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amadcap · 2 years

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What The Hell Is Wrong With Me?

I try to live my life as a mix between a science experiment and an art project. I think of a weird thing to do with some aspect of my life and then take the results, hang them on a wall and call it art. Some examples of this include interviewing my ex-romantic partners on the radio, planning my own funeral as a birthday celebration, spur of the moment road trips packing only a camera, etc. It’s not an ideal way to live but it’s working for me.

My latest experiment is a bit excessive, even for me. It started, as most things do for me, as a joke about having been single for almost twelve years now and having only a vague idea why. Friends would say, “I don’t know why you’re single. You seem fine to me.” and I’d have no definitive response other than “I’m just a weirdo who doesn’t go out.” or the ever quippy, “I can’t afford it.”. We all assumed it was because I’m a curmudgeon, hence the pen name, but somehow grumpier, crustier people than me are happily coupled. Why not this old man? Why can’t I do that? Essentially with my latest experiment, I hoped to get closer to answering a simple question. What the fuck is wrong with me?

This new endeavor can be found (at least until I stop paying for the hosting fee that is) at wouldyoudatethisguy.com. If it’s later than that and the website has been retired to whatever void old websites go to, the site was basically a one-sheet personal ad. Complete with photos, likes & dislikes, flaws, what I’m looking for and a very cheesy video I made of me giving a tour of my house while reiterating the info on the page. At the end of the page is (or was) a link to a survey that asked people to rip into me and see if what they found was any good. I could have just found a therapist but this seemed like more fun.

I think I’m funny.

So, why do this? If you’ve read this far, that’s the one thing I’m sure you’re asking. Well, as I mentioned, I’ve not been in a committed relationship in about twelve years. In fact, it’s been