the complex that held the Starbucks and a bunch of other stores.  Effie had noticed one particular one a few storefronts down and had taken mental note of it for when she was ready for it.  And now, walking with purpose through Aspen Woods, clutching something very important in the pocket of her jacket, she was ready.  
“Chop it all off.”
“What?!” the hairdresser shrieked as she looked at Effie through the mirror, after putting a robe around her and running her hands through her long blonde hair.  “But your hair!  It’s healthy and it’s long and luscious and—and it would be a disservice if I chopped it all off!”
“Please.  I need you to cut it.  I need you to—”
“This is the greatest head of hair I’ve ever seen—”
“You don’t understand,” Effie interrupted.  “I escaped a cult.  I escaped The People’s Dominion of Christ.  This hair was never mine; it was always someone else’s.  I need you to cut it off so that it’s mine, so that something on my body is mine for once in my life.”
The hairdresser looked at Effie through the mirror, blinking a few times as she realized what Effie was saying.  Without saying another word, she reached over to her station and grabbed her scissors.  “How much do you want off?” she asked.
Effie unfolded the picture from one of Jenna’s old magazines that she had crumpled in her hand, showing the stylist.  “Like this,” she said.  “I don’t even want it touching my shoulders.”
The hairdresser nodded, placing the picture face up at her station so Effie could look at it as the hairdresser did her magic.  She took one last look at it before tying an elastic loosely around the hair.  “Ready?” she asked, gripping it.
Effie nodded firmly.  “Ready.”
***
Effie had six numbers stored on her phone.  Levi.  Jenna.  Annica.  Geneviève.  Jacob Markstrom.  Matthew Tkachuk.  
“Hello?” he asked as he picked up his phone.  
His voice was a welcome sound to Effie, who was nervous but excited as she looked at herself in the mirror.  “Matthew?  I’m—I’m sorry to bother you, but can you come pick me up?”
“I—yeah—is everything okay?” his voice sounded immediately worried.  “Where are you?”
Effie didn’t even know.  She covered the receiver with her hand and turned towards the hairstylist.  “What’s the address?”
“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13.”
“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13,” she repeated into the phone.
Matthew was officially confused.  “The Starbucks complex?”
“Yes…but a few stores down,” Effie informed him.
“I’ll be there in like, five minutes.”
***
Matthew was nervous.  Effie hadn’t sounded nervous on the phone, but he was still nervous.  It was out of the ordinary for her to call him to pick her up from anywhere, let alone from a place where she knew how to get home from now that she took the initiative to walk most places she wanted to go.  It wasn’t like he was going to deny her – he was speeding through the streets, if he was being completely honest – but the thoughts in his mind were running a mile a minute, and he had no clue what to expect.  
When he pulled into the complex, he searched for unit 13 and parked right in front of it.  It was only when he turned off his car that he actually saw the name of the store he’d parked in front of.  Abigail’s Hair Salon.
Matthew walked in.
He stopped dead in his tracks.  In front of him, Effie stood sheepishly, her long, flowing blonde hair chopped off almost completely, and in its place, a chic blonde bob, perfectly styled and perfectly her.  She had a t-shirt, baggy skinny jeans, and old Doc Martens on – no doubt all borrowed from Jenna – and she looked like a vision.  He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face.  “Effie,” he said her name bashfully, breathlessly, because it was so much to take in and she just looked so…cute.  
“Does it look nice?” she asked, patting it down at the sides.  
“It looks great, Effie,” Matthew said, and she could tell he meant it sincerely.  He bit his bottom lip before continuing his line of questioning, even though all he wanted to do was look at her.  “You wanted it this short?”
Effie nodded her head.  
“It suits you,” he nodded.  “Did you pay?”  Effie nodded her head.  “Did you tip?”
Effie looked scared for a moment.  “Tip?”
Matthew automatically took out his wallet and pulled a $50 from inside, giving it to the hairstylist.  He turned to Effie without another word.  “Wanna grab some lunch?”
“You—you’re not busy?  I thought you would just drive me home.”
“Let’s grab lunch,” he said casually, like it was no big deal.  “Grab your jacket.  What do you feel like eating?”
***
Matthew watched Effie for most of the meal, if he was being honest.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her regardless of how hard he tried.  But he kept any emotions or any feelings at bay, kicking himself for anything he was feeling that was…questionable.  He didn’t want to be that guy.  He didn’t want to make things more complicated for her when she was already learning so much, when the world was already a complicated place for her and she was trying to find her place in it.  
“What team does your brother play for?” Effie asked, picking at her plate left with all her fries.  She ate her bacon cheeseburger first and devoured it in less than ten minutes.  For Matthew, it was impressive.  He knew she was trying to gain weight.  He shuddered to think what she looked like a year ago.  
“The Ottawa Senators,” he replied.
“In the capital city,” she said, and Matthew nodded his head.  “You must be very thankful that he’s in Canada with you.  What about your sister?”
“She plays field hockey at the University of Virginia.”
Matthew watched as Effie furrowed her brows.  “She can play sports and go to university?  That’s a thing?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Matthew smiled, chuckling slightly.  “She’s a great field hockey player.  She committed to the school when she was a junior – when she was sixteen – and now she’s finally on campus.  She’s going to school too, obviously.  That’s the most important thing.  But she’s also playing Division 1 field hockey.”
Effie nodded her head, considering all the things Matthew had just said.  Women could go to university – she knew that now thanks to Jenna and Geneviève.  But…women could play sports and go to university?  Women could play sports for their university?  That was new information.  Effie thought about girls playing hockey and whether or not they could do the same thing.  She thought to Levi watching Toronto Raptors games at home and wondering if women could do the same thing with basketball.  She had not been allowed to play sports.  Anything more than running, women were not allowed to do.  Taryn had been sixteen and had committed to play field hockey for a university.  When Effie was sixteen, she was definitely not doing that.  “Your sister is very lucky,” she said softly.  “To be able to do that.  She’s very lucky.”
Matthew knew there was weight behind those words.  They weren’t to be taken lightly.  He could only imagine what Effie was up to when she was sixteen years old as opposed to Taryn.  “She knows,” Matthew said.  “Taryn’s a really smart girl.  She knows she’s really lucky.”
“It’s kind of nice how in the normal world, women can go to university, and get an education, and play sports, and do whatever they want, and wait to have their children,” Effie said.
Matthew shrugged.  “If they even want kids at all.  I know some of my friends back home don’t want them.  Nobody says women have to have them,” he said it like a throwaway comment, looking down at his plate to grab a fry and dip it in some ketchup.
Silence.  Pure silence from Effie.  He stuck his fry in his mouth and noticed how quiet it got and he looked up with half the fry in his mouth and half the fry still between his fingers, like a dumbass, only to see Effie staring at him with a blank look on her face.  When he looked closer, he saw her eyes were glossy.  He gulped.  “Wh…What do you mean that women don’t have to have children?” she asked.
Matthew chose his words carefully.  He should have known.  He should have fucking known, but he just had to go open his big mouth.  Now, he realized the words he was about to say would change Effie’s perception of things dramatically.  The last thing he intended was for the conversation to swerve in a direction like this, but they were here now, and he had to live with it.  Own up to his actions.  Be the person he promised himself he would be around her.  “So, like…women in modern society have the choice.  They can choose not to have children.  Some women don’t want to become mothers.  It’s a personal choice.  And nowadays, women don’t feel as pressured to have families.  Like, maybe they want to pursue a career instead, but it’s not even that.  You can just…not want children.”
Effie had heard the word of God her entire life.  It was the first thing she remembered; it was her earliest memory.  Some days – on bad days – it was her only memory, the thing that haunted her most at night, and she’d toss and turn in her bed to try and get the rolls and rolls of scripture out of her head.  Be fruitful and multiply.  Be fruitful and multiply.  Be fruitful and multiply.  But this – what Matthew was telling her – this was not the word of God.  This was something else.  This went against everything she knew.  This went against everything she was brought up to believe.  “Oh, okay,” she whispered.  
Matthew could tell he had just said something to Effie that rocked her foundation.  And then he thought to himself ‘Of course this would be happening.  Everything is new for her.’   The modern world was completely alien to her.  She didn’t know anything.  No women’s liberation.  No women’s rights.  No individuality.  Voting.  Elections.  Doctors.  Hospitals.  Jeans.  T-shirts.  Wearing her hair however she wanted.  Makeup.  Cell phones.  Instagram.  Twitter.  Snapchat.  Hockey – literally the most unimportant thing at this point.  She was learning, and making great progress, but things like this – these big ideas – still shook her to her core.  They went against everything she knew and everything she was brought up to believe.  It wasn’t easy for any person to have their foundation cracked; Matthew knew it would be even harder for her.
“Can you excuse me for a second?” Effie said suddenly, not bothering to hear an answer from Matthew before she pushed her chair back and stood up from the table, escaping back into the restaurant.  
Matthew felt like there was cement in his feet as he replayed the moment over and over in his mind, the sight of Effie’s glossy eyes realizing children were optional in the real world burning itself into his mind forever.  God, to find out this way – over bacon cheeseburgers at some restaurant and not in a safe space where she felt comfortable.  To have it be him, a man, that told her this instead of someone like Jenna, or Geneviève, who had been teaching her everything.  He was an idiot.  He was such an idiot.
A jolt of electricity struck through his body and finally jolted him out of his seat, his legs making him run towards the back of the restaurant near the washrooms where he knew Effie went.  “Effie?  Effie?” he called out as he opened the door to the women’s washroom.
When he stepped inside, he saw Effie huddled in a heap on the floor, her knees to her chest as tears flowed down her face.  Her skin was red and blotchy and he could see her chest heaving up and down.  “Effie—” he bent down to be at eye level with her.
“I need you to take me home.”
“Effie—” he reached out to touch her.
The second – the millisecond, the nanosecond – that Effie felt his touch for the first time, her entire body flinched so violently away from him that it scared him.  Matthew recoiled his hand quickly as his breath caught in his throat.  “I’m sorry—I’msosorry—I’m so sorry—” he stuttered out.  
She was silent as she looked at him for a moment through her tears.  There was a look of pure fear in her eyes that Matthew hadn’t seen before, not even the first time he met her at Noah’s birthday at the steakhouse.  “What if women can’t have children?” she asked, her voice so small and frail that it broke Matthew’s heart.
He struggled to find the words because it was such a simple concept for him but such a complicated one for her.  “That’s…that’s not their fault,” he said calmly, but the tone of obviousness was still apparent.  
“What do you mean it’s not their fault?” Effie’s tone was incredulous, like a seven-year-old child learning prematurely that there was no Santa Claus.
“It’s not their fault, Effie,” he reiterated, not knowing how else to explain it.  “I…it’s not their fault.  It can be a medical thing.  I mean most of the time it is, if they can’t have children.  And it’s not their fault,” he just kept repeating it.
“What if…what if women don’t want to have children, but can?  Are…are they punished?” she asked.
“Why would they be punished?  No,” he shook his head.
“Matthew…” she was apprehensive.  “Are you telling the truth?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you Effie,” he said softly, wanting so desperately to just reach out and touch her, hug her, but knowing that if he did, he’d just inflict more fear in her.  “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s the truth.  Some women can’t have children, and some of them don’t want children, and both of those things are perfectly okay.”  He watched as the tears streamed down her face as she stared him in the eye.  Shaking.  
Then it finally hit him like a ton of bricks.  
“Effie…” he said uneasily.
“There were seven.”
The words hung in the air for an unknown amount of time.  It could have been years for all Matthew knew.  But as he stared into Effie’s eyes, he felt an incredible pain in his heart; a pain reserved only for her, that only she could give him.  He thought of how she kept all her own pain inside her constantly, how the trauma was a part of her just as her hair, her fingers, her toes were.  She carried this with her every single day.  Every.  Single.  Day.
“It’s not your fault, Effie,” he whispered.  He knew better than to try to reach out and touch her again.  So he settled on words, because words were his best option.  “It’s not your fault.”
***
“Did you really think you’d be able to come to a therapist’s office and think you’d be able to discuss a patient?”
Matthew stared at Dr. Jessica Barlow sitting across from him – her seated on her plush chair, him sitting on the couch he was sure all her patients sat on – and he didn’t really appreciate her tone of voice.  So maybe it wasn’t the most flawless plan.  Maybe there were holes.  But he was there, damnit, and there for a good reason.  The best reason.  She was the best psychotherapist that specialized in cults in Alberta – probably in western Canada, judging by how many degrees and certificates and awards she had displayed in her office.  She was the best and most qualified person to help Effie, surely, which is why Effie met with her three times a week.  That meant she was also the best and most qualified person to help Matthew.
“Maybe,” he mumbled out.  Matthew would have been intimidated, but for some reason, he wasn’t.  Even considering they were alone in her office, even considering he’d never met or been to a therapist before, he wasn’t nervous or intimidated.  He was determined.  “I need you tell me what I need to do.  Tell me.  Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“For who?”
“Effie Schaffer.”
Dr. Barlow looked incredulous, like a mix between seeing a ghost and not believing the words that were coming out of Matthew’s mouth.  But then he watched as her face softened slightly, and turn inquisitive instead of suspicious.  “You’re Matthew,” she said, framing it as a statement more than a question.
He knew what that meant.  “Effie’s told you about me?” he asked.
It was a lost cause – he knew that the second the question left his lips, because he knew Dr. Barlow wouldn’t tell him a word.  Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.  If dentists couldn’t even talk about their patients, there was no way in hell a psychotherapist who worked with cult survivors would say a peep about anything.  “Effie’s opened up to you quite a bit, hasn’t she?”
Matthew leaned in.  “Yes.  That’s why I need you to help me.  I want – I need to know how to help her.”
“Matthew,” Dr. Barlow took off her glasses.  “First you need to tell me why you want to do this,” she said matter-of-factly.  
Matthew didn’t want this to become a session.  It wasn’t about him; it was about Effie.  “I’ve just become her friend, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately, and—and I just want to know what I can do to help her get even better.”
“Because you’re her friend.”
“Yes.”
“Because you care about her.”
“Well, yes.  I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about her in any capacity.”
Dr. Barlow paused.  “It’s not that simple, Mr. Tkachuk—”
“Why not?” he asked, interrupting her.  “She’s leaps and bounds better than when she escaped!  At least according to her brother!” he defended himself.  “Listen, I know it hasn’t been a long time that I’ve known her but I – damnit, I can help her.  I can help her but I don’t want to hurt her – I never want that to happen ever again, even if it’s by accident, and you need to tell me.  You need to tell me how I can do that so I can actually do it.”
Dr. Barlow stayed silent.  “You’ve already been incredibly patient with her,” she chose her words wisely.  Matthew could read between the lines.  So maybe Effie spoke about him more than he initially thought.  “We should just leave it at that.  I appreciate the effort, but—"
“She told me how there were seven,” he said, his voice steady and calm but firm and resolute.  When he looked up at Dr. Barlow, she was staring back at him with a stoic yet shocked look on her face.  “She told me there were seven, and when I tried to—to console her, to touch her, the way her body jumped away from mine…I…” he trailed off.  He rubbed his fingers against his lips nervously.
“So then you know and realize that Effie was a member of a religious cult where she was routinely raped by its leader so he could impregnate her with the son of God for almost five years.”
It was the first time the word had been said out loud.  He didn’t want to repeat it.  He wanted it burned from his memory, from Effie’s memory, from the dictionary, everywhere.  He knew it happened but he didn’t want to admit it to himself.  Saying the word out loud made it different; it made it real.  It made him acutely aware of the trauma Effie had been through, and how she didn’t deserve any of it, yet she was burdened with it for the rest of her life.  He was biting down on his bottom lip so hard he thought he’d draw blood.  “Yes,” he said curtly.  “I realize.”
“I know how close – relatively – you and Effie have gotten ever since you were introduced.  Her progress has increased dramatically since it,” Dr. Barlow began, again choosing her words wisely.  “I know everything you two talk about on your Starbucks dates.  I know you introduced her to candy and watched Little Women with her.  Matthew – I’m not telling you this because I’m making some point that Effie tattles and tells me everything about her relationship with you.  I’m telling you this because you’ve already been doing what you need to do.  You didn’t need to come here and ask me for specifics.”
“But I don’t want to hurt her,” Matthew said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “What happened that day when she told me and when—when I tried to touch her…”
“It might take a while for her body not to seize up anytime a man touches her,” Dr. Barlow said.  “That doesn’t mean she’s not making progress.  It’s the mental progress we want to see.  And it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong, either.  Just give her time, Matthew.  Exercise patience with her.”
***
The next time Matthew saw Effie, she didn’t know he was coming.  But he called Levi and made sure it was okay, and so when he descended down the stairs into the basement and saw Effie’s bedroom door opened, he took a deep breath.  He collected himself.  And he moved forward.  He knew he didn’t have to do this – any outsider would have said that – but he knew he needed to do it.  He needed to make it right.
“Effie?” he knocked lightly on her door before stepping into the door frame, finding her sitting at her desk reading something.  
She turned her head to look at him and a smile appeared on her face.  It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders to see her smiling.  He didn’t exactly think she’d be cradled in a corner crying, but he did think that maybe she wouldn’t be happy to see him.  It was a relief.  “Hi Matthew.”
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Of course,” she nodded, pushing her desk chair out as he walked in slowly.  “How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been okay…” he said, biting down on his bottom lip nervously.  “How—I mean, have you been okay since that day?”
He saw something flash behind her eyes – a memory of the tears, the feeling, the questions.  He knew he relived it every other minute since it happened because he felt so guilty about it.  He wondered if Effie relived it every moment too and whether or not it brought her constant pain.  Matthew would never forgive himself if it did.  “I’ve been good.  Learned a lot, as you can imagine,” she joked slightly.  “I read up on what we talked about.  Geneviève helped me.”
“So you know it’s a thing now.”
Effie nodded.  “It made me realize I never want children.”
Matthew should have been shocked by that statement, but he wasn’t.  Knowing what Effie had been through, he understood why she wouldn’t want them.  It was her choice to make and hers only, and nobody could or should influence her otherwise.  “That’s good.  Good that you can…you know, say that out loud.  That you’re not forced into something you don’t want anymore.”
Effie nodded her head.  “I knew it all along.  I mean, children are a blessing, but they’re not for me.  And knowing the way I was brought up, with abuse and no loving parenting from my parents or from anyone around me, I don’t want to pass that legacy on.  I’m too scared to fall back into that.  I’d have no idea how to raise a child.  I know that now,” she said, watching as Matthew walked further into the room and lean back slightly on her desk.  She looked up at him.  There was a moment of silence between them as they were just there, staring at each other in her bedroom.  Effie tried not to get lost in his blue eyes.  She wondered if he could see past her calm exterior.  “I’m sorry that I flinched away from you that day,” she said quietly.  
“I should be the one apologizing—”
“No,” she said as sternly as she could, getting him to stop.  “You don’t have to apologize for anything.  You didn’t hurt me that day, so don’t think you did.  I just…I get apprehensive about touch, because we weren’t allowed to, and because once I finally was, it wasn’t…nice,” she revealed, knowing he’d get the point.  “But I know that your touch is nice.”
“How do you know?” Matthew asked.
“Because you’re a nice person.”
She took it upon herself to look at his hands.  They were on either side of his body, gripping her desk just in case it collapsed under his weight or something – who knows.  But they were there, exposed, for her to look at.  They were big – bigger than Abraham’s – and younger, of course, rougher around the edges due to hockey but still better than the only other pair of hands she’d had experience with.
He caught her looking.  Slowly, almost painstakingly slowly, he brought his right hand up and opened it, palm facing her, fingers pointing up towards the sky.  He watched as Effie brought her hand up too, even slower than he had, opening it up and facing her palm towards his.  There were a few moments where she was stagnant, thinking about how this was the first time she was going to touch a man other than her predator fake husband or her brother.  Then she moved her hand closer.  Closer.  Closer.
When she finally touched Matthew – when she finally touched him – a million electric bolts ran through her body.  The feeling of his skin on hers, his delicate yet rough touch as she pressed her small hand into his large one so she could feel his entire hand on her hand – it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.  The simplest action gave her the most surreal feeling.  There were no words for it.  No words, in fact, because all she could do was smile.  A big, wide smile, spanning from ear to ear as she kept her hand against his.
Matthew smiled too.  
***
“This was a very quick progression from ‘Can women get tattoos?’ to ‘I’m getting a tattoo’, you know,” Geneviève laughed as she and Annica watched Effie take a seat in the tattooist’s chair.  The tattoo artist, a young woman with sleeves of her own, was preparing everything appropriately as the women chatted.  “The turnover rate was, what, a week?”
“Less,” Annica giggled.  
“When I went to the orthodontist’s when I was ten, I saw a man there with his entire arm covered in tattoos.  I was so scared I started crying.  I asked the prophet about it when I got back to Sheerness and he said they were marks of sinners and that the devil influenced them,” Effie laughed along with them.  “But I see them on people at Starbucks all the time.  I think they look really nice.”
“And you’re absolutely sure you want what you’ve requested?  You’re not gonna regret it, right?” Annica wanted to make sure Effie was making the right decision.
Effie nodded her head emphatically.  “Definitely.  Definitely.”
“What is it?  Can we see it?” Geneviève asked.  
Effie shook her head.  “I want it to be a surprise,” she said, biting her lip.  “You guys don’t think I’m crazy, do you?  Doing this to my body?”
“Absolutely not,” Geneviève replied automatically, her tone telling Effie that the notion was absurd.  It was nice for Effie to know that the two women in front of her would never judge her.  It was nice to know a woman could be supported in her decisions, and not be told it would make God angry and that she was sinning and going against the prophet.  “It’s your body, remember?  Your body, your choice.”
Effie nodded after a moment.  “My body, my choice.”
***
“It’s still a bit red and itchy.  Annica said I need to put an elastic around my wrist and snap it whenever I want to itch it,” Effie said, her voice filled with excitement but a certain anxiousness that was characteristic to her.  
“It’s alright.  Just show me,” Matthew smiled as he watched her roll up the sleeve of her cardigan.  When she finally did, and stretched out her arm, Matthew’s mouth gaped open.  “It’s huge!” he exclaimed, definitely not expecting it to be that big.  He thought Effie would get a dainty tattoo; something small.  He didn’t exactly think she’d have a “go big or go home” attitude about a tattoo – something on her body forever.  But it was big.  It took up at least two-thirds of her forearm.  The linework and shading were impeccable; the detail exquisite.  It was made up of flowers – he didn’t know what kind – but they were big and small, all sizes really, and there were a few leaves, a few stems, and it just looked so beautiful.  He brought his hand up to touch, but stopped himself.  “Can I?” he asked.
Effie nodded.  “You can touch me,” she said, preparing herself.
Matthew brought his hand up slowly.  He touched her arm, grazing his fingertips over the linework delicately.  It was still bumpy, a testament to how new it was.  “It looks amazing, Effie,” he whispered, his fingers still grazing delicately.  
“You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”
“The best part?” he arched his eyebrow.  What could be better than this?
She turned her arm over, palm facing up, where another large flower was tattooed on her skin.  Matthew noticed some handwriting along the flower, and he leaned his head down to read it.  ‘I am mine before I am anyone else’s’.
Matthew smiled from ear to ear.  “Effie,” he whispered bashfully, just like he had when he saw that she cut her hair short for the first time.  He was so bashful because he was so happy to be seeing her making her own decisions for once in her life.  “Do you love it?” he asked.
She nodded enthusiastically.  “I love it so much.  It’s mine.  It’s mine.”
***
“Did Jenna make these?” Matthew asked Levi once he was done with his stretches, noticing a giant Tupperware filled with some sort of cookies.  Matthew had seen some of the other guys in the locker room with them and decided to investigate.  He took a massive bite of one and his entire mouth watered.  In that short moment, he was sure he’d never had a cookie so good in his life.  “These are phenomenal,” he said with a full mouth.
“Nah, Jenna’s not a baker,” Levi shook his head.  “Effie made those.”
Matthew’s brows rose.  He gulped the bite of the cookie down.  “Effie?  Effie bakes?”
Levi smirked, side-eyeing him.  “Effie knows how to make and churn butter from scratch.  She had to learn in the cult.  She knows how to bake and cook a lot of things because she had to be a traditional wife.  But she enjoys baking the most.  Baking is what brings her the most joy, so she’s started baking again.”
Matthew nodded nonchalantly.  “She can bake all kinds of stuff then?”
“Bread, sweet stuff…yeah, pretty much,” he said.  “She actually…well, she’s trying to find a job where she can put it to good use, since she actually likes doing it.”
“Effie’s getting a job?!” Matthew exclaimed, louder than he intended.  Levi could only chuckle.  Matthew felt the need to cover.  “Where?  What—where?  What’s she gonna do?  How is she—I mean, why?”
“She’s gotta support herself, doesn’t she?  If she wants to move out, or earn her own money—”
“Effie’s moving out?!”
“She’s not moving out tomorrow, Matthew, but she’s going to be moving out soon.”
This was all news to Matthew, of course.  He tried to play it cool, calming himself down and not making a big deal out of it – well, more than he already had.  The fact that Levi, Jenna, and Effie were discussing jobs and moving out had absolutely nothing to do with him.  He was just on the outside.  He didn’t need to be part of the decision making at all…at all.  But he still got nervous.  Effie was still learning about a lot.  And ultimately, at the end of the day, he wanted her to be safe.  A safe job.  A safe apartment.  “Where’s she looking?”
“There’s a cute little hipster coffee shop in the downtown core she has an interview with,” Levi informed him.  “If she gets the job, and if she enrols in the online business certificate program Geneviève recommended to her, I promised to pay three months worth of rent until she can pay it on her own.  She’d earn enough from minimum wage and tips for sure, especially downtown.”
Hipster coffee shop.  Online business certificate.  New apartment.  There was so much new information coming at Matthew that he didn’t know how to process it all.  He was happy for Effie – he was – and he wished her only the best, but it was still a lot.  “Well…when you need help moving, call me and we could put these muscles to work,” he said, flexing his arm for dramatic effect, trying to hide the fact that he so obviously cared, and miserably failing to hide that fact to Levi.
Levi let out a haughty laugh.  “I’ll be sure to mention it.”
***
Matthew downed a shot of tequila – the good tequila – and smashed his shot glass down on the bar as the smooth liquid coated his throat and made his stomach burn.  Noah let out a loud ‘Wooooo!’ and Sean, ever the dumbass, choked on it as it went down.  Matthew almost spit up the shot out of laughter watching Sean struggle to swallow it, picking up his glass of whisky the bartender had just poured.  “You’re already wrecked, buddy,” Matthew chastised him as he got control of his coughs.  “You’re embarrassing.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Sean sneered.  “We all know you’re trying to get all your alcohol in before Effie gets here.”
Matthew chuckled.  “Fat chance of that happening.  Effie’s not coming.”
Sean rolled his eyes.  “Well, either I’m high or you’re wrong, because she just walked in the door.”
Matthew’s back stiffened as he whipped his head around to look through the crowd of people.  Sure enough, he could see Effie raising her hand to chest level so the bouncer at the door could stamp her hand.  Noah made a noise that sounded like a seagull and Sean let out a chuckle and a muffled “Dude owes me a fucking drink for that one”.  Before Matthew’s legs could move him forward, he noticed Meredith approach Effie; she hugged her and Effie allowed Meredith to grab her hand so she could guide her through the crowd and into their spot at the back of the lounge.  The music was loud and the floor felt like it was vibrating but it was nothing compared to the beat of Matthew’s heart.
Fuck.
When Meredith and Effie finally made their way through, he saw that Effie was wearing Jenna’s ballet flats, skinny jeans that were still a bit big, and a sequined top that fit so big any other girls in the club would have probably worn it as a dress.  He could feel the whisky burning his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.
“Effiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!!!!!” Claudia squealed once she noticed her, sauntering over to her in her high heels and bending down to hug her.  “You made it!  I’m sooooo happy!” she continued squealing.  Matthew wondered if Effie noticed that Claudia was already drunk.  “Is this your first time in a place like this?”
“Yeah,” Effie nodded her head nervously.  “I’m sorry—I—I know I wasn’t supposed to be here and I said no, but—”
“Are you kidding?  The more the merrier!  Let me take you to Andrew so you can say happy birthday!”
Matthew watched as Claudia led her to Andrew, tapping him on the shoulder to reveal Effie.  Andrew was happy to see her, and – knowing better than to go in for a hug – politely held his hand against his heart when she wished him a happy birthday.  None of the guys on the team had ever touched her – well, except Matthew.  He seemed to be the exception to a lot of things regarding Effie, and he was proud of that.  He didn’t want anyone else touching her, even if they were his teammates.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
“You came alone?” Andrew asked her.  Effie nodded.  “We’ll have to find you Matthew then.  He’d kill us if we didn’t tell him you were here.”
Matthew didn’t know what Andrew was saying – the music was too loud, and he couldn’t read lips – but the cement in his legs finally dissolved and he found himself walking over to them, wanting to make his presence known at that very moment.  When Effie saw him, he could swear her face lit up.  “Fancy seeing you here, Effie,” he smiled, holding his glass of whisky near his chest.
She went in for a hug.
Matthew was so shocked he almost didn’t hug her back.  Even Andrew was looking at them like he’d just seen a monkey perform a magic trick.  Matthew draped both arms around her and hugged her back, making sure not to spill his whisky all over her.  He tried not to let it seem like he was shocked – hugs should be a normal thing for Effie, he thought – so when she pulled away, he was already smiling down at her.  “What brought you here?”
“I wanted to see what these places are like,” she said when she pulled away.  She took a look down at his drink.  “Is that iced tea?”
“Whiskey.”
She looked around at everyone else, noticing they were all holding glasses with drinks in them too.  “Is everybody drinking alcohol?”
“Pretty much,” Matthew giggled out.
“I’ve never drunk alcohol before,” she revealed.
“Do you want to try some?”
“No,” she shook her head.  “I’m not ready.”
“That’s okay.  Do you want something to drink, then?  Some water?  I’m sure the bar can make you a virgin drink if you ask for it.”
“A virgin drink?”
“Virgin means no alcohol,” Matthew covered quickly.  “They’ll make you whatever you want.”
Matthew watched as Effie considered it, looking over to the bar before she shook her head.  “I’m not thirsty yet.  I’ll go when I’m thirsty.”
***
Effie didn’t dance.  She didn’t drink.  All she did was look.
By looking, she was learning.  She watched how people interacted with one another in this type of setting and she internalized it.  She watched girls approach the bar and get served by the bartender.  She watched as guys flirted with them and bought them drinks.  She watched people take shots and then ask for another.  She watched people get handsy, with touches on hips and lower backs and arms the most popular spots she saw men putting their hands on women.  She watched people drag one another towards the dance floor.  She watched kisses being placed on necks and shoulders and lips, tongues dragging across, shocked that people would be doing so out in the open.  She watched girls raise their drinks in the air and kick their leg up as they posed for photos with their friends.  She watched girls move their hips seductively.  She watched guys getting their bodies as close to them as possible.  
“What are they doing?” she asked Matthew as she watched them dancing like a hawk.
“Uh…it’s called grinding.”
She’d talk, and ask questions, and Matthew was beside her the entire time answering her questions and milking his whisky, not caring that he wasn’t partying with Andrew or with the other boys, because when Effie was around, he was all about Effie – nobody else mattered.  He’d stay with her until last call if she wanted to stay that late.  He’d already resolved that he’d be going home when she was going home because he needed to make sure she got back to Aspen Woods safe, and also because there was no reason to be at the club when Effie was gone.
Did he hear himself?  Did he really just say there was no reason to be at a club full of beautiful girls during his friend’s birthday?
Fuck.  
Noah, Sean, and Johnny ended up coming back to the booth for some water.  Johnny made eyes at Matthew and Matthew subtly gave him the finger; Effie didn’t notice because she was looking over at the bar.  “I’m thirsty.  I’m going to go get a drink.”
“Let me go for y—”
“No,” she said sternly as Matthew was about to get up, standing up herself and holding her hand out.  “I’ve watched.  I know what I need to do.  I can go.”
Matthew gulped.  He didn’t want to deny her independence but he didn’t want her to go alone. “Are you sure?” he asked.  She nodded, and Matthew had to let her go.  And all he did was look.
***
Effie approached the bar slowly, trying not to get shoved around by people crowding around the bar.  It was much busier actually being in the crowd than just looking at it, and Effie was almost regretting her decision.  She’s never been in a place with so many people.  Well, that was a lie, maybe – church was always busy, obviously, especially the church for the People’s Dominion.  Sundays were the worst.  But there were definitely not this many young people congregated in one place.  Effie knew this is what young people did in the normal world – Geneviève told her so.  It was one thing to know about it, to be apart from it in a different area and watch; it was something completely different, actually being in it.  
She made her way to right behind a few people at the bar – some scantily clad girls with some really pretty dresses on.  Effie admired their beauty.  They had beautiful long eyelashes and their lips were red and berry-coloured.  Their skin was flawless and tanned – weird for April in Calgary, but tanned nonetheless.  Effie wondered if they were wearing makeup, and wondered whether or not she’d ever wear makeup herself.  When they got their drinks, they began to move.  One of them noticed Effie behind them and gave her a quick up-down.  “Take our place, sweetie,” she said, letting Effie move into their place before she watched them make their way through the crowd and back onto the dance floor.
After watching, she knew now she had to get the attention of one of the bartenders.  Every single one of them was busy pouring drinks.  She watched as a couple of men on the opposite end of the bar raised their hands and the bartenders went over to them, so she decided to do the same.  After a few minutes, a bartender came.  “What can I get you?”
“Um, water please.”
“You driving tonight, darling?”
Effie shook her head.  “I don’t drive.  I just don’t drink alcohol.”
“Do you want anything more exciting?  I mean I can at least get you ginger ale or a coke.”
Effie didn’t like coke – she thought it was too sweet – but when he mentioned ginger ale, she reconsidered.  “Okay.  Ginger ale is good.”
The bartender nodded, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice before getting the drink gun.  “Do you have a tab going?”
What was a tab?  Effie shook her head.  “What’s a tab?”
The bartender looked at her skeptically.  “How are you paying, darling?  Are you with a party?”
“Oh!  I’m here for Andrew’s party!  Andrew Mangiapane.”
“Got it,” the bartender winked.  “Here you go, darling.  Enjoy.”
Effie grabbed the drink and took a sip out of the straw.  It was nice and cold, just the way she liked it.  Just as she was about to leave and go back to Matthew, a big body slipped into the empty space beside her.  A man – a very large man, it seemed, though she was so small that every man looked large to her – took up all the space.  He was looking down at her with a very, very amused expression on his face.  “Ginger ale, girl?” he mocked her.
Effie couldn’t tell.  “What’s wrong with ginger ale?”
“You’re gonna come out to a bar looking like a walking felon and order ginger ale?” he pressed, winking at her.
“A walking felon?” she repeating.  She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said.  “A real drink.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Wanna start?”
“No,” she said firmly.
“That’s fine.  I can think of better things we can get up to than drinking, anyways,” he smiled.
Effie furrowed her brows.  “Like what?”
The guy smiled, and it was creepy, and she finally saw behind his eyes every thought and every intention he currently had.  “Let me show you,” he said, and Effie saw, out of the corner of her eye, that he was bringing his hand up to touch her.  At the same time, he was leaning his head down.
“HEY!” a loud voice boomed, and Effie immediately recognized it as Matthew’s.  Before she could even see him or realize where he was coming from, he squeezed his way in between him and the man.  Matthew’s hands were now on her body instead, the man’s hand nowhere near her.  “Get the fuck out of here, buddy.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“You touch her one more time and you’re fucking dead,” Matthew growled.
“Dead, eh?  So you get to touch her but I don’t?”
“Fuck off.”
Effie was taken aback by the anger in Matthew’s voice.  She’d never seen or heard him so angry.  She knew he was capable of it, by how he played hockey, but she didn’t think he’d be able to get this angry in a social setting.  Her body tensed up.  “Can we go back to our booth?” Effie asked loudly, placing her hand on Matthew’s, hoping to get his attention.  
Matthew looked back at her quickly, and when he saw the trepidation on her face, he immediately listened to her.  As he turned to leave, pushing Effie ahead of him with his hands still on her waist guiding her, he heard the man make one last call out to Effie.  “You don’t want to have some fun, girl?  I can show you a better time than this dick with my dick!”
Matthew had had it.  He knew he couldn’t punch out a guy in a bar.  He knew he couldn’t do much without causing a scene and the cops getting called and everything getting out of hand.  So instead, he used everything at his disposal to make his point, the most important thing being his size.  He turned around and flexed, standing up straight and making himself as physically big as possible, bumping up against the guy on the chest and backing him up against the bar.  He had only a few inches on the guy, but he was suddenly intimidated.  “You even so much as breathe in her general direction and I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth down your throat,” Matthew growled, making fists with his hands.  He didn’t even wait for the guy to say anything.  Instead, he just turned and walked away, noticing Effie waiting for him in the crowd.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“It’s fine,” he said curtly, leading her out of the crowd and back to the booth.
“Are you sure, Matthew?”
“Positive,” he mumbled as they finally got to the booth.
Effie turned around to get a good look at him.  She knew he was lying because she could see how angry he was on his face.  She got nervous – really nervous.  “Matthew—”
“Did he touch you?  He didn’t touch you, did he?” Matthew demanded.  He needed the answer to be no so he could calm down.  
“Please don’t be mad at me.”
Everything in Matthew suddenly cleared.  All he saw – all he was able to see – was Effie’s face, and how nervous she was, and how she was looking up at him with a certain tenseness.  “Effie—no—I could never be mad at you.  I’m mad at that guy for being gross.”
He noticed Effie furrow her brows slightly.  “Was he trying to get me to have sex with him?”
“I don’t know.  I don’t know what he wanted.  But he was being gross and the second I saw him wedge his way into the bar I got up.”
Effie nodded.  “But you’re not mad at me, are you?” she asked again.
“Never, Effie.  Never.”
***
Annica had never been more flabbergasted or without words than when Effie asked her to explain what Instagram was.  Geneviève had to step in, giggling as she mixed together the baked feta pasta the girls were having for lunch.  “It’s supposed to be a platform for sharing pictures,” Geneviève explained.  “You know, like the book you’re reading, or where you’re going, if you go on vacation, or if you see something cool, or let’s say you go out to eat and you want to show what you’re eating…that sort of thing.”
“People want to know that stuff?” Effie asked innocently, causing the girls to giggle.  “People want to know that about me?”
“I’d love to follow you on Instagram.  I’d love to see how you see the world,” Geneviève said.  “It would be a breath of fresh air, to be honest.”
“How would it be a breath of fresh air if everybody is doing it?” Effie asked again.
“Everybody’s not doing it.  That’s the point,” Annica said.  “Instagram has transformed into this, like…God, I don’t even know what to call it.  It’s one big advertisement now.”
Effie considered what the girls were telling her.  She trusted them both, which is why she asked.  Annica talked about it a lot, and was on it a lot, which is why Effie became interested in it in the first place.  Geneviève was on it too, of course, running her own account and also having access to the account for her literary magazine Atomic (she’d given Effie a bunch of old copies to read through, and she was going to devour them right after she finished Geneviève’s book, which was technically a collection of essays).  For a girl who just wanted to be as normal as possible, it seemed to her like Instagram was the logical next step.  “Can…can you guys help me make a profile?”
“Of course,” Annica said as all three of them sat down at the table.  “We can do it after lunch.”
“I’m not your therapist, but you should use it to chronicle your journey and what you’re doing outside of the cult now,” Geneviève offered.  “That’s what I meant when I said I’d love to see how you see the world.  You can post all the things you’ve been baking recently, or the pretty things you see in Calgary when you’re out and about on one of your walks.”
The second that Geneviève mentioned ‘chronicle your journey’, it was like a switch went off in Effie’s brain.  She nodded her head.  “That’s what I’m gonna do.  Let’s make a profile after lunch.”
***
FOLLOW REQUEST: effieschaffer7
You have accepted effieschaffer7’s friend request.
Effie?????
Hi Matthew
U made an insta?
Is it okay if I follow you? Annica helped me
Yes of course it’s okay if u follow me
I am going to post my baking I think
That’s good! I will have to try some one day
When you get back from the road trip there will be something new.  Levi requested a lemon meringue pie and you can have some too if you want.
I’m gonna make sure Levi drives us home then
***
It was Effie who swung the door open excitedly.  Matthew was excited to try the lemon meringue pie, but apparently she was excited about something else.  Her eyes were as wide as the moon and as bright as the sun.  “I got the job!” she screamed.  
Levi dropped his bag as he screamed, catching her as she jumped from the doorway into his arms.  Matthew started cheering too and started clapping; it was only then that Effie even remembered he was standing there, but he really didn’t mind.  “Congratulations, Effie!” he smiled from ear to ear.  “Look at you go!”
She let go of her brother, but still held on to his arms.  “That means I can get the apartment!  That means I can pay for the tuition for the business program!  That means…I…I’m just so excited!”  She looked over at Matthew, seeing his smile, and did the unexpected.  
She hugged him.  She jumped into his arms just like she did with her brother and wrapped her arms around him tightly.  He reciprocated easily, wrapping his own arms around her too.  “That’s amazing, Effie!”
“I just—aaaahhhhheeeeeppppp!” she half yelled-half squealed, letting go of Matthew so they could get back inside.  April in Calgary was still cold.  Both Matthew and Levi set their bags down at the front door and walked straight to the kitchen, following Effie who was practically kicking her heels up.  “I can’t even speak!  I mean, this is—this is me getting to work!  I get to work!  I get to make my own living and make my own money!”
“You should be really proud of yourself,” Matthew said as he sat down on one of the kitchen stools.  “And you get to do something you like to do!  Not a lot of people get to say that.”
She nodded enthusiastically, opening the fridge.  “Here, try this,” she said, taking out the lemon meringue pie she had promised them.  “The owner of the coffee shop said I’m going to start with cookies and brownies and small stuff like that, and then maybe I can expand,” she said.
She cut the pie, plated it for her brother and Matthew, and handing them forks.  Matthew dug in automatically, shoving a giant piece in his mouth.  The second it hit his tongue, he groaned.  “Oh…oh Effie…” he said in between chews.  “This is gonna be dangerous.”
“Is it good?”
“You may need to bake me something every day, now, Effie.  Either that or I’m gonna come visit you every day.”
***
“Piiiiiiivvvooottttt!!!!!”
“If you say that one more time, I’m gonna kill you,” Matthew screamed at Sean holding the other end of the couch at the bottom of the stairs.  
“Piiiiiiiiivvv—”
“Monahan!”
“Is everything okay, boys?” Effie’s sweet voice asked from the top of the stairs, popping her head out of her brand new apartment.  
“We’re fine!” Matthew called out, not wanting her to worry.  “Monahan is just being a jackass!”
“Am not!”
They got the couch upstairs.  They got the bedframe upstairs.  They got the mattress upstairs.  In a little one-bedroom apartment above a storefront on 8th Avenue SW in downtown Calgary, Effie Schaffer was moving in.  Well, Effie was in her apartment unpacking boxes and organizing everything.  Levi, Matthew, Sean, and Jacob were helping move in her furniture.  She was going to thank them gracefully with another pie – this time, she’d experimented with a banana cream pie with salty bourbon caramel.  It was in the fridge waiting.  Each of them would get a nice big slice.
Geneviève came over for a bit, helping Effie with organizing the kitchen.  And Jenna dropped by after work, making sure everything was in order.  Jacob and his piece of pie left with Geneviève, and Levi and his piece of pie left once he knew everything was in order, and Sean and his piece of pie left after he and Matthew had finished putting the couch together.  Matthew hadn’t left with his piece of pie yet.  Matthew stayed.  
“This apartment is so great for you, Effie,” he said as he sat down on the couch, admittedly exhausted from all the hauling but despite that, still not wanting to leave.  There was so much to do and say and admire with Effie now that people weren’t around, and though he’d never admit it out loud to them, he always wanted to be alone with her.  It was different when he was alone with her.  With other people around, he couldn’t stare at her too long without being caught, or they couldn’t talk about things from their previous conversations that only they knew about.  With people gone, they could.  He’d stay until Effie told him to go home; if she would even tell him to go home.  He was unsure if she knew she could tell people to leave because she was tired or just wanted to be alone.
“Tomorrow Levi and I are going to go to the mall to get me a laptop for school,” she said, opening her fridge.  “My course starts in June.  It’s going to be really exciting.”
“That’s great,” he said, looking at her from the couch.  “It’s business, right?”
She nodded her head enthusiastically.  “Business administration.  Are you going to come try this pie or what?”
Matthew hauled his sore body off the couch and made his way towards the kitchen, standing next to Effie as she sliced a piece of the pie for him.  He reached over her head and grabbed two plates from the cupboard, setting them down.  Their bodies were close – purposely, he had to admit selfishly, on his part – so that every time she turned the pie and made a slice, her arm and elbow would touch him.  He watched as she carefully plated the slices.
Before she moved to grab the forks, she looked up at Matthew.  “Can I try something?” she asked timidly.
He furrowed his brows slightly.  “Of course.”
Effie hesitated, looking Matthew in the eye, wondering if she should really go through with what’s been on her mind since Andrew’s birthday party.  She resolved with herself to never let fear get in the way of her making a decision in her new life, especially now that she was free to make those decisions.  So she did it.  She did what she wanted to do.
Effie Schaffer stood on her tip-toes and kissed Matthew Tkachuk.  
It was light, chaste, and pure; no tongue, no longer than three seconds, and no warning.  But she kissed him.  With her eyes closed.  And for the first time in a long, long, long time, when she closed her eyes and kissed someone her body didn’t seize up.  When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t think of the other kisses she had to endure rather than enjoy.  When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t see Abraham.  Matthew’s lips were much softer; there was nothing about him like was like Abraham, not one atom on his body.  She liked it that way.  And the fact that she didn’t remember her past life when it happened made it all the better for her.
Matthew, for his part, was shocked.  Shocked that she, Effie Schaffer, who grew up abused in a cult and didn’t start wearing pants until just a few months ago, would do something so forward.  He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to happen, because he did, against all of his better judgement and the rational side of his brain telling him not to.  “Was that okay for you?” he asked softly.
Effie nodded.  “Of course it was.  I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it would be okay for me.”
Matthew’s word vomit got the best of him.  “Do you think it—”
“Don’t talk to me like you’re my therapist please,” she said quickly.  “Talk to me like you’re a guy.”
“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.
Effie looked down, suddenly nervous.  She wasn’t second-guessing her decision to kiss him, but what she was doing now was wondering what Matthew thought of it.  He’d kissed her back.  He didn’t just stand there and take the kiss – he kissed her back.  He moved his lips too.  That meant something, right?  “Matthew?” she finally asked, her voice soft.
“Hmm?”
“Do you like me?” she asked.
“Of course I like you, Effie.”
“No, I mean do you…do you like me.  Like how boys like girls sometimes.”
Matthew looked her in the eye, his entire ego dropping to the pits of his stomach.  Having the completely inability to be able to lie to her, he gave her a quick nod of the head.  “Yeah, I do.”
Effie bit her bottom lip.  She didn’t know a lot, but she knew this was a huge moment.  But she swallowed hard, her thoughts getting the best of her.  “Even after everything that happened to me?”
Matthew’s heart broke.  It always did when he spoke with Effie.  “Of course,” he said simply.  “You’re not what happened to you.  You’re so much more than that, Effie.”
Effie nodded her head.  She knew that.  Dr. Barlow, Levi, Jenna, Geneviève – everyone important in her life had been telling her that.  She knew it was true, but she needed to hear the words from Matthew.  She couldn’t just assume them.  “I want to let you know that was the first time in my life that I’ve initiated…physical contact with a man,” she said quietly, her voice just above a whisper.  “I did it…I did it with you because I feel comfortable with you.  I wouldn’t have even thought about doing that a year ago but…but you’ve really helped me these past few months, and you make me feel so comfortable to try new things like corn dogs or kissing.  Even just…you know, touching.  I just want you to know that.”
Matthew nodded.  This was huge.  He was pretty sure he hadn’t let out a breath since her lips met his.  “I hope you always feel comfortable around me.”
“I think I will,” she said, smiling slightly.  
Matthew smiled.  “Well, in that case, can I kiss you again?”
“No.”
Matthew chuckled to himself.  Her deadpan delivery dissolved everything.  She was in total control.  “Fair enough.”
Effie moved to grab the forks from the drawer she was standing in front of.  Before she put them on the plates, she looked up at him again.  “But if I kissed you again, would you like it?”
Matthew nodded his head.  “Would you?”
Effie nodded her head.  
***
“What about this?” Matthew asked, pointing to a fake plant hanging from a little black pot.  “Everybody loves fake plants.”
Ikea had a lot of options – too many, if Effie was being honest.  But she nodded her head, and Matthew took the initiative to grab the plant and put it in the cart.  There were a bunch of frames already in there, and some decorative stuff for her new place.  “Matthew?” she looked up at him.
“Hmm?” he looked down.
She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.
***
“I’ve got an Americano with room for milk for Matthew!” the barista called out, setting the drink down on the counter.  Matthew approached to grab his drink, bringing it to the other station where he was able to pour in his milk and two packs of brown sugar before popping the lid on.  He rejoined Effie.
“Does it feel like you’re cheating when I bring you to Starbucks?” he asked her in a light-hearted tone.
“Matthew?” she looked up at him.
“Hmm?” he was already looking down.
She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.
***
“I think these are your best ones yet,” Matthew said through a mouth full of chocolate-dipped almond biscotti.  Effie was trying out recipes.  He was her unofficial-official taste-tester.  The whole team was, really.  And if they sold well in the coffee shop, the manager would allow her to expand.  So far, so good.  “I love the almond flavour.  It’s there but it’s not too strong, you know?”
He watched as Effie nodded her head.  “Matthew?” she asked, looking at him eye-to-eye since he was sitting down on one of the stools in her kitchen.
He knew what was coming.
She leaned forward and kissed him.  His lips tasted like almonds.
***
“Are you excited for the movie?” Matthew asked as he poured the popcorn from the steaming hot bag into the bowls Effie got for them.
“Very,” she nodded.  Tonight they’d be watching Emma, the 2020 movie version of Jane Austen’s classic.  Effie liked to see all the amazing clothes the women used to wear.  A part of her wanted to dress up like that now, but she knew she’d get stared at.  The other part of her never wanted to wear a dress again if she didn’t have to.  “Matthew?” she asked.
“Hmm?” he looked down at her.  He knew what was coming.
She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.
***
It was always when the two of them were alone.  It never happened when she would wait for him and Levi and Jacob with Jenna and Geneviève after games.  It never happened if they were ever out with a big group, or even just with Levi and Jenna.  Matthew was sure Effie had told them she was kissing him – she probably told Dr. Barlow too, now that he thought about it – but nobody had ever approached him about it.  “I heard you’ve been kissing Effie.”  
It was always the same, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.  They were alone.  They were usually doing something mundane.  Then Effie would ask “Matthew?” in her soft, sweet voice.  He’d look down at her.  She’d go on her tip-toes, and she’d kiss him.
It was always initiated by her.  
***
“Can I take you out on a date?” Matthew asked one day when they were alone in her apartment.  
Effie looked shocked.  Surprised, even, though Matthew didn’t think the question was out of the ordinary.  “You…you want to go out on a date with me?” she asked.
“Yes, of course I do,” Matthew said, wanting there to be no doubts in her mind.  “You know that I like you, Effie.  I think it’s something that could be really fun for you…for us.”
Effie was deep in thought – Matthew could tell.  She nodded slightly.  “We have been doing a lot of kissing lately…” she mused.  He couldn’t help but smile, even though it faded slightly when she looked up at him nervously.  “Matthew, I—I’ve never been on a date before.”
“I figured as much.”
“I mean, I—even with Abraham.  He never—I mean, I was just told I was marrying him because he wanted me.  I told you that.  But even before that.  Women couldn’t date.  Nobody could—I mean most couples were just thrust together, but—but—women weren’t even allowed in the same room alone with the opposite sex because we’d tempt them.”
“I know Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly.  “Listen, if you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.  But you know that I like you.  And I know you like me too.  It’s what people do when they like each other.  So if you’ll let me, we could go out for dinner or something.  Nothing too big or fancy.  Just a dinner.”
If she went on a date with Matthew, Effie would be giving a giant middle finger to her past.  She would be asserting her agency in making her own choices.  She’d be doing something she wasn’t allowed to do for eighteen years of her life.  It was an action of justice at its very core – going on a date with a boy because she liked him and found him attractive.  She wasn’t even allowed to touch other men besides her husband less than two years ago because of his abusive and totalitarian “sermons”.  She remembered back to her begging to her mother not to get married at fourteen and her mother refusing to listen to her.  Here was Matthew saying “If you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.”  
Effie nodded her head.  “I want to go out on a date with you.”
Matthew smiled bashfully.  He was sure his cheeks were going to turn red like some sort of teenager.  “What kind of food d’you wanna eat?”
***
“How’d you get that shiner, buddy?” Sean asked.
“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.
***
“What the hell happened to you?” Johnny asked the moment he saw him in the locker room.
“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.
***
Mark Giordano was not happy to see one of his star players show up to the arena with a black eye.  But he didn’t want to confront Matthew in a full locker room, so he waited until there was only a few people around – and even then, they were far away enough that he knew they wouldn’t really pick up on the conversation.  “What the fuck happened to your eye?” Mark asked, approaching Matthew
“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled, not even looking at his captain.
Mark furrowed his eyebrows.  There had to be something, a clue of some sort, to help him get to the bottom of this.  It was nobody’s birthday, so Matthew hadn’t gone out to a bar.  He didn’t get into a fight or scuffle on the ice that was too bad, so it couldn’t have been that either.  But then Mark remembered.  “I thought you spent time with Effie last ni—”
“I said I’m not gonna talk about it!” Matthew hissed as he got up abruptly, stomping away and leaving the room.
Mark took a deep breath in, putting his hands on his hips.  Kids.  He had to get to the bottom of this.  It was in his nature.  And as captain, he took his role seriously.  He needed to make sure his teammates were okay.  The media was definitely going to pick up on the black eye, and they’d need a good cover.  He left the locker room, following the path Matthew took, knowing he was probably letting off some steam in an empty trainer’s room.  Mark popped his head into two of them before finding Matthew in a third, facing away from the door and taping his stick.  Mark knew Matthew heard him walk in and shut the door behind him, but Matthew didn’t turn around.
“Sit,” Mark said sternly.
Matthew took a deep breath in but did as he was told.  He wasn’t going to defy Mark – he respected him way too much.  And he knew he had out let out the steam by telling someone, and Mark was probably the best person to tell.  
Mark sat down casually beside him, hunched over with his elbows on his knees so it looked like they were about to have a casual conversation, just in case anyone else barged in.  “Tell me what happened.”
Matthew took a deep breath.  “I took her out on a date last night.”
“Effie.”
“Yeah,” Matthew nodded slightly.  “And it was nice.  We went to a really nice Italian restaurant downtown.  She was having so much fun.  And she came back to my place and—”
“Please don’t tell me—”
“No no—it wasn’t—no,” he emphasized.  “I might be an idiot but I’m not that much of an idiot.”
“You can’t fault me for thinking it.”
Matthew shook his head.  “She came back to my place and I guess—well, I guess because the whole thing was so new for her, it was mentally exhausting.  She sorta kept saying how tired she was.  I told her she could stay over.  And it was fine.  We were just sleeping in the same bed.”
“And then?”
Matthew grumbled.  “And then I moved.”
There was a pause.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”
***
“I’m so sorry,” Effie whispered through tears, looking at Matthew’s back as he sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a bag of frozen peas against his face.
The entire night had been lovely.  She’d felt so good, and so comfortable, and so normal.  The food was delicious.  The walk through the park was magical.  The thing’s they’d talked about ran through her mind the entire night.  They hadn’t stopped talking.  They’d gone back to his place.  She was tired.  He suggested she stay over, knowing Levi wouldn’t mind.  She agreed.  She borrowed an old t-shirt and shorts.  They’d fallen asleep in his bed.  And it was lovely.  
And then at some point, in the middle of the night, with Effie’s back facing Matthew as he switched positions in his sleep, all she felt was a body pressing up against her slightly.  So she did the only thing she needed to do.
She punched him.  Hard.  
She hit between his eye and nose.  A loud “FUCK!” escaped him after the sound of skin hitting skin permeated through his bedroom.  Her body seized up and, like countless times before, she jumped out of bed.  When she turned around to look down at the bed, Matthew was clutching his eye in pain.  It was then that she realized just that – it was Matthew.  It wasn’t Abraham.  
“M—M—Matthew,” she stuttered out.  
“What the fuck, Effie?!” his temper got the best of him.
“M—Matthew—I—I thought—Abraham—I thought you were Abraham—”
With his one clear eye, he looked at her.  His chest was heaving.  But he didn’t say anything.  His shoulders slumped slightly.  And without saying anything, he got up out of the bed and walked out of the room.
Effie immediately dropped to her knees on the bed.  It’s what she would have done before, to ask for forgiveness for denying her husband satisfaction whenever and wherever he wanted it.  But now, in the new world, in her new world, it wasn’t like that.  She didn’t have to repent for her sin.  It didn’t have to be that way.  Abraham wasn’t in bed with her.  It was Matthew.  Sweet, soft, rough around the edges Matthew.
She started crying.  She couldn’t believe that she’d just done that to him.  She cried so hard she didn’t even realize he’d come back into the room quietly, with a bag of peas pressed against his face where she’d punched him.  
After she apologized, and he said nothing, she crawled over to him, the last of her tears spilling over her cheeks.  She lay her hand on his back.  “Matthew—”
He flinched at her touch.  She recoiled her hand back so quickly she didn’t know she could move that fast.  Her heart tightened in her chest, knowing she’d just caused him – and was continuing to cause him – such physical pain, when all he’d given her over the last few months was patience and support.  
Matthew heard her sharp intake of breath when he flinched.  He didn’t mean to flinch – really – he just didn’t expect her to touch him after she’d just punched his face for brushing up against her.  He took a few deep breaths to control his emotions before he looked behind him, seeing her tear-stained face looking at him.  
When he saw the lingering fear in her eyes, he couldn’t be angry.
***
Matthew played his hockey game, and he managed to score a goal and record an assist, but after the game, his mind was somewhere else.  Effie hadn’t shown up to the game; she wasn’t waiting with Jenna and Geneviève, and Jenna told him she was tired from work which is why she stayed home.  He needed to talk to her.  Needed to talk to her.  But he didn’t know how, and he didn’t know what to do.  
Jacob, Geneviève, Levi, and Jenna all left early, leaving him to go home alone.  He trudged down the hallway and took the elevator to the parking garage, his feet dragging on the concrete and he walked with his head down, a storm forming in his mind about what he was going to do.
“Matthew?” he heard a soft voice.
He shot his head up.  For a second he thought he was hallucinating, or some sort of mirage, but no – Effie was in the parking garage, standing right next to his car.  He had no idea how she got in but at this point he didn’t really care.  All he cared about was that she was there.  He rushed over to her as quickly as his legs would take him.  “You’re here,” he said, once he got close to her.  Her face was red and blotchy.  He hated seeing it like that.  It reminded him of the incident in the washroom.  “What’s going on?”
“I spent the whole day crying thinking about what I did to you,” she said, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears again.
“Effie, I told you it was alri—”
“It’s not alright, Matthew,” she asserted.  He’d said it all last night while she was profusely apologizing, but she didn’t believe him.  He’d said it up until she was picked up by a taxi to be taken back to her place.  He’d begged her to stay.  She couldn’t see how she could when she’d just punched him in the face.  “I wish you would stop saying that.  I hit you.  I gave you a black eye.  Nothing about that is alright—”
“Effie—”
“I just—I thought you were Abraham because he’d do that a lot and—because I would always try to say no otherwise, and so he had to get me at a point where—”
“EFFIE,” he said loudly, over her frantic voice, and she stopped immediately.  They stared at each other for a few moments in pure silence before Effie could feel Matthew’s hands grab hers.  He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she nestled her face into his chest and inhaled his scent.  A wave of peace flowed throughout her body.  He hadn’t asked to touch her, but at the same time, she hadn’t flinched.  His touch was so…so pure and so soft – so unlike anything else she’d felt before – that there was no reason to flinch or be scared.  His hands wouldn’t hurt her like other hands had.  She realized this, inhaling his scent one more time.  He wouldn’t hurt her.
When he released the hug, she brought her own hands up to cradle his face.  His facial hair was a bit rough against her skin, but it was still the softest she’d ever felt on a man.  Maybe it was because he always gave her butterflies.  Maybe it was something else.  “You’re so soft, Matthew…” her voice was barely above a whisper.  
“What’s that mean?” he asked, his voice equally as low.  “I’m not soft.”
“Yes, you are.  You are for me,” she clarified.  “You’re the softest man I’ve ever felt.  I don’t want that to change.”
He realized what she meant now.  It hit him like a ton of bricks, like most things did with Effie.  “It won’t,” he asserted.  “You can count on me.”
“I know I can,” she nodded her head.
Matthew couldn’t take it anymore.  They couldn’t continue this in the parking garage.  “Can I take you back to my place again and we can talk?  Properly?”
Effie nodded her head.  
***
Matthew let Effie roam in his kitchen while he changed out of his suit into some comfier clothes.  When he emerged from his room, Effie was sitting on his couch – just like she had been last night – a glass of water in her hand, sipping from it delicately.  He knew she’d end up back on his couch since she had commented last night how big and comfy it was.  Matthew didn’t even know where it was from – it came with the apartment.  But ever since she’d sat on it and made the comment, he found it comfier.
He walked over to her slowly, and she watched him, not saying a word.  Instead of taking a seat beside her, he knelt in front of her, between her legs.  He was still almost at eye level with her.  Boldly, he took the glass of water out of her hand and set it down on the coffee table.  He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumb tenderly.  “Can I ask you a question?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“What happened that night?  After you punched Abraham?”
Effie was silent for a moment.  “I…I—I got pregnant.”
The words stabbed Matthew in the heart.  He squeezed her hands to let go of some pain, and she squeezed back.  “I’m so sorry for what I did, Effie—”
“You have nothing to apologize about,” she said.  “You did nothing wrong.”
“But I scared you.  And I promised I’d never do that.  And it brought up bad memories…”
Effie was shaking her head.  “You didn’t scare me.  My mind did.  My mind thought you were Abraham.  But you’re the farthest thing from him, Matthew, and you need to know that.  You don’t scare me at all.  Not even a bit.  Not like Abraham scared me.”
Matthew bit his tongue so he could feel some pain and keep himself from crying.  To think about how she was so scared for eighteen years of her life, and now she wasn’t, and part of that was because he was around, helping her feel comfortable…he couldn’t have asked for anything more.  He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty for what happened, especially since Effie was telling him what she was telling him, but he knew he would for a while.  It’d take him a while to get over it.  “When we went on the date…did you—I mean, did you just do it because you felt like you had to?  Because you had to experience a first date to be normal or whatever?  Or did you actually want to?” he asked.
“I actually wanted to,” she said without hesitation.  Matthew could feel his heart beating in his chest.  “I wanted to, and with you.  Not with another guy and not with, like, Sean or whatever,” she said, and it made Matthew break out into a smirk.  “It was you.  And even though…I mean—I mean I think we could…and we would…” she tried to formulate her thought into coherent words.  
“But I don’t know if we should,” he finished her sentence.
Effie nodded.  “At least not yet.  I’m not—I’m not mentally there yet.  I’m not ready.  And it wouldn’t be fair to bring you along so closely with something I know I’m not ready for.  There’s so much I still need to learn…about, well…everything.”
Matthew nodded his head.  He understood completely.  “You know that I never expected anything, right?” he asked.
“Oh, of course not,” she said like it was the obscenest idea in the world.  She knew Matthew would never expect that of her.  “I think what’ll be good is you going home during the summer, and me starting my course in June…and by the time you come back in September, you might even see a brand new me.”
Matthew couldn’t help but smile at that.  He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs again.  “You’re already a brand new person, Effie.  When I come back you’ll just be wiser.  Do you promise to message me on Instagram about everything you learn and the stuff you experience?”
Effie nodded her head, a smile adorning her face now.  “Matthew?” she asked after a moment of silence.
This time, he looked up at her.  He knew what was coming.
This time, she didn’t need to stand on her tip-toes.  All she had to do was lean forward and kiss him.
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agustdakasuga · 4 years
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A Place Called Home | Chapter 1
Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU?, Soulmate AU, romance, fluff, humour
Pairing: OT7 x Reader
Characters: vet!reader, Arcticfox!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Goldenretriever!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Calicocat!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Rabbit!Jungkook
Summary: Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.
Before heading home for the day, you were making rounds around the wards when you saw the emergency team rushing to wheel in a gurney. As they passed you, your eyes glanced over and immediately, you knew what you had to do.
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‘Come home. - Yoongs’
‘Come home. - Yoongs’
‘You know I can’t come home right now! I am about to see an injured lion who needs me. I’ll be home at the same time tonight. - (y/n)’
‘But I need you more. - Yoongs’
‘I’ll see you tonight, Yoongi. - (y/n)’
You chuckled as you locked your phone and placed it into your pocket, heading back to the office. Your hybrid wasn’t someone who expressed himself a lot but you two have grown comfortable enough that he could openly show how clingy he was. If it wasn’t obvious, he hates your job. 
“Doc, room 3.” The nurse said and you nodded, sanitising your hands at the door before entering. On the bed, there was a lion laying down. He was breathing hard but other than that, he made no movement whatsoever. 
“Hello, I’m Dr (y/l/n). I’ll be taking care of you.” With gloved hands, you gently stroked the space between his ears. 
“The owner?” You looked up at the trembling girl. She nodded. 
“So what happened here?” 
“He was outside playing with my other hybrid. All of a sudden, I was called in and he was on the ground. He has trouble breathing, no energy and vomited thrice. Please, help him. I don’t know what’s wrong.” She buried her face in her hands as she sobbed. You noticed that the lion’s breathing has been getting more laboured. 
“Nurse, we’ll have to intubate.” You instructed and the nurse nodded, rushing to the medical cart. 
“Please move her outside.” You gestured to the lady who was starting to get hysterical. Immediately, you intubated the lion despite his soft whimpers and growls of discomfort. Once the tube was in, the nurse turned the oxygen on. 
“Any idea?” The nurse asked. 
“Well... The symptoms sound like a tick bite. Their animal side reacts faster to a tick bite compared to their human side.” You said. 
“Start searching for a tick or tick crater.” You told her and she nodded, wearing gloves to begin searching. 
“Doc, could this be it?” She called for you. Walking over, you saw a small red spot and hole at the back of the lion’s left ear. 
“It is a tick crater. I’ll search to see if the tick is still there but I’m worried that the bite is on his head. That could explain the fast effects of the venom. Get me the tick anti venom, 1 bag of feline blood and get me a standby atropine.” The nurse left quickly to get you what you needed. On your own, you searched the lion’s body but couldn’t find the tick that bit him anywhere. 
“Start an IV line for the blood.” You told her and injected the units of anti venom into the hybrid’s arm. 
“Tick bites usually cause tense muscles but from what I can see... that hasn’t started yet. Just keep the atropine in case he shows signs of strong muscle contraction.” You scribbled on the chart. 
“Doctor! What’s wrong with him?” His owner rushed to you the moment you came out with the nurse. 
“It’s a tick bite. I have given him the anti venom and a blood transfusion to try and get the tick venom out of his system. We’ll have to monitor him closely to see his reaction. He’s not out of the woods yet.” You explained and she wiped her tears, nodding her head as she understood your words.
“Thank you doctor.” She bowed.
“You may see him. If he starts showing any movement or reaction, let my nurse know immediately.” You said. She bowed again and ran into the room. 
After seeing a few more patients, it was finally time for you to head back. Before going to your office, you decided to go around the wards that you were in charge of for the week. 
“How’s our lion?” You checked the charts. 
“He’s breathing has stabilised and his fever is gone. His owner is staying with him.” The nurse informed. 
“Anything happens through the night, contact me immediately.” You signed the chart and closed it, giving it back to her. You hummed a song as you walked along the halls, peeking your head into the different rooms. They were mostly dark, signalling that the hybrids were all asleep, as they should. Except for some of the nocturnal hybrids that were used to staying awake at night.
“Time to go home.” You smiled in satisfaction and started the walk back to your office. 
“Clear the way! O.R. 2!” Turning around, you saw the emergency team heading towards your way. Just as they brushed past you, you looked at the figure on the gurney. The image sent you through a flashback and for a second, you couldn’t even breathe. 
It brought you back to that night. That night you met Yoongi. 
“Hey, nurse, who’s the attending to that?” You stopped one of the nurses passing by you. 
“Tonight’s emergency doctor is Dr Ki.” She informed. Dr Ki wasn’t even a surgeon and he was only a second year. Your feet started moving on their own and you ran after the team to Operation Room 2. 
“Dr Ki.” You said through the glass. As a junior, he turned around and immediately gave you a deep bow of respect. Taking a mask, you tied it around your face and entered the sterile room. Looking over at the table, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down from the scene before you. It was hard for you. 
“May I? You can assist.” You asked. 
“Of course, sunbae!” He nodded, gesturing for the nurse to get you your scrubs. 
“Get him hooked up. Look for the source of bleeding. Get ready the blood packs. From what I see, it’s a wolf so get me canine. As much as you can get me. I want a crash cart ready.” You commanded as the nurse put the gloves over your hands. 
“Yes, doc!” They all ran around the room. You walked over and looked at the extent of the wolf’s injuries. There were bullet wounds, bruises and a long jagged cut along his abdomen. 
“Dr Ki. We’ll start with the abdomen lesion followed by the bullet wounds.” You moved over to the bleeding wound and Dr Ki followed.
“We’re saving this wolf.” You said. 
-
With shaky legs, you entered the house, falling on the ground with your back pressed against the door. 
“Oh, so you’re finally home- (y/n)? What’s wrong?” Yoongi rushed over to you, seeing your state. The strong smell of animal blood and sadness filled his nose. Without another word, you let out loud sobs against his chest. You had tried to remain strong at the hospital but seeing Yoongi broke your strong facade as all your emotions hit you like a big wave. 
“Shhh... It’s okay, kitten.” He comforted, his black tail wrapping itself around your lower back. 
“Come on.” He carried you up in his arms and brought you to the couch. You sobbed into his shoulder, wrapping your arms tightly around him. 
“I... I...” You could speak between the sobs. 
“Deep breaths, kitten. Breathe.” He encouraged, rubbing your back. Soon, you were reduced to tiny whimpers and small sniffles. Yoongi frowned to himself, wondering what triggered your anxiety. He has never seen you so affected by work before. 
Sure, sometimes, unfortunate events happen where they are beyond your reach. You get sad but with Yoongi’s comfort, you light a candle for the passed hybrid and get over it. To actually have a full blown anxiety attack? 
Never. 
“Let’s get you in a bath.” Yoongi brought you up to your bedroom and entered your bathroom. You let him help you as you were still visibly shaken. Grabbing a set of your PJs, he dressed you as well. 
“Yoongi?” You called out softly. 
“Yes, kitten. I’m right here.” He stroked your head as he let you hug him again. Even if he wasn’t into physical affection, he would still do whatever it took to make you feel better. 
“I... I saw...” You tried to explain to him. 
“You can tell me tomorrow. There’s no rush.” Yoongi gave you a soft smile, stroking your head. 
“No. I-I’m okay. I was doing my l-last round before it was time to go h-home. The emergency team... t-they brought in a w-wolf hybrid. Yoongi, it was horrible. There was blood e-everywhere. Bullets, bruises, a big k-knife wound. He was left on the street... to d-die. I-I just remembered h-how... h-how... y-you...” Yoongi cut you off by pulling you to his chest. 
“Say no more.” He whispered. 
“There was so much blood.” You whimpered, remembering the wolf that laid on the operating table.
More than anyone, Yoongi knew the trauma that stayed with you from the night you found him. He was also left on the streets to die. When he was brought in, he was actually dead. But you didn’t give up and resuscitated him.
When you adopted Yoongi, that was when he saw how truly traumatised you were. He heard and saw the nightmares you experienced. The way you would cry and call out his name as you relived that night. Even if Yoongi himself was traumatised as well, he hated that he was the reason you were suffering so he helped you to try and get over it.
“So what was the result?” Yoongi asked.
“H-He’s in a m-medically induced c-coma.” You explained. 
“I know it was scary. But look, kitten, you saved him. He may be in a coma but he’s alive, isn’t he? You saved him just like how you saved me.” He wiped your tears with his thumbs. 
“He’s not okay yet but I can’t let him wake up until he heals. The pain would be too much for him to bear.” You shook your head. 
“That’s a good call.” He nodded his head. 
“Now, let’s rest. You’ve had a long day. We can talk tomorrow.” He laid you down on your bed. 
“Yoongi?” You called.
“Yes, kitten?” 
“Thank you.” You whispered and he smiled softly, getting under the covers as well. He kissed your forehead and you patted his head, smoothing his black ears down. The black panther let out a purr of satisfaction. His tail draped itself over your thigh and you smiled as the fur brushed against your bare skin. 
“(y/n).” Yoongi said, losing his nickname for you. You hummed in reply as a signal that you hadn’t fallen asleep on him. 
“Do you... regret saving me?” He felt you stiffen at his question, his nose smelling the uneasy emotions you were feeling. You pulled away slightly and you sat up, looking back at him. 
“Of course not. Why would you think that? Did I give you some impression that I did? I’m sorry.” 
“You didn’t do anything wrong, (y/n). You’ve done everything for me and I feel like I haven’t returned the favour. And because of me, you suffered from so much trauma. The nightmares, the anxiety attacks, everything.” He pushed himself up and held your cheek in his hand, his thumb lovingly brushing over your cheek. 
“Yoongi, not once have I ever blamed you for anything. You never asked to be in that position. However, I am grateful that I was the doctor there that night. Or else, I wouldn’t have met you and we wouldn’t be here now.” You smiled. 
“But I hurt you.” His head dropped. 
“I get hurt by animals all the time, it’s part of the job I signed up for. You had just woken up after a long surgery. You were alone and afraid so you did what you could to defend yourself. I understand.” You patted his head. Yoongi’s eyes couldn’t help but glance at the faint scars on your shoulder. The ones that were caused by him. 
“Why didn’t you give up on me?” 
“Because every person, human or hybrid, is special and deserves love.” You giggled. Seeing you finally smile for the first time that night and the way your eyes lit up when talking about him, Yoongi leaned in. 
“Oh, Yoongi.” You continued to stroke the back of his head as his face nuzzled your neck. 
“Are you working tomorrow?” He mumbled. 
“No. I... I told them I needed a day off to regain my composure. If I did, I might spend my entire shift next to the world.” You admitted. 
“Oh, kitten.” Yoongi chuckled. 
“I don’t have no classes tomorrow as well so we can spend the day together.” He said. Yoongi worked as a piano teacher at a nearby music school for hybrid children. At first, you were surprised because Yoongi wasn’t exactly someone with a lot of patience and he had a short temper. But you realised that he was doing it because of his love for playing the piano. 
“Shall we go visit Jin then?” You grinned. 
“I’ll think about it.” Yoongi scoffed and laid back down, dragging you with him. You laughed as you landed on top of him, your cheek pressed against his chest. 
“Goodnight kitten.” He said. 
“Goodnight Yoongi.” You replied, ending with a cough. 
Your sleep was broken by the shrill ringing of your phone at 5 am. Knowing that it was your work phone, you pushed yourself off Yoongi and answered it. It was the nurse from the hospital. 
“Dr, I’m sorry to contact you at this time despite you having such a long night. But the lion hybrid has woken up. He doesn’t have a fever or any muscle stiffness but he did throw up twice and is slipping in and out of consciousness.” She informed. 
“Keep monitoring him. I’ll head over now. For now, give him a bag of electrolytes.” You said and hung up. 
“Do you really have to go?” Yoongi groaned, his tail tightening around your waist. 
“They need me.” Was all you said. Yoongi sighed, knowing that you wouldn’t let other doctors take care of your patients for you. But at the same time, he didn’t want you returning to the hospital so quickly. 
“I’ll come with you.” He ruffled his hair. 
“It’s alright, Yoongi. It’s so early, you should go back to sleep.” You told him, grabbing some clothes to change. 
“You should too and yet, here we are.” He rolled his eyes, getting out of bed to go to his room to change. As you looked at his retreating back, you smiled and shook your head. You were the only person Yoongi would ever give up his sleep for and that made you touched. He was someone you knew you could lean on and stay by your side. 
“Let’s go.” He grabbed the car keys. Holding your hand, you walked to your shared car and he drove to the hospital. 
“Doctor.” The nurses greeted you as you walked through with Yoongi. You bowed your head slightly while Yoongi just trailed behind you. He wasn’t a big fan of the hospital. 
“You can’t come with me into the ward but you know where my office is.” You told him and he nodded his head, parting ways with you. 
“Good morning. Can you hear me?” You asked the lion. His eyes fluttered open, wavering slightly. 
“Y-Yes...” He struggled. 
“That’s great. You were bitten by a tick so I gave you some anti venom. You throwing up could just be a reaction to the medication. How are you feeling? Beside the nausea.” You asked him softly. 
“I...I feel okay. But... sleepy.” He murmured. You nodded with a soft smile and reached over to pat his head. 
“Alright. Feeling sleepy is completely normal. The tick bit you on your ear, which caused faster symptoms since it was on your head, near your brain. Now, getting rest is important. But I’m glad you’re making such quick progress.” You rubbed his ear. 
“T-Thank... you.” He smiled tiredly. 
“You’re welcome. But I can’t take all the credit. You fought well too.” You chuckled, making him look up at you in fondness. 
“Y-You smell... like a feline.” He pointed out. 
“Ah... Yeah. I have a black panther myself. He followed me in to see you.” You rubbed the back of your neck. 
“He’s a lucky hybrid to have you as an owner.” He complimented and your cheeks turned red. 
“Thank you. You are lucky too. She was crying the moment you were brought in and decided to stay the whole night by your side.” You and him looked over at his sleeping owner. He nodded his head in agreement. Soon, you left him to rest and you headed back to your office to find your own hybrid. Yoongi was staring at the photos on your bulletin board. 
“Yoongi?” You called and he finally had his attention on you. Even if you were not a hybrid, you knew that something was wrong. What happened?
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This is not how you pay your debt
Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Hanji Zoë Word count: 4507 Genre: smut, fluff
A little idea I came up with while watching Junior High. Hanji is in debt to Levi, but gets a very unique idea of paying it.
They/them pronouns for Hanji.
"I'm not treating you. Make sure you repay me later."
These words were still ringing in Hanji's ears, even though Levi spoke them in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He said it only once, but Hanji knew he meant it every other time, just by the look he was making. That was the funny thing about Levi: he was a mystery, a real enigma to everyone except for Hanji. They always knew what was on his mind, they were studying him for long enough to be able to see through his façade and even explain it to the others. They would lie if they said he was easy to read, but they were somewhat proud of this relationship. None of them knew actually what they were, the two of them never spoke about it. Hanji knew fully well that Levi was someone way more than just a friend to them, even though they didn't know what he thought about it, this thing about him remained a secret even to them. But that meant that maybe, just maybe, it was worth to try taking their relationship on the next level and them being in debt to him was a pretty convenient excuse. It wasn't an easy decision to make, if he didn't feel the same way, this friendship can be ruined, but if he did... Well, life is too short to waste this opportunity, especially in this world and Hanji has always been a "ride or die" person, especially when it came to Levi. It was worth trying.
The opportunity arose on its own, actually. One night Hanji was busy in the lab when they heard a knock on the door frame. They looked up from their notes and saw Levi, dressed very lightly and casually. Hanji themself was wearing light clothes, but it wasn't as contrasting as it was in his case. They usually were way more casual than Levi, who just had to look neat and elegant. This time, however, was different. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he had trouble sleeping.
“Do you want me to help you fall asleep or do you just want my company?” Hanji asked straightforwardly, not trying to pretend they didn't know what he was doing there.
“How about both?” he asked quietly and closed the door while Hanji sent him a careful look from above their glasses.
“My, my, Levi Ackerman openly saying what he wants” they teased him and stood up when he made an irritated expression, ready to leave. For once experiments and science could wait. “What a beautiful day to live.”
“Don't make me change my mind and leave, four-eyes” he even sounded annoyed. Hanji knew they were about to test their luck and strain his trust, but it was now or never.
“Like hell I'd let you” they said and before Levi realized what they intended to do, he was pinned against the lab door. The distance between them was nearly nonexistent, yet the man didn't protest or push his friend away. “Say, Levi” they reached up and caressed his cheek tenderly “what would you say to collecting my latest debt in a slightly different way?” they asked with a soft, sweet voice, their hand slowly wandered down his body.
“What do you mean?” he asked carefully, his breath hitched at their touch.
“Oh, you know, I have this new idea about how can I repay you.”
“Yes. Simply give me the money back” he said, trying to keep his composure.
“Or I can help you relax” they offered with a smirk and their fingers barely brushed his crotch. Levi's eyes widened and his face reddened as he finally realized what kind of idea it was. At this moment Hanji could clearly see through him and almost all of his barriers. They could tell he was in kind of conflict with himself, he was torn and didn't quite know whether he wanted it or not.
“Oh really? And what do you have in mind?” he teased, trying to get his emotions under control, even though his own body betrayed him. The thought of what Hanji could do to him in context they suggested made his cheeks burn even more, arousal shot through his spine right to his lower abdomen and he panicked a little, feeling his penis hardening slowly. He thought he buried this ability deep down, things like love or lust seemed impossible to experience for someone who had this terrible life and carried such a huge trauma inside. Yet again, Hanji Zoë proved to him that impossible wasn't an option. Their chaos completely ruined his perfectly ordered life, yet to his surprise, Levi didn't mind it that much.
“A lot, actually” their eyes twinkled with satisfaction when they felt Levi's erection. Their other hand that was leaning against the door above the man's head, fell softly to his hair and slid down to the cheek. “And I promise you're going to love it, but I need you to trust me” with every word their voice was getting quieter and more sensual and it was doing its job. When their thumb caressed his lips, it was the last straw. Levi grabbed them by the collar and closed the distance between the two of them, sealing Hanji's lips with a hungry kiss. He wasn't quite himself, but his friend wasn't complaining at all, on a contrary, they loved this side of him.
Well, just like any other one. Hanji was probably the only person in the world who knew everything about Levi and who loved him despite his terrible personality. He just was to understand it yet.
“I do” he whispered, breaking the kiss. “I trust you.”
Hanji smiled warmly, they knew it, technically, but hearing these words was something quite different than just sensing them. They slightly pulled away and started unbuttoning their shirt, then shrugged it off. As they did, Levi shyly put his hands on their muscled body. Hanji wasn't as strong as he was, but enough to be good in fight and they had quite nice muscles either. His fingers traced their abs, then toyed with the hem of Hanji's sport bra that kept their small boobs in one place and helped to keep their chest comfortably flat.
“Should I take it off?” Hanji teased, knowing fully well that his answer was a yes.
“Please” he breathed and that somewhat surprised his partner, they didn't expect to hear such a need in his tone. They stripped of the bra faster than they first intended, letting Levi stare and then touch their breasts. It wasn't the first time he was doing that, after all he was the only one who would make Hanji take a bath, sometimes in a quite violent way, but it was the first time the situation was sexual. They let him play for a while before pushing him harder against the door and capturing his lips in a kiss. Levi let out a small whimper when he was denied the boobs, Hanji only chuckled at his reaction.
“Tonight was supposed to be about you” they said with amusement, unbuckling his pants.
“I was having fun too” he protested, pulling them closer and kissing their neck. Hanji gasped as he suckled on their pulse point, they tugged the fabric of his pants, drawing Levi even closer. Finally they managed to free his cock and the moment their fingers touched it, their partner was gone. He stopped kissing their neck and bit down his lower lip, fighting a moan.
“Oh, you like it already? But I didn't do anything yet” Hanji laughed and slightly pulled away. They took their glasses off and put them away.
“I swear, four-eyes...” Levi panted with irritation, but his voice died in his throat when Hanji kneeled down in front of him. Immediately he covered his mouth with his hand, muffling any noises he was making. They were right, they didn't do anything yet and he was already done. He closed his eyes as they moved closer, kissing softly the tip of his member. He had to use all of his strength and willpower to not cum that soon.
“Tell me if you want me to stop or if I do something wrong, okay?” they asked, but all Levi could do was to nod a few times, his eyes still closed, cheeks flushed and mouth covered, which was necessary, because he nearly screamed with pleasure when Hanji took his cock in their hot, wet mouth, carefully testing every move and observing his reactions. Almost as if they were doing an experiment. Levi's free hand clenched on his partner's hair, not wanting them to stop, but he also minded to not enforce anything. Every lick and suck, even the slightest move, was pushing him closer and closer to his climax, apparently Hanji could use their mouth to pleasure him as well as they were using it to talk. Their tongue was impressively swift and the deeper they tried to take him in, the more he struggled to hold on. He could have probably lasted longer, but he made a huge mistake: he opened his eyes. The sight of Hanji kneeling down and looking up at him with their messy hair, flushed cheeks, bare chest, beautiful dark eyes and mouth full of cock, was enough to send Levi off the edge. He came suddenly, surprising Hanji who choke a little, some saliva mixed with sperm escaped their mouth and fell on their chest, but they managed to finish him off, swallowing all they could. When they let go of him, Levi didn't move, staring at them with unfamiliar feelings and trying to calm down.
“Hanji, you look gorgeous” he whispered half consciously as they wiped their chin and licked their fingers.
“Does that mean you liked my payment?” they smirked. Levi dropped to his knees and kissed them hard, pulling them by the hand he still had tangled in their hair. He could taste himself on their lips, but to his surprise, he didn't mind.
“Hell yes I did. You were amazing” he panted, leaning his forehead against their shoulder.
“I guess you can tell I have PTSD: Professional Talent for Sucking Dick” Hanji joked and Levi managed to let out a chuckle. He suddenly felt hands on his neck and back as his partner hugged him. “Do you want to go to sleep now?” they asked, but he made a sound of protest.
“No, just give me five minutes.”
“For what?”
“For round two. If you think you can suck me off and not expect being fucked later, then you should re-evaluate your knowledge about me.”
“I never knew this side of you, but I like it. I guess it's not too late to get to know it better” they smiled and slowly slipped their hand under his shirt to massage the skin on his back. They waited patiently and when his breath steadied, he kissed them first on their lips, then jaw, neck and he moved lower as he reached their breasts again.
“I see now why did you decide to undress” he smirked, licking his semen off their skin.
“I knew you would make a mess. What an irony, usually you despise it.”
“Oi, you're asking to be punished.”
“I can think of a few ways you can do that, but at the same time I'm not sure if you're actually capable of doing that. A few minutes ago you were completely at my mercy. Who knew you could be this submi—” they gasped loudly when Levi caught their nipple between his teeth, then sucked, and rolled the other between his fingers. He smirked, looking up.
“You were saying?” he asked triumphantly and pulled away to take off his shirt. Hanji reached for their own one and placed it on the floor, so they could lie down a little more comfortably.
“I feel tempted to tease you more and check what else you can do to me” they admitted, wriggling their boots and pants off.
“You might regret it” he simply said, following their lead. “If not tonight, then tomorrow. And it won't be worth it.”
“We can discuss it once we're done” they pulled him close impatiently and kissed hard. He pushed them down, so they would lie on the floor. “It's cold” they winced.
“I'll warm you up” he assured, pulling away and looking at them loosing their hair. He never thought he would think that, but Hanji was freaking beautiful. They were intoxicating him in a way no other human being could.
“You're staring, Levi” they chuckled. “Are you stunned by my beauty?” Hanji joked, unknowingly saying exactly what he had in mind.
“Actually, yes, I am” he admitted and caressed their thighs. Laugh died down their throat, their eyes widened in shock as they looked at him.
“What?”
“I don't know how or why, but you look so fucking good right now, I've never seen a more attractive person” he admitted, kissing their stomach and going up. He had no idea why suddenly he was so honest and open, he would usually keep his guard up, not counting rare moments when he was breaking down in Hanji's arms, the way they were in his. But even then he wasn't talking much, they just knew. This night was so different, he was doing things he didn't think he was capable of and to his surprise, it wasn't terrifying him, he actually enjoyed doing it all.
“You think I'm beautiful and attractive?” Hanji stared at him dumbfounded. They clearly couldn't believe it.
“Of course I do” he answered, kissing all the way up to their breasts while his fingers brushed their sex. Hanji gasped at his touch and clenched their palm on his shoulder, sensing a nasty scar under their fingertips. He had way more scars than they had, but Hanji knew almost every one, just like Levi knew theirs. Both of them tended to their wounds, they were the only people the other trusted to take care of them. Of course, Hanji was more open and they could let Miche or Nana do the job, but they preferred to leave it to Levi. It was a way to gain his trust, he would never let Hanji take care of him if he couldn't take care of them in return. Just like he was doing now, fingering them with a skill he didn't quite expected he possessed. Yet it was there and it allowed him to give more and more pleasure to his lover. He watched them carefully, observing every reaction and the first thing he noted was that they were much quieter than he was, but it didn't mean he was doing something wrong. At least he hoped so, judging by the way they were moaning his name intertwined with "yes" and "just like that". It took him a while, but he finally made them come all over his hand and if he thought they were beautiful before, they looked fucking gorgeous now, all sweaty and panting, with neck and breasts covered in hickeys and bite marks, eyes closed, limbs spread and lips curved in a smile.
“That was amazing. You were amazing” Hanji praised him, caressing his cheek. Levi just looked at them with a glint of mischief in his eyes and never breaking eye contact, he put his fingers in his mouth, licking them clean, observing the growing desire in Hanji's eyes
“I'm just getting started” he said and climbed up their body to place a hungry kiss on their lips. Both of them moaned as he positioned himself and the tip of his penis brushed Hanji's entrance.
“Do you really want this?” they asked and Levi looked at them, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, I do. I wouldn't do that if I didn't want it.”
“Good. I do too and I just wanted to hear it from you.”
“Why?”
“Consent is sexy” they shrugged. “Besides, after all we've been through, I really wouldn't want to ruin our relationship by making you do something you don't want to. You deserve all the best and I want to make sure you get it.”
Levi froze, looking at them with shock, disbelief, but also hope, deeply moved by their words. He kissed them, slowly pushing his member inside. He might have been inexperienced, but he wasn't an idiot, he knew what to do to not hurt his partner. Hanji winced a little when his cock stretched their inner walls.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing their hair out of their face.
“Yeah. Well, you are short, but your dick clearly isn't, so I need a moment” they chuckled.
“Don't make me regret it” he sent them an annoyed look. Only Hanji could crack a joke about his height when he was balls deep inside them.
“Sorry. I'll behave, you can go on” they promised and kissed him. Levi sighed heavily, absolutely done with them and pulled out, but as he thrusted back in, any bickering and jokes were left forgotten. Both of their brains went blank, not caring about anything besides their mutual pleasure. They had no idea for how long did their act last, it seemed like an eternity of thrusts, kisses, touches, moans and overwhelming pleasure. When they finally reached their orgasms, Levi simply collapsed on top of Hanji, knowing fully well he could do that and he wouldn't crush them. If it wasn't for his insomnia, he would have had more strength, but for now he was exhausted. Hanji embraced him and kissed his sweaty forehead.
“Thank you” he whispered, when their breaths steadied.
“It was my pleasure” they smiled, playing with his hair.
“I've always thought sex was dirty and disgusting. I don't know how did you do that, but you managed to prove me wrong” he said, apparently even Levi Ackerman confirmed theory that people after sex are more open and honest.
“Well, we're quite messy right now, all sweaty and sticky” Hanji pointed out, but made no sign indicating they were bothered by that.
“I don't care.”
“You? A clean freak? Don't care?” his lover looked at him with disbelief. They never thought he could say such thing. “Are you even alright?”
“More than alright. Tonight I'm just doing things I never thought I was capable of. Being dirty, having sex and actually enjoying it. Feeling this warm and fuzzy inside. That's so strange to me, it's nice, of course, yet I can't help but think about...” he didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to. Hanji knew him and understood like no one could.
“She wouldn't want you to feel bad. She did what she had to do.”
“Do you think she would be proud of me?”
“Of course! She would be very proud to see everything you've achieved. I'm sure you are someone she wanted you to be. Someone who lives a better life than her. I've never met her, but I'm sure she loved you more than anything” they assured him. Levi rarely spoke about his mother, it was very personal to him and no one but Hanji actually knew the whole story. They were the only person in the world he could open up to.
“Hanji, what am I to you?” he asked suddenly, his voice almost cracking because of the emotions. He pushed himself up, so he could look them in the face.
“What do you mean?” they were surprised by his sudden question.
“How do you feel about me? Please, tell me” he pleaded. Levi Ackerman never pleaded, he was never desperate and he never cared about other people's feelings. Except for Hanji's.
“You're my best friend” they started and a flash of disappointment crossed Levi's face. “You're the one I can deeply trust and I can always rely on. You're the first person I think about when I wake up and the last when I go to sleep. And if we were given a chance to live a peaceful life, you're the one I would share it with. I just love you, Levi” they confessed and his eyes widened with shock.
“You do?” he whispered barely audible.
“I do. I have for a few years by now. I just never thought you could feel the same about me. Tonight... well, let's say I was tired of being uncertain and I had to make a move.”
“I love you too” he blurted out and it was Hanji's turn to be shocked. They never expected him to actually say it. “For a long time I couldn't admit it, maybe I didn't want to, because I was scared. Everyone who ever loved me and whom I loved, are dead. I don't want you to die” he admitted. Hanji stared at their lover, processing everything he said, then moved up and kissed him hard.
“I can't promise that I won't die, but you know you can't get rid of me easily.”
“I know but—”
“No 'buts'. Stop thinking negative. I know you've been through so much, but you have to move on. You have to live a better life. For your mom. For me. For yourself.”
Levi thought about their words, he knew they were right. He nodded, defeated. One last time. Just once, he would let himself love and be loved. He would risk his heart being shattered once again. He knew Hanji was tough, they survived for this long, they could certainly live through much more. So he was safe for now. At least he wouldn't live in constant "what ifs" invading his mind anymore.
“Alright.”
“Great. Now let's call it a night, shall we? As tempting as staying like that sounds, I'd rather not give Moblit a heart attack in the morning” they snickered.
“Fine. Let's take a bath and go to sleep” Levi pulled away from them with a slick sound.
“Yeah, for once I won't be arguing” Hanji said, looking at the mess between their thighs. They both got up and got dressed, made sure to not leave any mess in the lab, went to their rooms to take fresh clothes and met in the bathroom. “You know that if the others find out, they're never going to let us live?” they asked when the two of them undressed once again and proceeded to clean themselves and each other.
“They don't have to find out.”
“You think so? This thing is way harder to keep a secret than any other thing we've said or done.”
“They know we help each other fall asleep, so even if they would catch us sleeping together, it's not the first time.”
“And you were furious when they saw us for the first time, now it's our advantage.”
“Yeah. Good thing it was in common area, it was easier to explain.”
“Let's hope we're lucky enough to keep it secret.”
They finished their bath reminiscing old times. When they left and got dressed, they headed to Levi's room where they fell asleep as soon as they went to bed. Both of them had trouble sleeping recently, yet the presence of the other one was soothing and calming enough, to let them peacefully sleep for all night and even longer than that. Because when they finally woke up, it was almost noon.
“Hey” Levi spoke, his voice was even deeper and lower than usual.
“Hey” Hanji smiled and rubbed their eyes. “Did we oversleep?”
“Seems like it. But I guess we deserved that much sleep.”
“Yeah... You look way better than yesterday. I mean, healthier, not more handsome and beautiful, that's physically impossible.”
“I can say the same thing” he brushed away Hanji's hair, taking it out of their face, then leaned in and kissed them.
“I KNEW IT!” Nanaba's sudden scream made the couple jump away from each other, as much as they could, being limited by the bed and their embrace. “MICHE, ERWIN, I WON THE BET!!!” she shouted and Levi furrowed his brows.
“What the fuck?!” he yelled at her.
“Yes, Nana, what the fuck?!” Hanji echoed. None of them got an answer, because Miche and Erwin appeared by the door.
“You didn't win shit, just because they share a bed it doesn't mean you won” Miche protested, crossing his arms on his chest.
“Besides, they're fully clothed and they slept together in the past” Erwin noticed. “It means nothing.”
“I saw them kiss, I swear!” Nanaba realized she didn't think this through, as she had no proof to convince them.
“Oi! What's that supposed to mean?” Levi yelled, sitting up, his partner followed his actions.
“Nana was convinced you're dating, while we were pretty sure you're not. So we decided to bet. If she found out any proof in a week, she wins, if she won't, we win” Miche explained. “But since we know you two have huge trouble sleeping and the only person who can help you is the other one, we don't count that.”
“Technically it's against the rules, but I can either allow that or risk getting two of my best people get themselves killed, because of sleep deprivation” Erwin admitted. “And since you said you're not dating...”
“Of course we're not dating” Levi scoffed.
“And that's why Hanji has hickeys all over their neck?” Nanaba pointed out triumphantly. The couple exchanged looks, they didn't expect to see anyone before getting out of bed, so they didn't mind less covering clothes. Which meant that most of the marks Levi has left on his lover's body were visible.
“We're not dating yet” Hanji precised, giving up. There was no point trying to lie, the evidence was obvious. “Last night we talked about our feelings, but we didn't figure out the status of our relationship yet. Also we would like to have our privacy respected, thank you very much.”
“So did we win or not?” Miche wondered, apparently that was his priority.
“I'd say under these circumstances we can say none of us wins or loses. The bet is cancelled” Erwin decided. “Now let's get back to work, you two, get out” he pointed to Miche and Nana “you two, get up” he pointed to Levi and Hanji “and we're never talking about it again, that's an order” he commanded and the three left.
“So much for keeping a secret” Hanji sighed, resting their head on Levi's shoulder.
“That's not what I wanted to do. But maybe it's for the better” he admitted, wrapping his arm around his partner and kissing their head. “We don't have to bother whether someone sees us or not.”
“Really? You're going to ruin your reputation of unavailable idol only to be able to kiss me in public?” they joked.
“Like I ever cared about my reputation” Levi rolled his eyes. “But there's one more thing.”
“What is it?”
“While I enjoyed the way you paid your debt last night, don't get used to it or I'll stop buying you anything” he said and Hanji couldn't help but burst out laughing.
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mittensmorgul · 3 years
Note
Incoming sad rant about the spn ending. Don't read if you're not interested in reading something like that, but I literally don't know anyone in real life I can talk about this with, and I really need an outlet:
Sometimes I can put the way SPN ended out of my head and think "it's just a stupid show. I don't have to accept the finale, and the writers/network are wrong." But other times I just get gripped with really intense sadness at the disrespect that was done to my favorite characters. To the point where I'll sit still for hours a day, just wallowing in it. It ruins my whole day and mood. And then I think to myself "I'll just find some other stories that end better!" but then I get sad again, cuz I don't think I will ever love other characters as much as I love Dean and Cas, and then I spiral again thinking about all the potential this unique beautiful love story had, and how we're never going to get the closure we deserve.
I really hate that after all this time, I'm a grown ass adult getting sad over fictional characters. I know it's not that trivial, but I sometimes wish it was so I could get over it 😞
Hi hi, and first of all *socially distanced internet hugs* I’m sorry you don’t have an outlet, but you’re always welcome to chat with me (if you come off anon we can talk privately if you want. My DM’s are always open, even when it takes me a bit to reply. no one should have to feel alone in this.)
I’m actually gonna start at the bottom of your message and work my way up, because I also, as a grown-ass adult, get sad over fictional characters. And I need to emphasize that this is the *point* of fiction. A well-written and developed fictional character is *indistinguishable in our minds from an actual real human being.* The way we react to them *feels exactly the same to our brains and bodies* as how we react to real people, and that’s a testament to just how well developed Dean and Cas were in canon.
I am not a young person. I have engaged with a lot of media over my life, and have *never* felt this strongly about fictional characters before, so I understand what you mean when you struggle to think about finding another story that ended better, or struggle to think about finding other characters you might become this attached to or experience this sort of emotional investment in. And I think there is another factor you didn’t consider there: The vast majority of other media I have engaged with, I was able to relate to on a level of “oh that’s nice for them” or “wow that sucks for them.” I have never, and possibly never will again, feel so utterly invested in fictional characters, to the point where it affects my real life as much as Supernatural has. Period.
I will likely never experience *literal physical lovesickness* over two fictional characters ever again. I hadn’t ever experienced it *in my own real life* before, and yet 15.18 triggered all those symptoms in me. As an aromantic person, this was pretty shocking to me. It also says a lot about just how real these characters feel to us, and how important they have become to us. They make us feel this! This is not an accident. It’s *incredibly difficult* to create fictional characters with this range and depth of emotional connection, and yet here we are.
I think that’s the biggest evidence possibly to present in defense of the statement that THIS IS NOT JUST SOME STUPID SHOW.
Other evidence: this fandom, still going strong after 15 years. Look at every SPN convention for proof. Look at AO3, where there are more posted stories about Dean and Cas than literally any other pairing on the planet (by a not-small margin, too). If that isn’t enough evidence, we have fanart to look at as well. Look through @theroadsofararchive where at the time of this posting there are over 40,000 artworks catalogued, and more being added all the time. Same with @canonspngifs where you can search through through nearly 75,000 gifsets organized by an excellent tagging system and made by dedicated fans out of love for the thing. This is all proof that you are not alone, that so many of us care just as deeply about them as you do. Not even mentioning the people who have written hundreds of millions of words of meta, articles, and even masters theses and doctoral dissertations on Supernatural and the fandom. This is a unique thing, even within the larger fandom culture. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that your feelings for it are stupid or irrelevant or wrong.
But also don’t let anyone try to convince you that you must accept the finale as part of the story if you don’t want to. Don’t even let *yourself* believe that if you don’t want to. This show has done more to play with the themes of “what is reality” and “who gives a story meaning” and alternate universes and curses and djinn dreams to easily account for whatever the heck the finale was.
my current go-to theory: everything after Chuck’s defeat takes place in the Mockumentary Alternate Universe... it fits way too uncomfortably well... and then I just apply the fic I received in a cosmic transmission from the actual supernatural universe wrote detailing the events of what *I* hoped would transpire afterward. I know this doesn’t work for everyone, but it works for me, mostly because it *has* to. It means far too much to me not to.
You are not alone in having invested yourself into this story, and these characters. Your feelings about them are not wrong or stupid or frivolous. And the proof is everyone else who feels the same exact way, who connected to this story (and to each other through this story), and whose lives have been forever altered through this journey together. The fact that Dabb turned out to have been Chuck Junior and couldn’t see (or was prevented from showing us) what Team Free Will would’ve chosen to do with that after defeating their original creator just stands to prove to me that the finale can’t possibly be The Truth, you know?
I don’t know if any of this will help you, or provide you some small comfort right now, but maybe it will eventually. We’re all processing the loss of the show and the abject failure of story that was the finale in different ways, and I’m sure our emotional reactions will shift over time. It was just A Lot to process all in the span of a few incredibly emotional weeks-- not even mentioning how all of that emotional response was compounded by the american elections and surrounding nonsense, the general stress of enduring a global pandemic and all that entails, and *waves hands around broadly at everything else contributing to the trauma occurring in the collective of humankind right now.* We’ve all been emotionally compromised, so be kind to yourself in how you feel you’re coping with it all.
And know that no matter what, you are not alone in how you’re feeling. The grief is real, and our brains don’t care if it’s felt for fictional characters or real people. This was honestly a once in a lifetime experience for a lot of us, and not even the wtf of the finale can kill it for us if we don’t let it. I reject that particular piece of rusty rebar and choose to believe in a just and narratively coherent resolution. To do anything less feels like dishonoring the story and characters who have drawn me in and made me feel so much for them over the years. If the story itself couldn’t honor them properly, then I can choose to do so myself.
<3
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chickenmcfly1 · 3 years
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Since you said you’re a guitarist and music major yourself, do you have any thought about Marty as a musician and his path?
omg you should not have gotten me going on this. Music and Marty are my favorite topics of ramble about and now you’re letting me ramble about both together gajagska. Anyway, here are my thoughts about Marty and his music
He started showing musical inclination when he was quite young. Grandma Sylvia (aka Trixie Trotter) would sing and play for Marty and he loved it
He expresses want to learn an instrument when he’s around 8 years old and there’s already a plunky little piano in the McFly home. By no means is it a good instrument, but George has Sylvia teach him.
Marty likes it a lot and he practices and becomes pretty proficient. Neither Lorraine or George expect much to come from it, but they’d rather have Marty playing jazz standards and Beethoven than have him setting fire to the rest of the house
After Sylvia passes a few years later, well one, Marty is absolutely destroyed because he’s not that close to anyone else in his family, but also the piano lessons stop. George and Lorraine can’t afford lessons and they don’t really care enough to encourage Marty’s musical goals
Marty keeps up with his piano playing, but around this time, at age 10, he begins to get really into Rock n Roll. The record store by his house is where Marty goes to escape his family before Doc and he becomes obsessed with all the Rock Stars and their records.
There’s a video of Jimi Hendrix explaining how to play the guitar that plays at the music store on loop, and Marty watches it over and over and over and over until he has it pretty much memorized
He mows lawn for a week and the first time he gets paid, he goes straight to the record store and buys the tape and the other guitar lessons that come with it
And Marty decides right then that he wants to be just like those rock stars. Because their music is so incredible and they’re so entertaining, and talented, and cool.
The older Marty gets, the more fascinated with all kinds of music Marty becomes. He applies himself to learning the melodies and analyzing the elements of the music with a dedication that his teachers wish he could also apply to literally anything else
He also tries his hand at writing his own music. It comes surprisingly easy because Marty’s a very emotional person, even at like 12, but he’s really scared of expressing those emotions. He’s afraid of being made fun of and rejected and judged and called weak, so he writes music, but nobody ever heard it.
By 12, Marty is begging his parents for a guitar, but they don’t want to spend the money on an instrument or lessons. Marty; however, is desperate and is willing to do literally anything to get his parents to buy him one.
Hill Valley is a small town, and the record store owner obviously had noticed how Marty comes by every single day, so he ends up giving Marty some trashy old acoustic that needs to be tossed
The guitar is probably only given to Marty because fixing it up to put it in selling condition would probably cost more that they could ever make from it, but looking at Marty, you’d think he’s just been given the best gift in the entire universe
So he watches the Jimi Hendrix tapes another 10,000 times and works his ass off and improves an enormous amount and by the time he’s 13, Marty is quite a good guitar player
In 8th grade, he’s able to save enough for another (equally crappy and equally used) guitar but this one’s electric and its the most incredible thing Marty has ever seen and he adores it
Marty’s super insecure in pretty much everything he does, and nobody feels good about themselves at age 13, but at this age, Marty really starts doubting himself way more and struggling with confidence. Music is an escape from that. Marty works so hard with his piano playing, with his singing, and especially his guitar playing, and making music is the place where he feels most comfortable in himself.
At this point, Marty’s family life is getting worse and worse, school is hard and friends are hard, but he has music and he throws himself into it 110 percent.
That all comes crashing down at Marty’s first audition. Marty auditions for Jazz band in 8th grade, and that rejection shouldn’t be a big deal because there two spots and 8th 9th and 10th graders, but Marty’s quickly rejected and it breaks it heart. This had been the one thing that was simple for Marty. There was no chaos or fighting or compilations behind it, he just did it and it made him happy, and now that’s been taken away from him too
He pretty much decides he’s giving up on music forever after that and is never playing for anyone else again, but as usual, Doc comes into Marty’s life at the perfect time.
Music is one of the first things Doc and Marty bond about. Doc tells Marty he’s welcome to play any of his records while they’re working. His music is mostly jazz and 50s stuff, and Marty absolutely falls in love with it.
After listening to more of that, Marty discovers a love for combining the classics with a new unique kinda heavy metal sound
He asks Doc about the saxophone and Doc teaches Marty quite a bit of it. Marty’s not as great at sax as he is at piano, singing, or guitar, but it’s fine because he has a duet partner now.
He and Doc play together a lot and he’s the only one that gets to hear Marty’s original music. Marty writes a bunch of jazz and rock pieces for Sax and Guitar too, and being able to play with Doc gives Marty a lot of the confidence boost he needs. Doc makes a point to always encourage and compliment Marty’s performance. And it’s not hard to do either, because Marty really does have something special.
Improvising with Marty is a wild ride. He’s able to change keys, styles, and go into mixed meter in a way that seems almost effortless and with alarming speed. Anybody with him really does have to ‘try to keep up’
Once he gets to high school, Marty tries auditioning for a few things again. To his surprise, he’s picked for a few small things. Nothing as big as he wants, but it’s better than nothing. Someone somewhere thinks Marty’s good and that’s something.
Marty also gets into a little bit or recording, mixing, and composing. [There’s a tiny electric or MIDI keyboard in his bedroom in the Polaroid from the set so I’m assuming he’s writing music for full bands and playing some parts on MIDI with a software instrument, but idek if that technology existed back then, so who knows right]
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For his 15th birthday, Doc gives him the rest of the money for the guitar he’s been saving up for. It’s an Ibanez and when he plays it or the first time, it feels like the instrument was made just for him and everything is right in the world
He throws himself even more into practice after this and music goes from a hobby to the thing he wants to do with his life. Marty’s always felt lost and directionless when it comes to his future. It’s always felt like he isn’t good enough and won’t really amount to anything. His family are all nobodies, and nobody thinks Marty is capable of achieving anything. But Music gives him purpose and hope for the future.
Doc’s nonstop encouragement is what pushes Marty to finally take the first step and decide to pursue music
In sophomore year, the pinheads come together. Marty is a lot more serious about the whole thing than the others, but being in a band is cool, so they all carve out a few hours every week to rehearse. Marty pushes and pushes them and himself to be better.
He starts dating Jennifer in junior year and Marty writes a lot of songs for her. He finally gets the courage to show her one. Jennifer loves it and becomes Marty’s (second) biggest cheerleader. Any audition, rehearsal, and rare performance Marty has, she’s there. She knows how much this means to him and she takes any opportunity to encourage him
By senior year, everyone seems to know what they want to do with their life, and Marty knows with absolute clarity what he wants to do too, but he’s so scared to take the leap and go for music. He wants this so badly and it means so much to him, and someone telling him he’s not good enough to make it would absolutely destroy Marty. So he keeps these dreams close to his chest and only tells Jennifer and Doc, who convinces Marty to send an audition to the record company
Making that audition tape is the most miserable experience ever. He does over 100 takes of the same song because if it’s not absolutely perfect Marty’s entire world is going to be destroyed. The recording is never perfect (and Doc tells Marty that no recording will never be perfect enough in Marty’s eyes, and what he has done is incredible but Marty doesn’t believe it)
In the timeline where Marty breaks his hand, the second he wakes up in the hospital and sees his mangled hand and feels the way his fingers move so disjointedly, he knows he screwed up and everything is ruined
The loss of music, which was the one thing that made Marty have hope in himself, sends him spiraling and leads to the broke version of him in 2015
In the timeline where everything works out and Marty doesn’t race, he ends up sending the audition to the record company right away. Obviously, insecurity, confidence issues, and an obsessive need for validation don’t just disappear with one trip to the old west, but after time travel, he’s able to put himself out there with his music a lot more
After time travel, Marty is stuck in his own head a lot. He’s often very confused about the terms of his own existence, and existentialism aside, he’s struggling to cope with trauma bc guilt from what happened on his travels. And while Marty doesn’t care what other people think of him that much anymore, his own opinion of himself has gotten worse, if anything.
Getting over the initial thoughts of ‘you’re not good enough so why even bother’ is a whole process but he and Doc work through it, and Marty is finally able to commit himself wholly to his music.
Being on stage and performing and just playing gives Marty a reprieve from the trauma and the confusion he’s dealing with and his music gives him another safe space
As Marty starts to heal more and more he also starts auditioning more, playing more confidently, performing his own music and Doc (who moved back to the present) is his biggest cheerleader and is there at every performance
The new McFly parents really push Marty to study music at a college so he can get a college degree, and Marty ends up auditioning for college and studying Guitar Performance with an emphasis on Music Education
He writes several albums, a few become huge sensations, he is able to tour for a bit and he performs quite a lot. Once the kids are born, he stops touring as much, and once they’re older, he pretty much fully stops so he can fully focus on them.
He becomes a music teacher instead and it allows him to encourage so many other budding musicians while still staying true to his own passions
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agerefandom · 3 years
Text
Something Wrong
Fandom: My Hero Academia
Characters: Regressor!Katsuki Bakugou (aka. Kacchan), worried!Izuku Midoriya (aka. Deku), worried!Shouta Aizawa (aka. Sensei), caregiver!Eijiro Kirishima, and the rest of 1A as background characters
Words: 4,000
Summary: Izuku notices Kacchan regressing in class and makes the mistake of following him when he leaves, intending to try and help. 
Content warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. Dissociation. Trauma. Bullying. Prevented (unintentional) self-harm. Self-neglect. Physical abuse. Verbal abuse. Mild burns. Blood. This fanfiction raises many questions and issues and doesn’t necessarily solve all of them, although everyone receives physical care by the end. 
Author’s Note: Please note the content warnings and exercise caution when reading. I just finished the third season of My Hero Academia, and I have many emotions about the way the relationship between Katsuki and Izuku is handled by both the writers and the characters in the show. I’m also aware that their dynamic is a popular one in the fandom, and thus something I might be asked to write when I open requests again. This story was my attempt at figuring out how I felt about that. (Conclusion: I’m willing to write regressor!Katsuki with other caregivers, but not with Izuku, and vice-versa. I promise my regressor!Katsuki fics will not all be this angsty. I just had to get this one out of my system.) 
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Something was wrong with Kacchan today.
Izuku spent a lot of time looking at Kacchan from day to day, since the taller boy’s head blocked his view of half the blackboard. Even in Junior High, Izuku found himself often watching Kacchan from the back of the class. He was always in motion: his leg bouncing and his fingers tapping on the sides of his desk.
Here in 1-A, many of the students had trouble sitting still. The classroom was always alive with the shifting of fabric and clicking of pens, and any students with sensory problems had to wear sound blockers when trying to get work done (Izuku himself took advantage of that sometimes, although it made his tendency to mumble a little worse).
Today, though, something about Kacchan’s tapping fingers was different. They wouldn’t stay on the desk. He kept lifting his hand to his face, tapping them against his jawline and then around to his mouth. Izuku couldn’t see what Kacchan was doing, but he knew that the other boy had often teased him for biting his fingernails in Junior High (Aww, are you sucking your thumb, Deku? I always knew you were just a baby!) so surely Kacchan wouldn’t have the same habit. And even more strangely, Kacchan kept whipping his hand down and away from his face, keeping it frozen at his side for a few minutes before his fingers started tapping against his leg and the entire cycle would restart.
There were other signs, too: Kacchan wasn’t taking notes, Izuku’s view of his notebook around his shoulder confirming that he was just scribbling random lines across the pages. As careless as Kacchan seemed, he was a good student, and his friends often asked to copy his notes. There must be something wrong, Izuku knew it.
Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night? Izuku knew that Kacchan had been having trouble sleeping since the kidnapping. He started playing loud music at all hours and snapping at anyone who asked him to turn it down, even Kirishima and Kaminari. Eventually, they had to bother Aizawa about it, and Kacchan had been threatened with his sound system being confiscated. That seemed to stop the noise, at least when it was lights-out. But Izuku could still hear him pacing sometimes.
Most of the class had nightmares about their various villain encounters, and insomnia meetups were a regular occurrence in the dormitory common rooms. It had been nice to find out that the others had been struggling to sleep since everything started. Izuku had originally assumed he was alone in the experience. Calming down after a nightmare was easier with Denki chattering about the game he was playing or Koda’s quiet presence sharing the space.
But Kacchan never came out of his room to join the others when he couldn’t sleep, and only the distant sounds of pacing and the darkening circles under his eyes allowed Izuku to notice when he was doing worse.
Shoot, Izuku had started missing some of Aizawa-sensei’s lecture because he was so distracted by Kacchan. He turned his attention back to his notes, scribbling desperately to catch up with the lecture slide before it changed. He could always borrow notes from Tenya, of course, but he didn’t like to bother his friends about things like that.
Izuku snuck another glance up and saw that Kacchan’s fingers were back up to his mouth. His head was tilted slightly down, as if he were looking at his notebook, but his pencil wasn’t moving.
Was Kacchan asleep, maybe? That wouldn’t last long: for all of Aizawa-sensei’s naps, he didn’t tolerate students falling asleep in lecture, his capture weapon quick to pull a napping student’s chair out from under them.
Just as Izuku started to worry, there was a harsh shriek of metal against floor as Kacchan pushed himself to his feet.
“Bathroom,” Kacchan blurted, and stalked for the door with his shoulders a tense line.
Confusion and worry warred in Izuku’s stomach, and he was standing before he could think twice about it.
“Same, yeah, bathroom,” Izuku said, and speed-walked out of the room before Aizawa could remind him that only one student was allowed to leave the class at a time, according to school rules.
The hall was empty, which meant that Kacchan must have taken off running as soon as he’d left the class.
Izuku paused as the door closed behind him, considering his options. There was a possibility that Kacchan had abandoned class entirely and gone back to the dorms, but he probably would have taken his backpack with him if that was the case. Usually, Kacchan went straight for the training rooms when he was upset, but they would be in use by classes right now.
In the absence of a better idea, Izuku decided to check the nearest bathroom and see if Kacchan had been telling the truth.
Izuku’s shoes squeaked quietly against the hallway as he approached the door to the boy’s bathroom and pushed it open. The sound gave him away, but he distinctly heard a gasp, followed by a sharp sniffle.
“Kacchan?” Izuku called out, letting the door close behind him.
There was no answer. Izuku walked fully into the bathroom, easily picking out the stall that Kacchan was hiding in. It was the only one with the door closed, but Izuku could see that Kacchan had pulled up his feet to avoid being seen. Something was definitely wrong, he’d never known Kacchan to be this desperate to hide.
“Kacchan, are you okay? Are you sick?” Izuku approached the door, straining his ears. He could hear Kacchan’s breathing, familiar from the years they had spent together.
“Fuck off, Deku,” Kacchan snapped.
Izuku could hear the tears in his voice, and something like curiosity unfurled in his chest. He hadn’t seen Kacchan cry in years. Izuku was the crybaby, and Kacchan was the one who got to tease him for it. What was going on?
“What’s wrong?” Izuku leaned against the line of sinks, staying in front of the stall. “Did something happen?”
“I told you to go away!” Kacchan shouted. “Nothing’s wrong, you idiot. Fuck off!”
“I’m not gonna leave you,” Izuku told the stall door. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he would get to the bottom of this. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Deku…”
Izuku could hear the warning in that growl, but he ignored it. Just as he always did.
“Come on, Kacchan.” Izuku tried a softer voice. “It’s okay! I’m not gonna make fun of you.”
Kacchan started to laugh, and something in Izuku’s stomach twisted. That wasn’t a good sound. It was strangled and getting louder, the tears abandoned for hysterical cackles. Izuku shifted to standing, but stayed in front of the stall. Maybe he was getting somewhere?
Sure enough, the lock clicked open, and the door swung inwards to reveal Kacchan.
Kacchan was standing on the floor now, his uniform even more rumpled that usual. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears still streaking his cheeks.
“You? Make fun of me?” he managed between the harsh laughter. “Deku, you wish.”
Kacchan stepped forwards, and Izuku knew what was going to happen only a second before his hand wrapped around Izuku’s neck and pushed him back into the line of sinks. Pain shot up through Izuku’s spine from where the edge of the counter hit his back. Kacchan didn’t stop pushing, forcing Izuku’s head to lean back against the mirror behind him.
Idiot, idiot, idiot. Always rushing in, Izuku lectured himself, closing his eyes to avoid the furious expression on Kacchan’s face. He had only wanted to help, but he knew Kacchan, and knew that he was at his most dangerous when he felt vulnerable. Why had he put himself in danger?
Force of habit, said a cynical voice in the back of Izuku’s head.
“You don’t listen, huh? Everyone thinks you’re so smart, but you and me know different.” Kacchan’s hand wasn’t pressing hard enough to cut off Izuku’s airflow, but he could feel his quirk starting to heat up the air between them, the sting of a thousand sparks jumping from Kacchan’s palm. Not enough to hurt, not really enough to leave burns, just a red mark that would fade in a few hours. Izuku kept his eyes closed. Kacchan had set off one of those tiny sparks in his eye once, and Izuku had needed an eyepatch for a whole week. Of course, Izuku had spent that time pretending to be Peg Leg the Pirate Hero, but it had still hurt.
“I was worried,” Izuku managed, bringing up his hand to try and tug Kacchan’s wrist away. Kacchan intercepted the attempt, making a tight fist around Izuku’s hand.
“Worried about me? You should worry about yourself, pipsqueak. You know I can take care of myself.” Pop pop went the tiny sparking explosions, starting to hurt the tender skin on the underside of Izuku’s chin. Those little burns could layer up and get painful eventually.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku said. “I know.”
“Do you? Do you really, Deku? Then why did you follow me?” Kacchan shouted, and Izuku felt spittle hit his cheeks.
“I don’t know!”
Izuku pushed out with his free hand, and was surprised when Kacchan’s grip on his throat subsided, the other boy stumbling back. He opened his eyes and saw his hands sparking, the power of One For All coming to his defense.
Kacchan had only been pushed a few steps back, and he was grinning now.
“You want to fight, shitty Deku? That why you followed me here?” The same little sparks were going off in Kacchan’s palms, flashes of light that made Izuku’s throat ache just watching them. At least they were away from his skin now.
“I don’t want to fight.” Izuku dismissed One For All, feeling the buzzing energy dissipate from his body. Kacchan’s cheeks were still blotchy, his eyes wild, and Izuku couldn’t bring himself to get on the offensive against him. “I’ll leave if you want.”
“Oh, no,” Kacchan hissed. “You had your chance to leave, but you just had to see me, huh? Wanted to gloat some more. Are you happy now, Deku? Want to rub it in?”
“I… no!” Izuku waved his hands in front of his face, feeling his eyes widen. “I’m not gloating! What? Why would I be happy that you’re sad?”
One moment, Kacchan was glaring down at Izuku with sparking palms, and then his face suddenly crumpled. His eyes closed, and he curled inwards, his quirk turning off as his hands went to grip his elbows. “Fuck,” Kacchan muttered. Izuku was close enough to hear his breathing hitch. “FUCK!” he shouted, and brought his hands up to his face, sparks flying again, this time against his own skin. It didn’t affect him, of course, his skin resistant to his own fire, but Izuku automatically started forwards. Kacchan’s eyes were still vulnerable, and he could damage himself.
The movement caught Kacchan’s attention. His head snapped up again, and Izuku could see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
“Deku?” Kacchan asked, and he sounded… confused.
“Y-yeah, it’s me,” Izuku said. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t-” Kacchan shook his head, bringing his hands up to his face again.
“Careful!” Izuku stepped forward and caught his hands, keeping the sparking palms away from Kacchan’s eyes, even as the tiny explosions started to burn Izuku’s fingers. “Kacchan, what’s wrong?”
Kacchan had frozen under Izuku’s touch, but Izuku could feel his hands shaking.
“What’s wrong?” he echoed, and his voice sounded wrong. Tense and tight and young. “What’s wrong with me, Deku?”
“It’s okay,” Izuku said. “You’re okay. It’s just anxiety, I think. Just breathe, okay?”
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
Izuku didn’t see the attack coming this time, as he was pushed back against the mirrors for a second time. This time, the push was less controlled, and he felt the back of his head hit the mirror with a cracking noise. Hopefully, that was the glass.
“Kacchan!” Izuku reached out, trying to grab his shoulders. “It’s just me, it’s okay.”
“Shut up!! Stop trying to… COMFORT ME!” Kacchan shouted, and backhanded Izuku across the face. The sharpness of the pain made Izuku gasp, but it was easy enough to bring his head back up. “I don’t need your help! I told you to leave!” And Kacchan hit him again. “I told you to leave me alone!”
This is familiar.
The sour smell of the bathroom, the hard line of the counter pressing into Izuku’s spine, and the surrender to the pain of blows to his face. Usually, it had been Kacchan with a number of other boys, two of them holding Izuku’s arms, but Kacchan had never really needed the physical backup. Izuku was helpless enough on his own. Quirkless, couldn’t even stand up to a friend. Couldn’t stand up to one person. The burns, the bruises, the feeling of floating above himself as the pain became sharper yet somehow more distant.
I’ve been here before.
Izuku couldn’t remember the first time Kacchan hit him. He felt like it should have been a turning point in their relationship, like it should have made him see the other boy differently. But Kacchan had always liked to hit people. Like heroes, he said, practicing his Detroit Smash on all his friends. Like heroes, he said, when he tied Izuku upside-down and left him for the teachers to find. He just wanted to be like a hero, and heroes talked with their fists.
Izuku could feel tears on his cheeks as blood filled his mouth, but he hated the tears more than the copper taste on his tongue. He hated that crying had always been his first line of defense. When he was excited, when he was sad, even when he was angry, he could barely speak through the tears that rose up and choked him. It was just more for Kacchan to mock, calling him a baby, calling him weak, calling him useless.
I’ve never been anywhere else.
Izuku couldn’t tell if Kacchan was using his quirk or just his fists. The sharp impacts felt the same at first whether his hands were on fire or not, the heat of the pain blocking out the deeper burns. He would only know later how bad the damage was, whether he would need to hide his face on his way back to the dorms.
It was a shock when the punches stopped.
Izuku stayed where he was, leaning back against the counter. He didn’t know if he could move if he tried. His arms felt numb, his face stinging, and his head was distantly aching. He could see through his eyes, but it felt like he was watching from a long way away as he watched Kacchan draw back and wipe his eyes.
They had both been crying this time. That was unusual.
What happened next was even more unusual.
“I’m sorry,” Kacchan whispered, then turned and walked out of the bathroom.
There was silence.
Izuku drew in the first breath he was aware of, and stood up. It hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. He turned and saw the splintered mirror behind him, blood streaking down it. Head wound. That explained the warmth soaking the back of his school uniform. They always bled a lot. He could see the shattered pieces of his reflection, a red puffy face and tears still rolling down his cheeks. It would be a few hours before the burns and bruises really become visible. For now, he was just red all over, as if he’d gotten a bad sunburn. By tomorrow, everything would be a rainbow of white and red and green-red-brown, but for now… it didn’t look so bad.
Izuku limped out of the bathroom and walked towards his class as quickly as he could manage. He knew he would disrupt the lecture, he knew the broken mirror would be charged to his mother, he knew it was going to suck to open the door, but it didn’t matter. He needed help.
Sure enough, Izuku pushed the door open and was met with a collective gasp from the class.
Aizawa was kneeling in front of Izuku before he knew what was happening, his hands resting gently on Izuku’s shoulders.
“Were you attacked?” Aizawa demanded, his eyes flickering over Izuku’s face and back to the door he’d walked through.
Izuku ignored his teacher, shrugging under Aizawa’s hands and dragging himself towards the person he came for.
“Kirishima,” Izuku said. “You need to find Kacchan, he’s really upset and I’m worried about him. I think he might be in danger. He wouldn’t listen to me, but… maybe you can help.”
Kirishima’s face swam in Izuku’s vision, shocked and concerned.
“Did he… are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Izuku smiled. “Please just find Kacchan.”
“O-okay?” Kirishima said, and Izuku stepped out of the way to let him leave.
“Deku!” Ochaco’s hands were the next to land on Izuku’s shoulders, less carefully than their teacher. Izuku fought the urge to flinch and smiled at her. “Did Bakugou do this? Are you okay? Oh my god, you’re bleeding a lot…”
“It’s just a head wound,” Izuku explained. “They bleed a lot.”
“Do you have a concussion?” That was Tenya in front of him now. With how much his vision was swimming, it probably was a concussion.
“Don’t worry!” Izuku said, trying to wave them off, but then Tsuyu was also in front of him, looking worried. “I’m okay! I’m sorry for interrupting the lesson!”
“He looks like he’s gonna pass out,” Denki commented.
“I’m not going to pass out!” Izuku said. “I’m fine!” He had a concussion, sure, but he’d gone to class with a concussion before. He would probably miss most of the notes, but that was okay. He could catch up later. “I need to text Kirishima…”
“You’ll do no such thing.” Aizawa was there again, looming over Izuku’s classmates. Izuku winced, dropping his eyes to the ground. He was definitely going to get in trouble. “Everyone, back to your seats. Stop crowding him.” Izuku moved to obey, but Aizawa’s hand blocked him. “Not you, Midoriya, stay where you are.”
“I’m sorry,” Izuku said. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” He risked a glance upwards and saw Aizawa’s unreadable expression, his mouth more downturned than usual. “I should have… I thought I could help. I’m sorry.”
“You’re a hero, Midoriya,” Aizawa sighed, and Izuku had never heard anyone say the word ‘hero’ with so much weight. It didn’t sound like a compliment. “Of course you thought you could help. Can you walk to Recovery Girl, or should I carry you?”
“I can walk, sir! But I really don’t need to visit Recovery Girl. She… doesn’t want to see me anymore.” Izuku winced, thinking back to all the times she had threatened to stop treating his injuries if he didn’t stop visiting so often.
“That isn’t her decision,” Aizawa said in a tone that allowed no argument. “Her job is to treat our students. And my job is to protect them. Now, for the rest of you, I expect you to behave while I’m gone. Start any more trouble and you will be expelled when I return. I’m not lying this time.”
From the dead silence that met his words, no one doubted him.
“Come on, Midoriya.” A hand was offered, wavering in Izuku’s reluctant vision. It took him two attempts to accept the hand, his depth perception all but gone. Eventually, though, Aizawa’s fingers wrapped around his, and Izuku was led out into the hallway. Aizawa’s grip was gentle, but Izuku could still feel the callouses on his fingers and palm, the marks of a lifetime of hero work.
It was easy to focus on that warm sensation as Izuku stumbled down the hallway after Aizawa’s long-legged strides, his head spinning.
“I really am sorry, Aizawa-sensei.”
“Save it until it’s time to tell your story,” Aizawa told him. “I won’t make you go over it while you have a concussion, but we’ll talk after.”
“Okay,” Izuku said meekly.
I hope Kacchan is okay, Izuku thought as he followed Aizawa into the elevator, trying to stay on his feet as the world spun around him.
--
Eijiro leaned back against the wall, breathing a deep sigh of relief.
Katsuki was curled up with his head on Eijiro’s lap, his favourite stuffie tucked under one arm. Eijiro’s cheek hurt, where Katsuki had gotten a strike in before Eijiro’s quirk had been able to protect him. Eijiro’s quirk was what made him able to be Katsuki’s caregiver, able to stand up to the worst of his tantrums. And today had been a bad one.
The walls were scorched, and even Eijiro’s hair was blackened. Eijiro had tried not to fight Katsuki, but eventually he had to protect the room from being set on fire. It was always awful, holding Katsuki down as he screamed threats and struggled and wept. But eventually, the tension had drained from his body and left him sobbing, and Eijiro had let his skin soften and pulled him into an embrace, Katsuki melting against him.
Katsuki had fallen asleep as soon as he’d stopped crying, and Eijiro had no idea what mood he would be in when he woke up: ready for another fight or craving cuddles and nostalgic cartoons.
Eijiro thought of Midoriya’s face, all red and wounded but trying to smile, waving away Eijiro’s concern and worrying only about Katsuki.
We can’t keep going like this.
Midoriya didn’t deserve the treatment he got from Katsuki, they all knew that, but there was nothing they could do. Katsuki turned on his friends just as fast, accusing them of taking the other side. Eijiro only knew bits and pieces of the pair’s history, and it had always disturbed him, but… it had never seemed like his business. Now he wondered if he should have put his foot down sooner.
Something was wrong with the two of them. Midoriya, all bloody and raw and waving them away with that innocent smile, as if he didn’t feel the pain at all. Katsuki, desperate for affection, screaming as Eijiro’s arms had wrapped around him, struggling until he was too exhausted but accept the simplest kindness of human touch. Constantly lashing out at anything that tried to help him.
Eijiro had always wanted to stand by Katsuki, but sometimes he found himself scared of Katsuki’s actions and where it would lead them. He wanted to believe that he would stand up to Katsuki if he ever went too far, but…
The image of Midoriya’s tear-streaked, smiling face flashed in Eijiro’s mind again.
How far is too far?
Eijiro closed his eyes and tried to push away all the big questions. He needed to rest so that he could be ready for whatever mood Katsuki would wake up in.
Maybe they could figure this out. Maybe he could ask for help, explain what’s going on. Someone else must know better than him. He was only fifteen, after all. How was he supposed to help, really? Why hadn’t anyone stepped in already? It felt like something was terribly wrong, but maybe this was normal. Was he worrying too much? Was he worrying too little?
Eventually, Eijiro managed to fall asleep like that, sitting up against the wall with his thoughts running in circles and Katsuki’s head resting softly in his lap.
54 notes · View notes
whump-town · 4 years
Text
Take Me to Church
Here it is: my religious!Hotch fic turned Bisexual!Hotch fic. I hope you enjoy my hard work, tears, and disaster bi-thoughts  
Warning: language, sex, homosexuality **there’s no real need for a warning for that but I’d just like to market this to my fellow gays**, religious trauma, Catholic guilt, child abuse, smoking, mention of AIDS in passing but no one has it, character death(s) **not anyone major**, Aaron Hotchner’s mega big boy grande sized guilt complex, ooc bc Aaron Hotchner has the proper emotions, and just general all around intense feelings 
The only Heaven I'll be sent to, Is when I'm alone with you, I was born sick, but I love it, Command me to be well
Word count:  5,794
Praying never made much sense to Aaron Hotchner. 
As a child, he’d prayed with crimson teeth and a bleeding tongue for his mother to be spared in his father’s rampant beatings. The priest always said that prayer shouldn’t be selfish. As he sat on his bruised knees and whispered between sobs, he hadn’t been thinking about himself. He’d been thinking about the little brother in his mother’s womb. About the pregnancy that wouldn’t survive if his father didn’t stop hitting on her. About his poor mother who looked sicker each day.
He must have done something wrong because when God had answered his prayers...
“Come on now son. Don’t be difficult,” the priest’s heavy hands pull him away from his mother’s grave. His suit hadn’t fit well that morning but logged with the rain pouring overhead, it now hangs from his bones. They make their way back home. Back to his miserable son of a bitch father. 
That night, the priest had tucked him into bed and Aaron rolls over in his bed to put his back to the man. As the old man turned to cut the lights, Aaron finally speaks for the first time all day. He’d found his voice deep within his chest and laced it with his father’s unhinged anger. “I killed her,” he whispers, hot tears running down his cheeks. 
The priest shakes his head. “No.” And, the old man could never know this, but what he said next would stay with Aaron for the rest of his life. “It was her time, son.”
God had killed her.
That day was the first time Aaron had ever seen his father cry. He’d stood in the hallway and watched his father sob on his knees, cursing God and swearing up a storm. At seven-years-old, he wondered if God had a sense of humor. He must, after all, to leave Aaron all alone. 
Ten-years later he stood in the same spot his father had kneeled in. He’d looked up at the ceiling and prayed again. He’d begged for his father’s life to be spared. “Just this once, okay, just this once---” but his father had never been a good man. A shitty excuse for a dad but Sean thinks he’s a good man. That’s what mattered: Sean. That’s the only thing that had ever mattered. “For Sean, please? He’s never done anything wrong.”
His father died two days later. A heart attack. The doctor’s called it mercy. For who? The man who beat him senseless for fifteen years before he just sold Aaron off to a boarding school. Calling Aaron’s inability to make friends and emotional outbursts the product of the devil and not his senseless beating. The same man who called Aaron writing with his left hand the simplest proof that his mother had been a whore. She had to have cheated to have created a bastard like Aaron.
Mercy? Is that really what he’d deserved?
He has bible scriptures carved into his back. Thin white lines left by his father’s heavy hand and the black belt he wore to court each Tuesday. The only mercy he’s ever known is the black surrounder right before he falls asleep. That twisted hope that maybe his dad hit him too hard. That he won’t wake up this time. 
It felt like communion-- Eucharist, standing to receive his bread and wine. 
The body of Christ.
“Daddy please-” he makes no sound as the belt comes down over his shoulder. Any noise is a symbol of greater guilt, a better reason to keep hitting. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t move. 
Amen.
Remember, God is always watching. No bullshitting, he knows.
Aaron cums with a cry. A sob really. 
Sam lifts his head from where he’s buried it in Aaron’s neck, leaving the hickey he’d been sucking to die on its own. He sits up, his arousal forgotten as his heart pounds in his chest with fear. “Are you alright,” he asks, pulling them apart with a quick jerk. His hands are traveling down but he stops when Aaron’s hand grabs his wrist. “Baby, if I hurt you---”
Aaron shakes his head but the tears streaming down his face says otherwise. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. He buries his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he can’t stop the tears. Sam moves out of the way of his legs, giving Aaron the space necessary to curl into himself.
Sam still has no idea what’s wrong. It had been fine. Things were fine. 
It occurs to him a moment too late.
“Fuck,” he curses, seething. Not at Aaron or the mood now officially lost--- but for the boy that Aaron never got to be. To the God that Aaron believes so feverishly and unwavering in. “It’s alright,” he soothes, moving along the bed to where Aaron is. He pulls his boyfriend into his lap, holding Aaron to his chest. “Nothing is going to happen, Aaron. It’s going to be okay.”
Sam has never been religious. It wasn’t something his parents had considered important. Standing at over 6’5 and two hundred pounds of just muscle, no one even suspects he’s anything but straight. People who do know… no one’s going to say anything to a guy like him. The same thing goes for Aaron. He may be a little on the scrawny side but he’s 6’2 and no one blinks an eye at the two of them spending so much time together. 
It’s not people they have to worry about. 
They can be cruel and unaccepting but AIDS is still rampant through-out not only the college’s campus but through-out the gay community. 
But Aaron’s a little too preoccupied with God. 
Sam’s not even sure if there’s such a thing.
“Aaron!” Picking him up by his shoulders, he pulls Aaron upright. They’ve passed sobbing and moved to a panic attack. “Alright,” Sam fails to soothe. He pulls Aaron off the bed, holding him close when his legs shake beneath him. “Easy,” he mumbles, his heartbreaking--- Aaron can’t walk. It takes a great bit of work on Sam’s part but with a grunt, he lifts Aaron off his feet.
Stumbling in the direction of the bathroom, he carries Aaron. “It’s gonna be alright,” Sam promises. This isn’t the first time this has happened. Sam would like to think he’s a good boyfriend (he is). He did as much research as he could. So that he would know how to help Aaron the next time one of these events started happening.
Into the freezing shower they go. 
Clutched, naked body to naked body, they rock until Aaron’s broken sobs die down. Until Sam can feel Aaron’s breathing steady out, hot exhales washing over his goosebump riddled flesh.
Against the bare skin of Sam’s shoulder, Aaron whispers Hail Mary to himself. His long fingers tapping against his thumb like counting rosary beads, “---of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now---” It’s the only coping mechanism he’s ever learned. 
Sam presses a kiss to his temple. Aaron hates that he turns his head for more. Turns his head until Sam’s hands are tangled in his hair and holding him tightly. Sam kisses him softly, full of love. He doesn’t deserve that.
“Sodomy is a sin,” he whispers, against Sam’s lips. 
Sam smiles, shaking his head. He doesn’t care. “Did you like it,” Sam asks, voice husky. He wraps himself back around Aaron, shaking from the cold of the water still pouring down over them. Fingers moving up Aaron’s back, he tangles them in his hair. 
Aaron… knows the answer. He also knows that sin is often appealing. Sam is the sin that Aaron can never walk away from. What he always comes back for. “Yes,” he answers, honestly. He had liked it. He’d liked it a lot. Sex with Sam is gentle and overwhelming and--- sin. It’s still sin. 
“That’s all that matters,” Sam presses kisses back to Aaron’s neck. Smiling against his skin when Aaron arches into the touch. 
Aaron can never make Sam understand that this principle isn’t that simple. It’s a black and white morality. Heaven or hell. 
But, maybe… 
Sam reaches around behind him and cuts the water off, Aaron shivers against his chest leaning closer to the touches that are trailing down his body. Sam pulls him closer so that Aaron’s in his lap. With a grunt, Aaron allows Sam to push into him and mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure he falls into Sam’s shoulder. 
“Jesus,” Sam curses, pulling Aaron closer. “You---” he moans, tilting his head back. This time, Aaron’s sets the pace. Slow and steady. It hurts but it’s an ache he’s familiar with. The lube from earlier mostly washed away but he’s prepped and anything is better than thinking about Hell. 
His doomed eternity. 
“You’re so good, baby boy.” Sam holds him close, his fingers digging into Aaron’s hips. “Fu-Fuck---”
Why is it that the only thing that has ever made sense to him a sin?
Sam dies in the middle of first semester their Junior year. Though it’s never stated, it’s Aaron’s fault. Sam wouldn’t have been on the road that if Aaron just prayed harder or been a better man. Panic attacks are a product of a shaky relationship with God and Aaron wouldn’t have had one, he wouldn’t have called Sam freaking out, if he’d just… believed harder. 
Aaron knows it’s his fault. He never gets over that guilt. 
He marries Haley at the end of Senior year and they invite Sam’s parents to the wedding. No one knows the true extent of Aaron and Sam’s relationship but Haley knows something was going on between the two. They’d been high school sweethearts, separated by his years spent away at college. Separated by Aaron’s love for a man.
He comes home different but she loves him. She also knows that her mother approves of Aaron’s God-fearing ways. Religion is good in a man like him, her mother had warned, you can see the darkness in him. She bites her tongue and moves on. 
Until she sees the darkness too.
The divorce breaks him. 
He starts having panic attacks again, worse than the ones in college. No one notices. He knows they just write him off as a dick. He’s just a robot to them. Emotionless and he can work with that. So, he is a robot. Just marching through life and flying by the seat of his pants, hoping that it all goes well. 
But he knows… each night as the panic bubbles in his chest and has him falling to his knees that hell is the only place he’s going. It’s going to take more than prayers to save a sinner like him.
“Hotch?” He jumps at the sudden intrusion. Looking to his left, none other than Emily Prentiss is standing on the balcony. She’s grinning from ear to ear and shaking her head. “What are you doing up so late?”
The cigarette trapped between his lips should answer that well enough.
The thing is, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. She’s noticed him pulling away. Dave has noticed--- hell, everyone has noticed something is wrong. So, when Emily Prentiss had been tossing and turning in her own bed and smelled the wafting, faint scent of cigarette smoke she’d gotten curious. She certainly hadn’t expected to find him.
“Mind some company?”
And with those three simple words she’d pulled him from the edge. 
That night they burned through four cigarettes. Sin, that night, had been just as he remembered it once being. For a moment, as he stood--- her leaning against him and him leaning against her--- he had managed a smile. With a cigarette between his teeth, he’d taken his first real breath in years. 
Foyet attacks him in his apartment and as he lies bleeding he hopes this is it. That the world will flicker out, he’s just a candle drowning it’s wax. Will there be a light or…
He wakes up in the hospital and he’s never been this cold in his life.
It’s Emily’s voice that pulls him from the white walls and the pain. She’s saying something about cigarettes and the seasons changing. He smiles, drugged and submissive, when she proposes the team go to Dave’s and get drunk. He doesn't’ even think about God, about the sin and the eternity in hell waiting for him. He just thinks about his team and the only family he’s ever really been a part of. 
He wakes up thrashing--- a broken sob on his lips. There’s so much pain and he can’t think about anything other than death. Death and Hell and sin and the pain, oh fuck the pain. 
Thin fingers wrap around his, squeezing and he looks up and finds JJ softly soothing him. Her fingers are ghosting along his forearms, rubbing circles into his pale skin. “Just breathe,” she instructs and he’s reminded of Sam and that freezing shower and the---
“Aaron!” she calls and the fortitude, the conviction in her eyes sobers him. “You have to stop,” she tells him, her touch turning hard and that he can focus on. That pulls him back down. “Breathe,” and slowly he relaxes again. She’s softened and he watches the tears pool in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” she chides, softly.
He manages to squeeze her hand.
“We almost lost you,” she whispers and that hadn’t occurred to him. His death happens to other people. It’ll just be… nothing. He must be very high or maybe broken because he thinks of nothing. The nothingness that happens after death and not raging, flaming pits of hell. 
JJ presses a kiss to his temple and he closes his eyes. It’s a tender love he… he’s forgotten. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she says, her thumb rubbing against his hand. “I don’t like job hunting.”
He doesn’t know how to tell her that the team wouldn’t fall apart if Foyet had chosen to kill him.
She doesn’t know how to tell him that isn’t true.
Foyet does kill Haley and for a long time, it’s like he’s killed Hotch too.
“Hotch!”
The last he’d seen of Emily, she was displeased with his decision to decline his invitation to girl’s night. First, of all, he’s not that dumb. He knew damn well that they wanted him to tag along because Emily had told them about his date with the cute blonde at the coffee shop had gone tits up. Of course, she’d chosen to leave out that his date had failed because she’d entered the shop and wolf-whistled at the sight of him.
But, she has chosen to blame the entire thing on him because he should have told her.
Ah, silly him.
Now, he’s waiting on his front porch for Will to drop her off at his place. Does she have an apartment of her own? Yes. But she’s a clingy drunk and it’s custom for her to come to sleep in his bed. Besides, who else is going to hold her hair up while she pukes?
He smiles when he sees her. God… leave it to him to pick Emily Prentiss, of all people, to be his best friend. Well, he’s not really sure he chose or picked her so much as ended up within her mercy. “Emily,” he greets softly, smiling when she walks right up to him and headbutts his chest. She just falls straight into him. 
He shuffles to accommodate her weight but they do this little dance frequently. With one hand on the back of her head, he raises the other to wave to Will that he’s free to go. The detective nods and pulls the car into reverse, JJ and Garcia in the back shouting their own goodbyes.
“Alright,” Hotch rubs her shoulders, shivering from the night’s chill. “Pigging back ride?” 
She nods and it’s only with practiced ease that they manage this so easily. 
As he stands, he gives her a second to adjust herself before he starts walking back towards his porch. This is the exact reason he does squats at the gym, so his thighs don’t shake as he carries her up the stairs. 
“Oh,” Emily whines into his back, where her face is buried. “I hope I didn’t wake Jack.”
He’s overly careful to make sure he doesn’t hit her legs as he steps into the door. Stopping to shut the door behind them he tells her, “he’s not here.” He scowls with concentration as he moves down the hall. “He’s spending the weekend with his cousins.” He’d told her this earlier, too many times. It is one of the smaller reasons she’d invited him to girls night: so he wouldn’t have to be alone in his house. 
They share many secrets. He’d been the first person on the team to know she’s gay. He still remains one of the few who know. JJ and Garcia know-- tequila always makes her lose her grip. He also knows that she wants to have a family and about her giant crush on JJ. 
Just like she knows that sitting in his empty house stresses him out. He turns into the empty walls and all he can think about is being completely alone while Foyet was trying to hunt down his son and Haley. She knows this and… she’d left him here all by himself.
“Emily,” he whispers, feeling her hot tears soak into the back of his shirt. He’s not mad or even frustrated, he’s just sad. He can’t do anything about it just yet. So, he takes her back to his room. He helps her out of her blouse, replacing it with his George-town hoodie so she can curl her legs into. 
Only once she’s situated, his back turned so she can hiccup and dry her tears while she slips into a pair of her own shorts he kneels down in front of her. “Emily.” He shakes his head, she’s still inconsolable, so he pulls her to his chest. “Emily, I’m a grown man.” He rubs her back, “I can handle being in my own home.”
She only cries harder and it hurts him because whatever it is that’s really bothering her he can’t fix. 
“Would you love me more if I wasn’t a lesbian,” she asks, sobbing into his shoulder.
Well… he blanks. What is he even supposed to say to that? Now she’s really crying and he’s-- he can’t think of a single thing to say. “Emily…” he shakes his head. “I--I don’t care that you’re a lesbian.” And why would he? How many times have they had the ‘it would be like kissing my brother/sister’ conversation? Or the ‘even if I were straight…’? He doesn’t feel sexually attracted to her. 
He just… he loves her because she’s his family. 
“You don’t,” she asks, sniffling. She pushes his shoulders away from her so that she can see his eyes. So she can see if he’s lying. “You don’t hate me?” Because she’s certain that he does sometimes. Like he can stand the thought of her. 
He shakes his head. “It would be very hypocritical of me to hate you for being gay,” he says, without really thinking about what that means. At what he’s admitting.
Though she doesn’t say anything, the admission sobers her. With tender care he tucks her into bed. Smiling softly when she pulls him down beside her.
They fall asleep on their sides, facing one another. He falls asleep first. Too exhausted to wait her out. Between them, she gently reaches over and brushes her thumb over his cheek bone. Trialing it along the facial hair he’s let grow over the course of their long weekend off. 
He breaks her heart.
“So, are we just not going to talk about it?”
They’re watching a basketball game from earlier in the week because it’s Tuesday and she gets to pick what they watch on Tuesdays. Granted, it’s sports and he hates sports which means that he gets to pick whether or not they sit close. She knows something is wrong because he puts the entire couch between them. They’re not even sharing a blanket and he always lets her have some of his blankets.
She gets cold easily. 
“Talk about what, Emily?” The way he says her name… it’s not right. He always says Emily kindly, loving. He says her name and it makes her proud to be Emily but this time it’s a reprimand and she sees it for exactly what it is—- an attempt to push her away. To make her feel afraid to push on.
But she’s been gay for so long, openly gay. It takes more than a little bit of attitude to scare her off. “You,” she says, softly. “You’re gay, Aaron, and—-“
He flinches at the word gay. Recoiling. “Emily,” his tone shifts to pleading. 
“You—-“ she shifts too. She turns her body to face her, no longer relaxed. “Aaron, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”
Sodomy, Aaron thinks. First and for most, there’s sodomy and it’s a sin to love a man. A sin to love men in a way he could never love Haley. Which Emily would understand if he told her about his sex life with Haley. Rather, his nonexistent sex life with Haley. He loved Haley so much but he could never love her the right way. The way God had intended.
By the time he manages to raise his eyes to hers, there are tears streaming down his face. He’s so helplessly broken and he can’t even hide it.
“Oh, Aaron.” Emily pulls him against her chest, rubbing up and down his back as he sobs. “I��” she doesn’t know what to say. She knows it’s the Catholisim here at play but her youth was so very different from his. Matthew had saved her from the fate Aaron had succumbed to. Matthew had shown her the churches many faults and…
Aaron had no one. 
No one but the Bible and a God who never answered back.
“There’s nothing wrong with being gay,” she whispers, rocking their bodies gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you Aaron.”
He sobs even harder. He wishes he could believe that. He does. He wishes he could but…
They agree to never talk about it. Meaning, Emily begrudgingly lets it go.
The universe isn’t ready for Hotch to shove it under the rug though.
There’s this barista at the coffee shop downtown--- more than a barista, he’s the owner, actually. He’s a giant. He almost makes Hotch feel small in comparison. In college, he’d been a football player but he’d messed his knee up pretty bad Junior year. He became dependent on the painkillers he’d received after surgery. He’d dropped out of college a few months later.
Hotch learns all of this only after two coffees.
One that he has Monday with the man’s phone-number and name scribbled onto the side of his cup. His cheeks had turned a furious shade of pink when Morgan had asked who Charlie is and if she was pretty. For some reason, despite coaching himself over and over in the mirror that he’d never go back--- Hotch goes back to the coffee shop Thursday. 
This time as Hotch is handing the other man a five dollar bill he adds his own phone-number and name attached with a simple sticky-note.
He’s not even out the door yet when his phone vibrates. 
“I thought I’d scared you off, mysterious FBI man.”
It makes him stop in his tracks. A smile tugs at his lips and there isn’t a single thought in his head about church or God or his father just this impossibly good feeling in his chest. It’s been so long since he’s done the flirting thing but he replies: “As good as mysterious FBI man sounds, I typically go by Aaron. Besides, it takes a little bit more than a phone-number to scare me off”
The texts keep coming and Hotch doesn’t mind.
Charlie tells him about college and Hotch tells him about the team. It’s out of character for him to be so open but it’s just coffee and flirting and a really hot barista. 
The feeling is very mutual.
“Kiss me, g-man.”
Hotch shakes his head, chuckling when Charlie throws his hips over Hotch’s waist. “You’d better---” whatever threat he’s making half-heartedly turns into a groan when Charlie starts planting open mouth kisses along his collar. Sucking a hickey under his ear where it will be painfully obvious to the team. 
When Hotch lets out a grunt, his hand grabbing at Charlie’s shirt and the other going to his hair Charlie laughs. He buries his face in Hotch’s neck, his hand traveling down to the front of his pants. “Is that your gun?” he pulls back with a smirk. 
Lightly, he pushes Aaron back on the bed. Charlie’s nimble fingers wrap around his jeans, pulling the tight fabric off of his ass. 
“I don’t remember asking for this,” Hotch grunts, fist clenched tightly in the bedsheets. It’s the only way he can assure that he won’t go bucking into Charlie’s palm the minute he starts touching again. He’s not going to cave like that.
To his credit, Charlie stops. He plants his hands on both sides of Hotch’s hips, his mouth sending a dangerous gust of warm air over Hotch’s straining cock. He lifts an eyebrow, “say the word, Aaron.” Say the word and it stops. They don’t dance along fancy lines like that. Charlie wouldn’t do that. 
Sitting up, Aaron wraps his legs around Charlie’s hips. He runs his fingers up through Charlie’s hair, kissing him. With a smile he pulls away and whispers, “fuck me, Charlie.”
And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do just that. 
Sodomy is way better than Aaron remembers.
They’re about three months into this when Charlie learns that Hotch hasn’t told a soul about him. At least, not really. Not past the point of passing in conversation. Hell, he hasn’t even told them that Charlie isn’t some bombshell blonde woman but a 6’4 black man who owns the coffee shop. 
“Fine,” Hotch caves despite the anxiety leaving him so unnerved he’s shaking. “Do you want to come with me to Dave’s this weekend?” He’s got an edge to his tone. He’s hoping Charlie takes the bait and rolls his eyes. He almost hopes for a fight.
Charlie nods his head, “I would like to, actually.”
Fuck. 
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
It’s not okay. It’s far from it. 
He sits on edge for the rest of the week. Begging for a case. None come.
If Charlie has anything to say about Hotch letting go of his hand when they step out of the car, he doesn’t say anything. He does offer him a supportive smile, reaching between them to squeeze Aaron’s bicep.
“Dave,” Hotch breathes the other man’s voice and Charlie can hear the panic seeping into his deep tone. But then he just blanks. 
Charlie stretches his hand out, “I’m Charlie.”
Dave gets over his momentary shock very quickly. “Charlie,” Dave shakes his head with a smile. He avoids the hand being offered and pulls the younger man in for a hug. “I have heard so much about you! I was just a little shocked. I was expecting--”
Charlie laughs, “a woman.”
Dave claps him on the back. “Well, yes, I was.” He smiles at Hotch next, pulling him in for a hug too. Dave can feel just how unnerved Hotch is but he doesn’t comment. He just squeezes him a little tighter. “More so,” Dave says, “I was expecting a blonde. He really likes blondes.”
Charlie glances back at Aaron, keeping his smile in place even when Aaron can’t look up from his intense battle with the floor. 
“Well, come on in! I’ve got enough bourbon and food in here to feed a small army!”
Charlie steps inside first, Aaron hot on his heels.
Charlie turns around, to look back at Aaron. Calling the other man’s name for attention. “Aaron,” he calls softly, grabbing his hand. “Show me to the bathroom.” 
Hotch nods his head, eyes vacant as he moves on through the room. Ghosting. “It’s, ugh,” Hotch points lamely to the door. 
Charlie pulls him into the small room. Aaron making a small grunt of protest. “Look at me,” says, stern but not overbearing. “Aaron, please.”
It takes a moment but Aaron pulls his eyes off the floor. He grimaces when a tear falls down his cheek, ashamed of this display of emotion. This vulnerability.
With a sad smile, Charlie wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “They didn’t know did they?”
Leaning forward, Hotch buried his face in Charlie’s blue t-shirt. It’s old and soft and it does nothing to slow his tears. He shakes his head. “They didn’t.”
Fuck. Charlie wraps his arms around Hotch, pulling him close. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
What other options are there? If Charlie hadn’t forced his hand Hotch would have happily died in the blissful lie he’d created. He could have died alone. No need to come out. Hell, if he’d just found another blonde woman he could have married her and died “straight”. 
Anything is better than this in-between. 
“Aaron,” Charlie breathes his name sadly. He doesn’t know what to say. His family had disowned him. So, he can’t just reassure Aaron it’ll be okay but Dave took it so well. “Have you even given them a chance?”
Well… Dave did take it very well and Emily already knows. 
“No,” he answers honestly. 
Charlie presses a kiss to his temple, asking, “maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt?”
A knock at the door makes them both jump. 
“Hotch,” Reid whines from the other side. “I really have to go.”
Hotch smiles and that makes Charlie smile. “Good?” he asks.
Hotch nods, “good.”
The pair step out of the bathroom. 
Reid blushes and slides past. 
“You don’t think he thinks we were…”
Hotch nods, “more than likely.”
Heading back down the hall, Charlie leans into Hotch’s side. “Which one was that?”
“Reid.”
Charlie hums his understanding. Cuter than he’d imagined. Aaron had said tall and thin but it really did the genius no justice. He’s an attractive young man. “You didn’t tell me he was cute.”
Wrapping his arm around Charlie’s waist he pulls the other man closer. His heart is beating hard in his chest but he kisses the other man, closing his eyes and enjoying this moment. Separating just enough to say, “I think he said he plays for your team. If you’re interested.”
“My team,” Charlie repeats. He runs a finger along Aaron’s brow, sweeping his hair back. “My team is you,” Charlie rolls his eyes. “Doofus.”
Hotch’s jaw drops. “Doofus?” 
Charlie smiles, “my doofus.”
Emily stops at the mouth of the hall, having heard the dee rumbling sound of voices “That’s fucking adorable.”
Hotch groans, pushing his face into Charlie’s chest. 
“Don’t groan at me,” she says. “You’re the bastard that came out to me. Ghosted me. Then went and got a boyfriend.”
Hotch grimaces, “Emily…”
She waves him, turning her attention to Charlie. “You,” she sticks her hand out and they share a handshake. “You got yourself a good one. He can be an ass though.”
Charlie chuckles at that, “he really can be. Also, insufferable.”
Emily opens her mouth in happy shock. “Right? What about him being a know-it-all?”
Charlie nods, “don’t forget being a tight ass.”
Hotch feels a comment about their sex lives attempting to roll of his tongue. Something along the lines of Charlie saying he’d liked his ass last night— instead he just grunts. “Enough about me,” he grumbles. 
Emily smiles at both of them. She really is happy. Hotch deserves to be happy. With a smirk she motions for them to follow her. “Come on, drinks?”
Somehow, despite everything Hotch had convinced himself, everything is fine.
Charlie ends up wondering off with Morgan. The two deep into a conversation about a beam Morgan’s building around. Hotch had watched Charlie gag down Garcia’s awful shots and listen to Reid talk about thermodynamics.
And when Hotch’s anxiety started getting bad again, Charlie was right there. Hotch hadn’t said anything, he didn’t even close himself off. Emily had just excused herself to go yell about something with JJ, leaving him leaning against the bar in the kitchen. But Charlie had come up and squeezed his hand. Winking for good measure. Hotch’s anxiety, like his heart, melted into a puddle around his feet.
“Goodbye,” Emily wishes them a farewell. She kisses both their cheeks and holds on to Hotch a moment longer than she normally would. “So, does this mean we’re back on for movie nights?”
Hotch nods. He’s missed their movie nights. He’s missed hanging out with her. 
In the end, it’s the two of them and Dave.
Hotch’s anxiety rears it’s ugly head. Another painful reminder of the childhood he’ll never escape. Of God and sin and hell. The Catholic Church is solid force in Dave’s life and he’s askin Dave to choose. And Aaron knows he’s not going to be chosen.
“You boys good to drive home?” Dave hands Charlie a Tupperware container of leftovers.
Charlie nods, “we’re okay.”
Well, Charlie is. Hotch is little tipsy and one wrong word away from throwing up on the porch. 
“Be safe,” Dave says, pulling Charlie in for a hug first. He pats his back, lowering his head to whisper. “Take care of my boy, you here?”
It makes Charlie smile. They’d briefly discussed Aaron’s real father but Charlie can see exactly what Aaron had meant when he said Dave had been the man that raised him. He’s gentle and firm and Charlie is glad Aaron was able to find a father. “Of course,” Charlie responds. “Someone has to.”
That makes Dave chuckle. Damn right. 
“Come here, son.” Aaron’s always been bigger than Dave, not that he minds. He pulls him down into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Lowering his voice he whispers, “I’m glad you brought Charlie. He’s a good man. I’m proud of you.”
Hotch feels the dam break. He wraps his arms tighter around Dave, all of his youth and sexuality and feelings finally making sense. He doesn’t have to chose. He can be himself and be happy, it’s allowed. 
Aaron Hotchner didn’t kill his mother or his mother. He’s always done his best and that’s all he can do.
“You’re a good man,” Dave whispers, rubbing his back.
And… Aaron might just be starting to believe him. 
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piratadelamor · 4 years
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i’m rereading haikyuu and i really wanna talk about chapter 23 and the “as long as i’m here, you’re invincible” scene… i’m putting under a keep reading because it’s long!!
we all talk about kageyama’s lack of communication skills. he has a really hard time trying to adapt to the spikers, which first starts with communication. saying the right words and listening. there was always a gap, mostly because he couldn’t say what he really wanted due to fear, and his words always slipped out taken by emotion, twisted and hard to swallow. kageyama’s usually pretty quiet outside of the court, and while playing this side of him always stands out. but i don’t really think his problem is communication. and it’s this scene that caught me up.
hinata sees karasuno’s ace playing for the first time and, despite getting him fired up at first, at some point he overthinks it too much: “if i had height and power like that…”, which leads him to get hit by a ball on the face. everyone worries about him getting hurt, but kageyama’s the only one who understood what was really going on inside him. they’ve know each other and played together for less than a month, but he already gets hinata so well.
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kageyama’s been listening. that’s why we see these flashbacks of hinata talking about being the ace. he’s been paying attention all the time. and not only he reads hinata perfectly, but the way he decides to handle it couldn’t’ve been better. he didn’t slip on his words, they were straight to the point. but to give hinata some words of encouragement wouldn’t be enough. communication isn’t only about talking and listening. we communicate through gestures, actions, through a look, a touch, a smile. the way kageyama thought of communicating what he wanted was to prove, with action, what he meant.
so, without hesitation, this setter, who even said before that he wouldn’t toss to anyone who was useless for victory, declared his next move to the other team: “my next toss wil be to him, so please block it with everything you’ve got”. that was a vow of trust. kageyama doesn’t play around: if he says something like that, it’s because he knows it’ll work. he knows hinata will make it. and for hinata, having a setter who trusts him is so, so important. no one understands what he’s doing. he doesn’t need to explain: they’ll see. he knows that.
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his words aren’t kind. but, honestly, good communication doesn’t mean kindness. it doesn’t always means protecting other’s feelings. and that’s not what hinata needed. hinata has to know that he’s not the ace. and that, at his current state, he can’t do much. we know that, later, kageyama won’t accep easily hinata’s will to improve and to fight on his own. but right now, it’s important for hinata to understand what he can and what he cannot do. and kageyama’s words aren’t just for bringing hinata’s feet back to the ground. he’s being careful not to let hinata’s confidence go down. “you are important to the team. you can fight too, the way you are right now. because i’m here for you. i’ll help you. and we’ll stand on the court together”.
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and so, they do it. they trust each other this much. hinata’s in silence for most of this chapter; this time, his facial expression speaks the most. he’s always so talkative and excited and smiley and on this scene… he looks down. it’s the beggining of a long development that’ll lead him to actually take pride on being the strongest decoy, but right now his acceptance is also a disappointment. he says he doesn’t think his role is lame, but he hasn’t truly accepted it yet. and that’s ok, because that’s hinata’s story. but at this moment, to say it out loud, with that face… it was only because of kageyama. because of kageyama’s words and attitude. thanks to him, hinata’s beginning to actually understand that he already has value as a player.
there’s no way kegeyama would do that if he didn’t know how to communicate. this whole chapter just proves that kageyama can communicate really well. (and we see it before, on the same match, when he encourages suga to toss to asahi). he understands hinata and tells him the exact words he needs to hear. not the easiest, but definitely the right ones. and more than that, he made hinata see on his own what he meant. he proved that his words weren’t empty. he wasn’t being a jerk, saying that hinata couldn’t be the ace. he was showing hinata his true value and trying to boost his confidence in himself.
no, this isn’t something he can do with anyone. and that’s why i said that kageyama’s communication problems are not related to an actual lack of communication skill. because once he understands the person and once he connects to them, he’s able to do something like this. fact is, most people don’t understand kageyama first. most people find him hard to approach, are scared of him, or even hate him. you can’t communicate well if you’re not connected. kageyama’s traumatized for what happened in junior high, for his grandfather’s loss, and he finds it hard to connect to other people. he’s still scared that everyone will turn their back on him again. hinata’s the first one he can actually trust, but it does take longer for the others to reach him, and for him to reach them too. so tell me, how can you properly communicate when you’re constantly scared of pushing people away? when you were called a tyrant king by your own teammates? but he fucks up, he gets carried away by the game and says the wrong words, in the wrong way, because he’s angry and impatient and he’s been holding himself for so long… he’s only 15, afterall. he’s a 15 year old boy dealing with trauma and a lot of pressure. we can’t say he’s very good at being nice and sensitive, but kageyama sure does know how to communicate well when he feels confident enough to.
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sugarandspice-games · 3 years
Text
Okay, so I finally got through Saeran's good ending, I might go back and play the normal and other bad endings later if I feel like it, but as that was an emotional rollercoaster, I need some time to recover. But I'm going to put my full review under the cut.
Will I be releasing my rewrite outline at this point (though not really a rewrite, since I made it before the AE was ever released when I was drunk and salty at the lack of news)? I'm not sure. I wasn't 100% satisfied, but we'll call it a good 65% as I feel like there was more I liked than I hated. I'll leave that decision up to my dear readers, whether or not they want to see it. (Though there are only like... 8 of you here and I know you're probably here for Obey Me content and not MysMess)
I do plan on playing the Jumin Bad End DLC, but I may not liveblog it as I haven't really heard good things. This seems like another ploy for fanservice, but I do want to get more lore about Jumin's backstory, and honestly... I'm gay and want to see those sexy CGs. That being said... this is the last I will discuss the canon material on this blog, and it may be the last time I engage with the canon material (as I believe cheritz has announced that this is the finale anyway, and will no longer update the game). I will most likely continue to create fan content for it, as Sugar and I have our own sort of... fanfic thing going on with the characters and our OCs. But this is a personal and huge special interest of mine, and rather than go through everything and pick it apart for the rest of my days... I want to leave the game and the characters I love so much with only my happiest memories. They'll live on in my heart.
But I digress... here is my semi-condensed review. Sugar may talk about it as well, though I do not speak for them. THIS SHOULDN'T NEED TO BE SAID BUT HERE THERE BE SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU DID NOT COMPLETE THE GOOD END OF RAY'S AE.
The Good:
Saeran. Saeran was the best thing about this route. His character development was beautiful, and every time I saw him, I felt my heart swell with pride and love. His new sprites are so adorable as well as his beautiful CGs, and he looks healthier and happier in a lot of them. He's grown to be such a loving, gorgeous, wonderful man despite everything that happened in his painful life, and his story is nothing short of inspirational. I have a lot of love for Saeran, I have from the moment I saw him but this route really drove it home for me. He will have a special place in my heart among my fictional loves that can never be replaced.
Jumin Jumin Jumin! Jumin was one of the absolute MVPs this route, he was doing the most and boy... I just want to hug him. Even though he was in horrendous pain he was doing the absolute best he could to help everyone. He's been a love of mine for a long time, and that love only grew in this route. I was also glad to meet Driver Kim and see the interaction between him and Daddy Han Sr. (Because obviously Juju is the junior Daddy Han lol)-- even though I have mixed feelings about the Chairman, it makes me happy to see Jumin getting the caring he deserves from his father. And the fact that he even turned his back to let Jumin express his emotions without feeling embarrassed... Fucking killed me.
They did Rika right this go around. Yes, she got off to a really rough start, but she was very human and bearable here... and complete with her realizing her wrongdoings and working to right them in the end. It was a gorgeous arc, I'm so happy for her. I have a love hate relationship with her character, as she used to be a very badly written villain IMO... but one of the good things about Another Story in general is that it gave her depth that she didn't have before. And if they wanted to redeem her, they 100% did it right here, even if she had a rough beginning and had to make mistakes to get to where she was. I thought it was very human. Good on you, cheritz.
Vanderwood got a lot of good interactions here, and I'm really happy they gave us more Van content. Even if we're not getting a route for him, it's enough to me to finally see him expressing the affection we all know that he holds for Saeyoung, and working to help him.
The twins finally get to be happy! Need I say more?
Everyone doing well in their lives made me really happy too... most of the other routes had this problem where if one person got to be happy, someone else would have to suffer in exchange. I'm so glad that everyone got a happy ending.
The new chats made me extra emotional... I'm not sure why, to be honest, I think I'm just happy to see everyone again. It had been such a long time since I played Mystic Messenger, and talking to everyone again just like old times felt like returning to a childhood home (though I was 19 when I discovered this game initially, haha). I cried a lot, which is extra weird for me since I don't tend to cry in general.
Yoosung loves Saeran soooo much... in fact, everyone does. It made me happy, bc I was initially worried that he wouldn't have made friends with the RFA or that it would be awkward, but seeing everyone loving him and him being sweet back to them was adorable. Jumin also loves him and you can't change my mind (though maybe that's my wishful thinking of being in a Jumin & Saeran sandwich talking...)
So many good messages in this AE, and they hit very personally. I came to the same realization last year, that in the end, nothing in life matters except love, since you can't take anything else with you when you die. I shan't elaborate more!
Everyone's voice acting was so good! It was so beautiful and emotional, I could feel it through their voices. I usually skip the voice lines since I read so fast, but I'm happy I didn't.
The Bad:
Oh Jihyun... what have they done to you? I know I said he wasn't OOC and I stand by that, but it really feels like the writers hated him this AE. Even his sprite looked so awful and blurry. And he didn't get any good realization that he deserved better or anything, the literal cult leader and prime fucking minister got to be redeemed when he didn't. What the actual fuck. Sugar will definitely have more to say about it, and probably in a more articulate way, but let it be known that I don't like it either.
Furthermore, even if it's not OOC, it's structurally sloppy for him to come to some realization only to stay the exact same as he's always been. And same with Rika too. As I said in a previous post, having them both go through these realizations only to make them the villains again really felt like beating a dead horse. What can I say except AAAAAAAAA. WHAT THE FUCK?
Again, I must reiterate... why'd they make it so you have to be a bitch to Rika to get the good ending? I get that it's probably wish fulfillment for some people in the fandom, but it isn't for me. I really don't have any desire to berate or insult her bc in the end she needs serious help (even if I wanted to throw hands with her sometimes), and if the point was to call her on her misbehavior... some of it went too far (looking @ the "Don't stab Saeran's eyes out!" choice. I didn't like that at all, especially since it felt like you were making fun of Jihyun's trauma.) It especially made the end of her arc fall flat when she's like "Thank you for being kind and trying to understand me..." like, gurl... the game didn't let me do that without making me bad end! Jeez.
Also, literally why was it necessary to redeem the prime minister? He's a monster who tried to murder his own children. It's okay if they needed that scene where Saeran and you tried to understand him, but having him actually come around made no sense... why would he want to listen to you or Saeran when we've seen time and time again that there isn't really any good in him? He's just not a good person. And no, I'm not saying this because I wanted him to die or anything! ...Okay, maybe I did. Fuck that guy. I hate him. (Also the whole "you're only this way because you're lonely!" was so corny, I didn't choose those options but gjkgkgkfk)
The Ugly:
Have y'all heard about how much I hate the agency Boss? I hate him so much... I want to drown him in the toilet. I want to feed him taco bell laced with laxatives. I want to-- anyway, I digress. Not classifying this under bad because cheritz did their job by making him hateable and oh boy, did I hate him. He made me want to barf. I also commend his voice actor for somehow making me feel greasy through the screen. Seriously, dude, hats off to you. You are a genius.
That's about all I have to say for now... you can peruse my talk tag if you want to see any of my other thoughts on this game, but they don't tie into the good and bad. Despite the flaws, I enjoyed myself this route and I'm happy I played it. Even though there will always be things to improve upon in this game... I'm happy I picked it up, and I'm happy I met everyone. I would write them all letters or something but that'd be kinda corny since they're just game characters and won't see it anyway, and I know I'm not the only nor am I the most attractive MC out there... so this is Spice, signing out! Byebye, Mystic Messenger. You'll always have a special place in my heart.
All of the... weird horniness between Rika and Saeran made me feel grossed out. Her having him in a collar with a leash, and the game options that insinuate she has a thing for him... ew ew ew. Please stop it. That shit is so disgusting and I'm going to puke.
@ Both Saeyoung and Saeran: stop fucking trying to die all the time! Seriously! Let me love you and want to save you, when will you get it through your thick skulls that one gay ass MC who loves you very very dearly would NEVER be happy if you died? AAAAAAAA
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cntrspll · 3 years
Text
this is a love letter to my own fic
hi hello hey, this is an essay about my own fic and the feelings i have about it. fic can be found here.
i am going to try so hard to keep this organized but i don’t know how well that will work soooo let’s go!
on the fic overall:
i just... like magnus. i think he is a fan fave for a reason, but i think there’s a lot of missing discussion of his post-canon situation and the development thereafter. when i finished listening to balance for the first time (in february-ish this year, i think?), i remember being super frustrated with where parts of the fandom had landed their focus. this isn’t an uncommon fandom thing, and i totally get where it comes from. some characters are just super relatable and a lot of fun to write about and have like absolute piles of stuff to unpack, so it’s totally fair that some characters get more focus than others, but where i felt that some of my faves got a lot of fandom focus, others... didn’t.
so this fic was in part an attempt to rectify that, because i wasn’t finding the unpacking of magnus and his emotional / mental state that i wanted. that being said, there are a couple fics that i did draw a little bit of inspiration from, the biggest probably being patterns of migration by goodnicepeople. the depiction of magnus as this big strong dude who also has these quiet vulnerabilities that he doesn’t like admitting to people is like, in part just really accurate to canon, but also something that i really wanted to see explored more, and i didn’t find a whole lot of other fics that fit that, so in part i just wanted to set out to put a little more into that.
also, like, i work in food service, and we are in a pandemic, and i moved in the middle of this year and i started hrt this year and have been dealing with the fallout of coming out and just kind of everything, and this fic was a really good way of just like, distracting myself from everything and sitting down for a little every day and thinking about something else and not so much about everything that was happening around me. so there is a good part of this fic that is just like, me coping with everything and trying to reorient myself a little. and it worked pretty well for that!
on process:
ok first things first, this was never meant to be 133k long. when i first sat down to write this, it was going to be a handful of snapshots set across [undetermined amount of time here] of magnus dealing with isolation and insomnia, and it was only meant to be like, maybe a 20k oneshot? that obviously did not happen. i think my original estimate once i accepted that this was gonna be multichaptered was like 60-70k, but then the chapters started getting longer with each one i finished, and then i wanted to add in an interlude, and then i decided i needed an epilogue, and here we are.
i’ll talk about this in other sections too, but as i wrote, i just kept finding more and more things that i wanted to talk about. i was also in the process of relistening to balance i was writing, and i kept running into little things that happened over the course of the show that i was like... oh shit! and that would inspire another scene or an interaction i wanted to write or something i wanted to focus more on, and the whole thing just kept getting more and more and bigger and bigger.
i’ve said it like 50 thousand times now, but i have never written anything this long before. i tried really hard to be regimented about the way i did it, because from the beginning i knew this was going to be an emotional journey for me to write, but i knew that if i let it slide for a week or so then i would never finish it. so to get through it, i wrote almost every day for a minimum of an hour. the process that i’ve found works best for me when i’m writing is using word sprints, putting on some music, and then forcing myself to tune out of social media and everything else for 25 minutes. i try to do between 750-1k words in that time period, then the site gives you a five minute break, during which i usually check twitter or fact check if i need to, and then i go back in and do another sprint. this works really well for me because i wasn’t trying to hit a specific word goal in any given day, just like... trying to sit down and write. i also tried not to guilt myself too much if i missed a day, or if i only did one sprint instead of two, or anything like that, and that’s kind of what helped me get through the whole monster without instantly dropping it as soon as i had another idea.
on mental health and recovery:
so one of my big personal pet peeves in fiction is the idea that trauma recovery is like, a one time single event deal. like, someone has this big horrible thing happen to them or they have some pressing mental health issue and then someone else walks in and they have one conversation and bam, everything is fine. i was exposed to a lot of [fan]fiction when i was younger that kind of supported this kind of narrative, and i get that there is a certain sort of wish fulfillment thing to that, but it also sucks, being an adult and having Problems(TM) and knowing that it absolutely does not work like that.
so when i set out to write a fic about trauma and mental illness and recovery, i felt kind of a responsibility to not fall into that trap and write it like, okay and then magnus and taako talk about it and taako’s like hey dude you’re depressed but it’s okay and then magnus doesn’t have nightmares anymore. also, because this is taz and the canon of like, historical accuracy is complete bullshit, i can put therapists and psychiatry and psychiatric medications in my fic and no one can tell me i’m wrong and it doesn’t exist. elevators exist, so i can make ssris and anti anxiety pills exist.
but also, magnus as a character is not going to jump into that right away. it is canon fact that he doesn’t like accepting or asking for help with stuff like this, and yes there are a couple big moments where he does, but like i bring up a couple times in the fic, mental health struggles are a big jump from like, a physical fight using swords and axes and shit. and this i think is really accurate to a lot of people’s struggles with mental illness, just taking that first step and admitting that you don’t feel okay, and that you need someone’s help to deal with it. that’s super super scary even to admit to like, your closest friends.
so that’s why magnus kind of shies away a number of times from some of the conversations that people try to start with him about mental health. taako and carey and lucretia and pretty much everyone else approach him at some point about opening up about this stuff, but he pulls away because admitting that kind of vulnerability to someone else is super scary, even if you’ve maybe admitted it to yourself already.
i also wanted to make sure that at the end of the fic, he wasn’t magically better. this is something else that i think people kind of forget, like... trauma and the problems that it causes don’t go away just because of therapy and medication. those things help, they help you reform the ways you think about yourself and about the world, but they don’t change the struggles you’ve been through or the sometimes biological problems that are causing whatever issue you’re having. and i remember reading a lot of fic when i was a kid where someone would be depressed, and then they’d fall in love and get magic dick or something and then they’d never be sad again, which... isn’t great.
but at the same time, i didn’t want it to end on this note like, oh everything is still bad even though he worked so hard to open up and get help, because that sucks, too. so it was really important to me that the fic end on a hopeful note, like, magnus isn’t cured. he still has bad days and bad weeks and sometimes he is just as low as he was before, but he also has like, normal days, which is something that i think you kind of forget can even exist when you’re depressed, or when you’re dealing with any mental illness. but like, i really wanted it to be obvious that things did get better and even if he’s still coping with it and it’s not going away, he’s okay. he’s gonna be all right.
on an unreliable narrator:
this kind of plays into some of the mental health stuff, but one thing that i love about taz that i really wanted to play into with this fic is the idea of limited perspective. griffin does some really cool fucking things with this, specifically in relation to the ipre and the big reveal in the last lunar interlude, with the idea of like... a character can only know the things that they know. like, magnus knows that there is a picture of him depicted as a red robe, and barry knows that they’re all red robes, and taako knows that they found the umbra staff next to a red robed skeleton and that the umbrella spelled out lup at one point, but none of them necessarily know all the things that the other person knew, and none of them know all the things that lucretia knows or that fisher knows or junior knows, etc etc.
unfortunately, just because the pace of the story picks up so much in that last lunar interlude, there isn’t a whole lot of space to explore that like, disconnect between all these facts that they each have as individuals. and given the perspective of mental health and the way that plays into your perceptions of yourself and your perceptions of other people’s perceptions, i really wanted to delve into like… magnus’s misunderstandings.
this is not a strictly straightforward unreliable narrator situation, but i did bring in some elements of that. i really wanted to explore the disconnect between how magnus sees and how everyone else sees him and his issues. there are also a couple moments where he flat out completely misinterprets their intentions, which unfortunately i didn’t delve into as much as i wanted to so they ended up mostly being fun easter eggs for, uh… me? i guess?
one of those moments is the scene in ch 4 where barry and magnus are sitting in the kitchen and barry starts to ask magnus something. magnus assumes it’s going to be about his mental health, and that this is barry stepping up as representative for everyone else to talk to him about it, but it’s really meant to be a precursor to their conversation in ch 6 where they talk about barry and lup and marriage and proposals.
magnus gets a little perspective on this later, i think in ch 7(?) where he’s thinking about how maybe their lives don’t completely revolve around him and he’s missing some of their perspective. but like, they all have their own shit going on, and they all love him and they’re worried about him, but also, barry is thinking about lup. lup is thinking about taako. taako is thinking about lucretia. lucretia is thinking about davenport, and davenport is thinking about his own issues, and so on and so on and they’re not all just like… waiting to pounce on magnus the second he shows weakness.
a lot of that plays into the hypervigilance of ptsd, too. magnus is very aware of any perceived threat, and he sometimes treats the people around him as threats, when all they’re doing in reality is thinking like, man i wish he didn’t live out here by himself all the time.
on a more meta note, i also have a tendency to make every character i write just like, a super good judge of character. i don’t think magnus is that, and i really wanted to lean into that. magnus does not read intention super well, even when that intention is genuinely good.
on the ipre and their relationships:
so i… really don’t write gen fic a lot. even when i do, it is almost always tinged with a little bit of background shipping, and there is some of that in this, but whereas in most fandoms i end up being a multishipper, for some reason with taz i’ve ended up pretty much only caring about the canon ships (sorry…). that being said, the platonic relationships in taz (and especially in balance) are some of the most compelling and important fictional relationships that i’ve ever encountered. like, they are just really well fucking done.
this being the magnus love letter that it is, i really wanted to focus on magnus’s distinct relationships with every member of the ipre crew. i don’t know how obvious this is in the actual narrative, but with the exception of the interlude and the epilogue, the story is broken down into one chapter for each member of the starblaster crew (in order, magnus, taako, merle, davenport, barry, lucretia, lup). i did this specifically because it was really important to me that i dive into all of them and their particular issues. i didn’t quite get the deep dive with merle or davenport that i would’ve liked to, but hopefully in the future i’ll get more time to explore that.
anyway, in case it isn’t obvious, lup is probably my favorite fictional character literally ever in any media created by anyone in the history of time. i say this only because a lot of this fic was set up to build to the conversation between her and magnus in ch 8 out on the mountain where he finally opens up for the first time. there are some really incredible unexplored parallels and relationships in taz (unexplored mainly because like, where would it even fit in canon), and while some of them are super self indulgent (ie, lup and mags, barry and mags), i really really really wanted to dig into those a little more. things like the conversation where taako is talking about everyone brushing over his trauma to rush to forgive lucretia, or lucretia talking about trying to learn to love writing again and recognize happy moments, davenport almost admitting that he’s not completely sure about stepping back into the family in his former role… i could write an entire fic on any of these, really.
but ultimately, this being a magnus fic, i tried to filter those conversations through a perspective of two things: first, how does this affect magnus and his mental health journey, and second, what can magnus do to help this. those scenes where magnus is trying to help someone with something and they’re like, backhandedly helping him are some of my favorite interactions in the fic.
the other thing i really really really wanted to explore that i never see enough of in fic is magnus and carey’s relationship. carey is canonically magnus’s best friend, and yet in fic i feel like she gets pushed to the side a little in favor of the starblaster crew. which i get, they’ve got a hundred and ten years of shared trauma, but also, travis flat out states that carey is magnus’s best friend, so… i mean, there is also a little bit of self indulgence here, because i am also a man who is exclusively best friends with lesbians, but you know.
that being said, i really wanted to emphasize that relationship in particular, which is why carey doesn’t have her own dedicated chapter and instead kind of slides in and out of each one and slowly helps magnus along the way. her personality i also feel is like, the exact kind of thing that magnus needs to push him into accepting / asking for help and moving towards recovery.
on real life parallels:
ok, i swear to god i did not intend to make this a holiday fic posted during the holidays. i started writing this in june, and again, it was only meant to be like 20k and not necessarily entirely set during candlenights. that kind of happened, anyway? candlenights just seemed like the best vessel to get all these characters whose post-canon situations i wanted to explore into the same room, and i finished the first draft around mid october and i wanted to give myself plenty of time for editing, so it honestly just ended up coincidentally aligning with the holidays. go figure.
that being said, isolation ended up featuring pretty heavily in this fic. that i think is to be expected to a certain degree given the nature of mental health and recovery and blah blah blah, but i probably unintentionally ended up leaning into it a little more because like… this year. and the holidays tend to be a time that a lot of us feel really isolated, and this year especially, but one of the big things for me this year is that like, all of my friends live out of state. the closest one to me is still a good 2-3 hour plane ride, which i am absolutely not risking. i had like a hundred plans to go see people and do things this year, and those obviously got cancelled.
probably the biggest one of those things was seeing a friend who i have kind of started a new years tradition of seeing, but we ended up calling that off out of safety considerations, of course. and it sucks! it’s not fun! i also moved out this year and i have my own place and in june i was really hoping that things would be okay by now and i could have all my friends come in from out of town for new years and that didn’t happen. and i wasn’t intending for this fic to be a kind of wish fulfillment of like, here’s my new place post-[saving the universe / coming out and becoming a real person], let me show my found family around my hometown and let’s make new holiday traditions together now that we’re no longer [fighting the apocalypse / literal children] and everything will be fun and happy and good, but that is kind of what happened anyway. [insert joke here that goes like “do you project your real world problems and mental health issues onto fictional characters or are you normal?”]
but yeah, magnus’s mental health struggles did kind of accidentally become a little bit of a pandemic / quarantine life parallel. i did not mean for that to happen, but it did help me tease out a little bit of what it is that i feel like i’m missing and what i want in the future when things are better, and i hope it helped some other people figure that stuff out too, maybe?
and in conclusion:
i said this a little bit in the final notes in the fic, but i am so so so grateful and emotional over the comments i’ve gotten from some of you. i’ve said it already, but this was such an emotional rollercoaster for me to write. i put a decent amount of my own mental health issues into the stuff i wrote into magnus, and it was genuinely therapeutic and like… super helpful and important. it was also a big struggle, and there were some scenes i came out of feeling incredibly drained and like i needed to not write for a week.
so that being said, those of you who have commented things about how this fic helped you deal with your own emotional turmoil or helped put something in perspective for you, i am genuinely so happy to hear that i’ve impacted you in that way like, at all. that is so incredible to me, and not necessarily what i set out to do, but it means so much to hear someone say that and also to know that someone felt comfortable sharing that with a stranger on the internet. thank you so so so much.
again, this fic means so much to me. the fact that it’s impacted even a handful of people in that way is absolutely amazing. some of the things you guys have said have had me seriously choked up. i am so glad that anyone even took the time to read all 133k of this, let alone that it affected people like that.
i don’t know if i’ll be writing more about magnus in this universe. i would love to! but i’m also super happy with where i’ve left his story. i have plans to explore the calen thing in the future, but only kind of tangentially in a side mention and not fully, so who knows? there is more though, a lot with taako and kravitz and lup and barry and hopefully one day i will find the motivation somewhere in me to flesh out everyone else’s situations a little more, too. who knows!
anyway, i just want to say thanks again to everyone for reading, and even more so if you are reading this dumb essay. you’re super cool.
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your--isgayrights · 3 years
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Okay i actually have no clue on how tumblr works (hope I'm doing this right lmao) but I'm writing my first fic (I still can't really move on from orv so I decided to make my own content lol.), I really love your writing style, do you have any tips??
Hmmmm tips tips tips tips.... First of all I’m really flattered that you like my writing enough to ask me about it! I’ll try to give my best answer... I think that I used to read a lot of people’s “writing tips” but ultimately I ended up not really understanding them until I started writing a lot? Either way it’s fun to read how other authors think... It’s really cool that you’re writing your first fic and you thought to come to me... did I already say that? Okay long post under the cut.
I don’t think this will be all that helpful, but this is just things that I think about if that’s interesting!
For me a lot of writing is like struggling with motivation (I have ADHD so that’s probs why), I really have to pace myself while writing because I can’t just force myself to do it. If I go in every day and think “I have to write today I’m not doing anything so I should be writing” I can get burnt out really easily, even if I really like the thing I’m writing and know how it’s supposed to go. So one of my big things is that when I’m not thinking about writing I’m not thinking about writing. that gives my brain a break and refreshes me when I get back to my google document.
Something I’ve also struggled with having to remember is that there’s like. Never a perfect way to write. What I end up doing is thinking up ideas and fragments and sentences in my head and the very moment I think of something I like I have to write it down in my notes app. Most of my writing process ends up being like. Filling in the blanks and connecting the dots between scene fragments. 
For fics in particular I’d also just recommend rereading your favorite parts of the og work! I’m the kind of person who has a pretty good reading memory, so people may have noticed that I include a lot of little details referencing the text in my fic. Just reading the work kind of helps you remember the voices of the character and the style of the narration, and if you just like. internalize it. you can probably replicate it pretty well if you wanted to.
OKAY I say that but don’t worry too much about replicating things in the og work perfectly. I find that a lot of times when I’m writing I’m inserting a lot of personal touches and putting things that are a part of me in the work. Writing is always going to be like. an extension of your voice, no matter what you’re writing. I think that when I heard about stuff like that from authors in the past I was always like. What? I’m not writing about things that happened to me. I’m writing about grown adult men having emotional issues, silly. But there’s like a lot more nuance to writing about yourself, I guess. Like you don’t have to have like a self insert or be projecting onto a character to have yourself reflected in something you’ve written.
I’d say that like, whatever you write as your first fic is going to be lovely, but when you grow up as a writer and look back on it, you’re not going to remember who you were when you wrote it. I think that’s why a lot of people look back on their first works and are like “I can’t believe I wrote that, what was I thinking, cringe cringe cringe ugh.” Like I definitely do that sometimes, but I’ve found that the old work I’m happiest with nowadays is the stuff where I can recognize myself in it, even if I’m not in that fandom anymore or if there’s old jokes or typos I don’t remember making. 
With that being said, I’m the kind of person who always gives myself a mission statement when I’m writing. I sort of mentally go, okay, I’m writing this kind of thing, and this is why I’m writing it. It can be something like oh I’m writing this fluff piece because I love this character and wish they had a happier ending, or  oh I want to write this multi chapter fic exploring an issue touched on in the original work but I feel like with my own experiences I could expand on it more than the author did. Just something that tells me why it is important to me to write this thing when I’m writing it.
AAAH I feel like I made that sound more dramatic than it really is, that’s just how I think I guess. I’m the kind of guy where its like things need to have like MEANING to me when I do them. I’m dramatic and gay and that’s my personality I guess 😔.
Hmmm maybe it’s also my BIGGEST writing tip tho. Like kind of just thinking things through when you’re writing is pretty important. When I was first learning to write at all (talking about baby baby me here this is like sort of a side tangent sorry) I think that a lot of times I would copy phrases and developments that I had liked in things that I had read without really fully considering why I would include those things other than the fact that that was just what I thought writing was. It’s important to consider what importance every scene and sentence has to do with the flow of the story. Are they just things that are happening, or is there a reason that the audience needs to know these things? The weight of your words should have some sort of consequence as a result of you writing them. Are you telling the audience information they need to know? Is it about how the character feels? What does this say about the character? Etc.
I suppose that’s sort of my own writing style. You’ll probably notice that I don’t write a lot of descriptive prose if you read my fic. The thing about me is that I never want to write something that makes my audience question why they’re reading it, I guess. I’m sort of self conscious and think about the reading experience a lot. All of the things I choose to describe are usually so that the reader can understand where people are in the scene and what emotions they are having. There’s a lot of emphasis that I put in like. A reader’s ability to read into things, which works against me sometimes because I’m not always certain if people picked up on different things that I put a lot of thought into (the curse of being seen... sob).
ALSO use paragraph breaks. In my first fic (that I’m not going to tell anyone what is even though its on ao3 because im shy) the thing I always regret the MOST is that there are big chunky paragraphs that are hard to read through at the start. Like my eyes get lost. I mentioned I have ADHD before but even though I like. physically can’t read a big chunky paragraph I will always write them that way if left to my own devices. Paragraph breaks don’t have to just be broken up by dialogue they can be wherever you feel like doing them. You need a lot of them. This post should probably have more of them... oh my god it’s so long...
OKAY FOR REAL THOUGH IF YOU COULDN”T SLOG THROUGHT THE REST OF THAT THE MOST IMPORTANT TIP IS RIGHT HERE: 
JUST LET YOURSELF WRITE
I have a lot of like. academic trauma, so maybe this is just me, but the reason I didn’t write fic until I was like 16 was because I was always really scared that whatever I wrote wouldn’t be good enough for some impossible standard I was setting for myself. I was always telling myself that I had certain bad writing habits or that I was terrible for never being able to focus on things for very long and all of my projects were doomed to failure before I even started. But then I wrote my first like 8 chapter fic in the summer of my junior year and I was like... oh. that wasn’t so bad. Like. It’s okay to know your limits, but you don’t really know them until you start writing. Like I wrote an 8 chapter fic, and then a few one shots, and then I tried to take on a very complicated project that ended up being over 40 chapters and I had to put it down because I just wasn’t really at the writing level to finish it. I would advise against writing fics that take so long to write that you start hating the way you wrote the first chapter, basically lol. Know how whatever you’re writing is supposed to begin and end before you start writing it.
Nowadays I always have like. plot outlines in my head when I start a fic. Like okay this needs to happen here this needs to happen here etc. I like making lists if it seems to overwhelming when I’m writing something long, just to organize my thoughts. 
OKAY I JUST TALKED A LOT. SORRY IF YOU DIDN’T WANT TO READ ALL OF THIS BUT I’M A LITTLE CHATTY IF YOU DIDN’T NOTICE.
Defo feel free to dm me if you have like questions or just want to chat about orv or whatever. I’m a lonely little man out here floating on my pile of words, and I’d love to hear what your fic is about!! 
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kookieskiwi · 4 years
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hi idk if you're still accepting drabbles 🥺🥺 can i ask for a medical au with the quote " i knew it was a mistake falling in love with my best friends" 🥺🥺 and btw i really love your works 🥺🥺🥺 they're so cute and i just love them and you so much 🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰
(I am! And thank you 🥺 I’m new to writing here on tumblr and well...support makes me feel like I’m doing this right so thank you ❤️ I love you too)
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As the main emergency and trauma surgeon at one of the busiest hospitals in Korea you were no stranger to stress. So when you had to preform multiple surgeries in a 48 hour time period with no rest you wanted nothing more than to go home to the apartment you shared with your best friends to sleep.
You hadn’t been home in two days because of the crazy hours that had kept you busy. Patient after patient you were either performing a life or death surgery or you were checking up on those who needed immediate, but not life threatening, assistance. When you finally clocked out for the weekend your feet couldn’t carry you quicker to your vehicle which hadn’t moved. The drive home seemed longer than usual as you managed to catch every red light possible which put you in an even worse mood than before.
Finally when you pulled into the driveway of the condo you let out a sigh of relief knowing that you were just miniutes away from the haven of your bed. One thing that excited you even more than your bed was the seven men that currently inhabited the house with you. Yes, you all had been friends since junior high and it had seemed platonic until you all made the decision to move in together. This was when you realized you had real feelings other than friendship towards the guys, the close proximity, cuddles and time shared with them had made your heart swell with love.
It was hard hiding your feelings but the crazy job helped keep them at bay, you were gone from the house more than you had expected which provided something to get your mind off them. When you all moved in you had noticed the lingering gazes from one man to another, the touches which seemed way to intimate to be nothing and you also noticed the affection they shared amongst each other. They were extremely touchy towards you as well but that was out of habit and meaningless whereas towards each other it was full of meaning.
With another long drawn out sigh you exited your vehicle and entered the house with tiredness visible all over your features. You expected to be greeted by the ones you loved so dearly and to be surrounded by their warmth but instead you were met with the same men but covered in hickeys. Shocked was an understatement at that point and time for all of you. They hadn’t expected you to be home given that you usually messaged them prior and you definitely weren’t prepared for what littered their skin.
“You’re home!” Jin said once he felt the awkward tension in the air. You smiled holding your arms out to hug him gently before waving at the others, “it’s been a long day, I’m heading to bed.” You explained to tired to even hide the sadness in your voice. Without another glance you began tredding to your bedroom with trillions of thoughts swirling around your mind. Did they have girlfriends? Were they together? Did this always happen when you were gone?
When you had almost made it to the safety of your room where you could collapse a hand grabbed yours to halt you in your tracks. “Y/n, please let us explain.” It was Jungkook pleading to you as if he was scared, you turned around slowly to gaze at all of the men who had stood up and seemed a little to close. You took your other hand to place it atop Jungkooks and gently take it off of your own. “It’s okay, it really is.” You said fighting the tears that welled up in your waterline, “I knew it was a mistake falling in love with my best friends.” You whispered solemnly as you gave a weak and heartbroken smile through the tears that fell.
You were about to walk away but a pair of lips were pressed on yours stopping you instantly. As a first instinct you widened your eyes but once you saw it was Taehyung you relaxed into the kiss allowing your eyes to flutter closed as you were being walked backwards until your back met your closed bedroom door.
Maybe time stopped when his lips met yours, but the flutter only intensified. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees got weaker. You could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all your senses. It still wasn’t clear if you were dreaming or imagining this moment to life but there was raw emotion in the way his fingers curled around your waist. Taehyung kept his eyes half open, sneaking a guilty peek at you every time he came back for air, just to make sure he wasn’t denying you of air when you needed it.
He wasn’t sure what came over him to make him take this huge step maybe it was the fear of them loosing you for good but surely the others were feeling jealousy as they saw you kissing him. He couldn’t think about that for long as every breath he took smelled like caramel and every taste at your lips tasted like vanilla. If anything, the warm feeling of your breath, although destabilizing, was inviting. This time around he draped both arms around your small frame and met your lips again halfway.
Heat rose from your stomach to chest. Taehyung’s lips were getting closer and your heart decided to skip a beat, the smell of him hypnotic beyond reason. You parted your lips and felt him washing over like a wave of warmth, curling your toes, unfurling all your senses as the taste of him nearly silenced all thoughts.
Your whole body tingled, the feel of his frame leaning on yours as his arms wrapped around you felt nearly forbidden. He pulled you in, claiming your mouth again, hungry and intense, until your knees gave in. By the time You became aware of your fingers, they had already slipped under his shirt, his skin smooth and radiating heat.
As if time had paused right there, as you both stood there glued to one another. As if no one else existed and there weren’t six others watching from the side you both pulled away from each other’s embrace you licked your lips out of habit unaware of the gazes watching that movement that was completely innocent but so erotic after watching that scene.
“We fell in love with you too.”
(Part two is possible if requested)
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ceruleangold · 3 years
Text
So on Thursday when the big money grant came through, my boss goes:
“We want to change your title to Director of Housing.”
So I was like (*head tilt*): “Is that actually different?”
(Right now my title is akin to ‘junior director of adult services,’ but there’s no senior director or anything because my boss is a VP so there’s nothing that distinguishes junior director and just… director lol)
And she’s like “Uh, yeah!”
We used to have 24-hour security. Three years ago they let them go as cost-saving measure.
I was notorious for being real fucking mouthy with them. The shit they’d say was completely unacceptable — calling the kids thugs, implying the parents were on drugs, treating the clients and their guests like they were in a penal institution. It had a real undercurrent of racism and all the other -isms, because they always hired failed law enforcement wannabees.
We had a security guard who looked like that singer Sia. She was really something. One time a couple of nine-year-old girls left campus on their bikes by tailgating a car out the vehicle gate and when they came to be let inside campus, she starts screaming at them. I pulled her to the side and was like “Can you not do that? They’re gonna tell their parents who are just gonna get upset with us [Case Managers] and there’s probably a better way for us to have this conversation.”
So, next day I’m in my bosses’ boss office and I’m being told in no specific terms that I cannot talk to people like that because I’m not their supervisor (I wasn’t anyone’s supervisor at the time) and so I explain my dilemma about their language and my bosses’ boss goes and I quote: “Roxanne, that’s just how people from the East Coast are.”
Bitch, what. This is a fucking job. Well, I’m a Virgo, then, and being a condescending bitch that tells people how to do their jobs is just how Virgos are.
So… they want to bring back 24-hour Security. But not actually as Security. They want to bring them back as Resident Assistants to help mitigate crisis situations.
…And they want me to be their supervisor.
Let it not go unsaid my mouthiness has put me in many, many ironic positions before lmao. But I am going to be so so so fucking picky about who I hire for these positions. The level of trauma-informed instinct that will be wired into these people.
There’s this sentiment I’ve carried for years, and it’s something to the effect of:
If the first person you reach out to for help does a bad job — makes you feel unsafe, doesn’t listen, whatever it may be — you’re way less likely to reach out for help again. And maybe the consequence of that is fatal. So, patience and compassion are vital. Listening can be life-saving.
lmao anyways there are other changes that come with this title change, too, but this is the one that made me laugh most. I was telling my best friend last night that I wasn’t really into the title Director of Housing and she looks at me and goes “What? That’s a good fucking title! You just explained something about housing to me three minutes ago.”
And that is true… I think what really helps me in my work is how interested I am in it on an intellectual and emotional level. I love talking about poverty and homelessness (as many unfortunately have been witness to lol), because it’s a passion project that I get paid for. That doesn’t mean it isn’t work. It is work. It just means it’s work that I’m like super super into.
The next few months will be a whole lot of work, too lol. That is for certain. But if there were a role I was ever truly meant to have… being the director of an emergency shelter is it. Roots, baby. Roots.
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butterflyinthewell · 4 years
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I’m gonna lose followers. Oh well... a rant by me.
People who harass others about SHIPPING FICTIONAL CHARACTERS are irksome.
Preface: if you say you don’t want someone role playing a NOTP with you or sending asks about it, or you don’t want secret Santa stuff containing it, if you ask people not to suggest fics with that pairing for your fic collections, if you stay out of your NOTP’s pairing tags, if you choose not to interact with material related to your NOTP, if you blacklist the pairing tag and ask people not to tag your fanwork with your NOTP, if you heed warnings and don’t click something with material you don’t like, I do not have a problem with you.
But if you write novel long posts about why a ship is gross to you and tag the pairing so shippers see it, send people hate over their ships, reblog fanworks of your NOTP with nasty messages to the op of the post, if you make a blog all about hating that ship and anyone who ships it, claim it must be grooming, or if you call people pedophiles or abuse apologists because they wrote something morally heinous in fiction that they will most likely never do irl, I’m not gonna have much respect for you beyond you being a fellow person.
Guess what? Shit you hate is going to exist on the internet. If someone tags their work appropriately or tags with appropriate warnings, you should not be clicking on it and harassing them! They have done what is necessary to protect those pearls you want to clutch.
Banning all questionable material is not going to save people who are targeted by predators and criminals.
Calling people pedophiles because they ship a fictional minor with a fictional adult gives actual pedophiles who go after actual minors a hiding place. These days you can’t tell if someone is an actual pedo or got called one over a ship they ship. Pedos are totally banking on that.
Fiction is supposed to break rules and let people explore dark subjects that are morally messed up because you can close a book or close a website if it gets too weird for you. A child with a predator’s hands on them right this moment can’t click an x or close a book to stop it.
Think about that.
No one is forcing you to go read morally messed up stuff. Not clicking on someone’s creepy fic with your NOTP is nowhere in the same realm as turning a blind eye to actual predators predating on someone.
Running someone off a website because your ass is on fire about them writing a pairing you hate or whatever is not going to stop the bad shit happening in the real world.
Predators and criminals will use anything, so someone’s freaky babyfur smutfic that they wrote to troll a fan website in 1999 is hardly going to normalize bad behavior.
I swear some of you insult the intelligence of people with your moral abuse garbage.
Teaching people to recognize predatory behavior and what to do about it will actually help. Teaching people what is and isn’t a healthy relationship will help.
Remember how people called out Twilight for how unhealthy Edward’s behavior towards Bella was? I’m sure a lot of preteen and teen girls learned to open their eyes a bit more. And I’m sure others still enjoyed the books and movies anyway because it’s fiction. It is the job of parents and guardians to teach their children what is and isn’t healthy in a relationship, but the unfortunate problem there is that can fail if the parents aren’t in a healthy relationship.
That’s why there needs to be more discussions about “this is healthy, that might be fun in a story, but that is not healthy in the real world and anybody who treats you like that is waving abuse red flags” rather than attacking somebody by saying “you’re a monster for shipping that”.
The whole point of art in any form is to create an emotional reaction in the audience.
Fucked up fictional shit exists on the internet. Get over it. I think the fact that people get freaked out by weird stuff in fiction is a clear indicator that it’s not being normalized by that piece of fiction. Flailing about it is not helping anything except your ego. It’s not gonna help survivors who write messed up stuff to cope, it’s going to make them go more silent.
Imagine being someone with an abusive pedo parent who takes comfort in the SessRin ship and being called a pedophile for it, or seeing people in the tag call Sesshoumaru a pedophile. That’s triggering as fuck for somebody.
Imagine being a Starkster going through sexual abuse who takes comfort in the ship, and being called a pedophile for it. Imagine seeing people in the tag call Tony a pedophile. That’s triggering as fuck for somebody.
Imagine having the heinous thing that happened to you being turned onto you as an accusation by people on a moral high horse who forget what pedophile means. That is triggering as fuck for somebody.
Nobody owes you a trauma history in order to be ‘allowed’ to create and post morally messed up fanworks. It’s on YOU to check for warnings and keep scrolling if it’s so offensive to your sensibilities.
What’s better? Discussion of tropes that are harmful if done badly. That’s a place to start. Save the accusations for people who are knowingly doing harm to people and not caring that they’re doing harm.
Go after shit that is actually exploiting actual people right now instead of harassing creators whose trauma you don’t know. Tell pedos their attraction to kids is not a sexuality and they have no place in the LGBTQIA+ community. Warn minors away from MAPs/NOMAPs. Expose predators who have exploitative materials of actual real children. Teach people to recognize predatory behavior like grooming. Find ways to get people out of human trafficking. Question adults if you see them touching or treating a child in a way that doesn’t look right. If you’re a minor and somebody keeps sending you porn material or pictures of their genitalia after you said stop, remind them that you’re a minor and expose the shit out of them. If you’re an adult and know somebody is doing that to a minor you talk to online, help them expose that person. That’s not all you can do, but I can’t think of everything. There’s a lot you can do that will actually help people!
But telling someone not to create something questionable because a predator might misuse it is utter horseshit.
I can bet you anything that every single person who hounds others about their ships has a whole bunch of fucked up stuff they read and never talk about because they know it will get them run off by the same people they use as shields against scrutiny.
I’ve read fucked up shit that I enjoyed because it was done well, but I can grasp that it is not okay to do the same thing in the real world and I would be horrified if I saw somebody doing the same thing in the real world. I am able to experience that moment of being horrified, sit with it and see where the fanwork takes me with that feeling.
I say this after I have just read an awesome morally gray Inuyasha fanfic called “Devour Prometheus” by ladybattousai on AO3. It’s gorey, there is murder, there is abuse, there is exploitation, there are allusions to animal trade and it’s the darkest thing I ever laid eyes on. My stomach twisted several times. It’s a fantastic lens on society right now. (Sesshoumaru’s speech about “don’t hold me to your hypocritical human morality” was epic af.)
And some of you are going to think the author is some kind of violence glorifying freak based only on that.
I feel like a lot of anti shippers and antis in general can’t get past that horrified feeling. They yell that they can’t enjoy the fandom if the material makes a hated pairing canon, so it’s like they don’t want anyone else to enjoy the fandom or the pairing. It’s very immature and scorched earth, and it hurts everyone.
Hey, guess what? I have written pairings with hella huge age gaps. Oh, the horror!
OptimusxMikaela? I headcanon Optimus as being 10 billion + years old, and Mikaela was 18 when they hooked up. Mikaela ages as the stories carry on through the years as my Danceverse series, so she’s in her 30s currently. They fucked and still fuck explicitly.
UnicronxStarscream? Unicron is as old as the universe, so 13 billion + (headcanon), and Starscream is probably 11 million or so (headcanon). They fuck explicitly.
Whouffaldi? The 12th Doctor is 2000+ and Clara is in her 20s. They fuck explicitly.
BeastGojixMiki? Godzilla has been alive for probably close to 65 years in the story, but he acts more like he’s in his 20s and he looks to be in his 20s when he turns back into a human. Miki is 18. They fuck in the story, but it’s written non explicitly.
Bowser JrxOC? Cherry is an oc who is 19. I aged Junior up in that story to be about 20. Their ages aren’t specified, but they’re mentioned to be adults. They fuck in the story, but it’s written non explicitly.
I have written fanfics with rape, abuse, murder, manslaughter, bdsm, stuff that’s morally messed up, etc, and I’m not a murdering rapist who eats children now, am I?
No, because I have no desire to do those things in the real world (because some are not possible...cuz I would date Optimus 😛) and I can distinguish fiction from reality. I can grasp the concept that fiction / art is not always endorsement.
Now get a grip on yourselves, put the pitchforks down and stop policing people’s imaginations.
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agrinsosardonic · 3 years
Text
Unused CSB Chapter
Our third year attending Camp White Wolf in the Catskills. I was a shrimp approaching thirteen and my bones always hurt from growing. Sephiroth hit his first growth spurt and towered over me like one of the mountains that surround that camp. And no sooner did my parents pull away from us- not to be seen for six weeks- Sephiroth abandoned me for the older boys he made friends with last year. Leaving me alone. I expected it. I knew he would do this. A common thread, but it didn’t change the crushing rejection that I felt. That I carried on my shoulders as I grabbed my bag and found my cabin. 
My time there remains a blur. I remember the smell of the still lake later and wood wet with Summer. Bugs sang songs in whispering trees in between attacking my skin. The hot sun, humidity, that muffles the sounds of camp. The disturbed water from rowing. The shouts of competition. The mess hall and the static of conversations I could never find myself to become a part of. I sat alone. Strangled by my thoughts. My lack of self-esteem even though my braces had just come off. 
Your teeth look big now. 
Sephiroth had said. I ran my tongue over them instinctively every-time I remembered that comment. 
I never attempted to make friends in that place. All the boys just seemed so much more put together. And handsome. And I cringed every time that thought floated into my head. I wasn’t supposed to think that like; pinched my eyes shut and tried to think about anything else. Video games, or comic books. Horror movies were a great relief, because it’s fucking real hard to get a boner thinking about a girl getting sawed in half. Everything is ten times more difficult at thirteen. Body always tense with pain. My dick constantly tried to give me away. My brain just then started hearing that voice that whispers in the shadows- all the solutions to my problems. 
By the third day, I wanted to call my mom and beg her to pick me up. The boys in my cabin, often secretly led by Seph, decided I was an easy target and tortured me every morning. Traps I would step into like a fly to a web. And my best friend, the one my parents asked to watch me, nowhere to be found. Alone. The kind of alone that I can actually feel. Like I’m being crushed between two walls closing in- suffocating. No way out. 
Sat by the lake and thought about hurting myself for the first time. At the time, the thought seemed logical. Injure myself in a way that would get me sent home. Burn myself on a fire, or cut myself with a blade. In reflection, this was the first time I considered self-harm as an outlet. One I would end up returning to time and time again. But, then, twelve years and eleven months, pissed look etched upon my face while I thought about all the ways I could destroy myself, someone sat next to me with a loud hmph announcing his presence. 
Did the lake do something to piss you off?
I no longer can remember the sound of his voice.
But I had turned my head and saw him sitting next to me, knees up to his chest and arms listlessly draped over them. I recognized him from the previous years. His deep black hair wild like the forest at midnight. Blue eyes that glimmered like the moon. He wore the white camp shirt they gave us and black swim trunks. I knew his name. Zack Fair. But I had no idea why he decided to sit next to me.
Well?
I stuttered through my words, still not used to the absence of metal in my mouth. Uh, w-what?
You look like you’re about to fight the lake.
I brought my eyes back to the green and blue rocky body of water. Zack was two years older, just shy of his fifteenth birthday which would have him working at the camp as a Junior counselor, instead of a participant. We didn’t hang with the same group- well. I didn’t have a group. He did. And all I could think about was those friends lurking in the shadows waiting for my guard to drop so they could play a cruel prank on me.
You know, this lake sucks. He continued, it attacked me my first year here and I’m not over it!
He showed me his foot, by practically shoving it in my face so I could see the faded pink scar on the sole. Attacked by a rock! First week too. Never forgave it. So, if you’re trying to fight the lake, I got your back.
I cracked a smile. A small one but showed my teeth. And I remember the way he tilted his head. Like a puppy. You’re kinda cute when you smile. You should more often. You’ll have all the ladies chasing after you!
My stomach flipped.
Actually, that never happened before and I thought I was going to throw up and started getting nervous. But his smile, bright and comforting, kept me from fleeing to the coldness of my cabin. 
You’re Cloud, right? And I remember being shocked he knew my name. He revealed he was captain of the opposing Volleyball team in that afternoon’s game. Which saw my pathetic attempts at being useful in a sport rewarded with a ball to the face, the stomach, and somehow my legs much to the resentment of my teammates; who slung every vile slur they had learned in their young lives. 
I felt a wave of hot embarrassment. Tried to bury my face in my knees but he pressed on. Complimenting my attitude despite the failure. I shot pointed glares at my teammates and continued to play despite their displeasure with me. That takes balls, man he smiled. 
We sat together at the lake while the sun descended over the water casting a fiery glow against the water. He informed me he came from New Jersey, mocked me gently when I revealed I’m from Staten Island. We argued over which state has the better pizza. What life was like back home. He was entering Sophomore year of high school-and I always forget that fact when I reflect on our relationship...if I could even call it that. 
Zack became my friend first; guiding me during those dark weeks of camp. He invited me to sit at his table in the mess hall with his two other buddies. He taught me how to throw a football in a perfect spiral. Took me rowing on the lake during free time. Picked me first in every team sport, including capture the flag which saw Sephiroth on the opposing team. 
And we won. 
And I do sometimes remember the sensation when Zack threw his strong arms around me, cheering my success. How it felt like a million needles pricking my skin and my heart thundered to a halt. And I was so caught up in the fleeting moment of pure euphoria, I barely acknowledged the strange look Sephiroth shot threw his silver bangs as he cocked his head to the side and watched Zack and I be ushered off to revel in our victory. I recall it at times when he gives me that same look. The same look he gave when he asked about Reno the first time. And I get sick just thinking about how far back he planned everything. 
The night of the victory, after dinner with our team and sharing scary stories over the campfire, Zack walked me back to my cabin late. And pulled me into a hug I didn’t understand at the time. And another feeling pooled in the pit of my stomach when he ran his big hands down my back, stopping short of my buttocks before bringing them back up. Nerves. He felt so much bigger than me. Maybe at the time I felt safe in that embrace. But it’s tainted now but what happened after. And while he whispered Good Job, shorty in my ear like a supportive friend, I think I knew there was something else he wanted to say. Something he communicated with an extra squeeze before he released me into the damp darkness of my cabin. 
I laid in bed that night thinking only of Zack. 
Recalling the last few weeks of our budding friendship. Calculated every time he found an excuse to touch me, whether it be a playful push or messing up my hair or kicking me underneath the table. His defense of me to the few friends he had, who hated a tiny kid running around behind them like Peter Pan’s unwanted shadow. Counted on my fingers how many times he gave me this look, the same look Tifa would give me under the covers. 
And I realized between the obvious fucking tent in my pants and the rush of butterflies in my stomach- I was in pre-pubscent love with Zack. 
My friend. 
The older boy who took pity on me. 
And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. 
I laugh about it now, when I’m throwing back shots of vodka to numb myself from the trauma of it all. But then, I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face that remained there until one of my cabin mates discovered my issue and called me out in front of everyone. 
I forgot how easy rumors start. 
But I hadn’t considered that fact
And maybe history just repeats itself.
Zack became my first in almost everything..
My first real kiss under the moonlight after we snuck into the lake after hours. Jumped in with our clothes on- and despite the heat that hung in the air, the water felt like frost. But he was warm. When he ran his hands against my cheek. When our lips met. And I thought this was the most beautiful feeling I could ever experience. The height of human emotion.
And one night, after sneaking out successfully for almost a week, we went to where they stored the canoes- and I never found out how he accessed the shed. He whispered promises in my ear. Told me I was beautiful. 
I played a dangerous game; followed his lead. Accepted acts I offered in return without understanding the consequences. Curse of childhood is short sightedness. And I mistook his acceptance of me as loyalty. And I got myself wrapped up in him that I forgot the person I was before he engulfed me in his gaze. I wanted to be Zack as much as I wanted Zack to love me; like the love they show in movies. Artificial passion. 
Playing these memories back, only three and a half years later, it feels like a different life. And as soon as I feel those rough reminders, my brain shuts down. I’ve drank him away so many times, I find him to be more of a phantom than a tangible being of meat and bones. Who took my innocence away.
And then like a switch flipped-
I approached him at our usual spot in the mess hall. He ignored me. 
When I tried making strain conversation, he offered one word answers. 
The judgmental eyes of his friends drilled into me. And I left with my head low; wondering what I did wrong. Thinking he got tired of me just like Sephiroth did. 
Sephiroth, I found him in the cabin reading one of the comics I brought with me. Lounging in his bunk. Eyes darted to me. And all he said I heard a rumor. 
Apparently someone discovered our actions in the canoe. And that someone threatened Zack he would tell the whole camp. But that someone felt so inclined to tell Sephiroth what he saw. My stomach dropped out of my body. The hazel-eyed boy just stared at me as he vacantly recalled the information he received from his source. And followed with how disgusted he was to be associated with me. 
And I denied.
Denied
Denied. With increasing alarm. And with every crack of my voice, his lips curled. Twitched into a smile. 
And I denied until I started believing in my own words. 
And I blamed Zack-
But I don’t think I’m entirely wrong in that. Which adds another stone to my back that crushes me. One I should have started cracking when I went to therapy and maybe I wouldn’t be such a confused, chaotic, disaster of a person. Any self-confidence I had captured crumbled and turned to dust that year.
I tried to bury all those memories instead of actually addressing them- and now here I am. Presented with a similar situation. An enemy, under the guise of a friend, had weaponized a personal part of myself for his own selfish pleasure. And I stand alone. Bailed on by a person who claimed to care-
And maybe it’s time to change the narrative. 
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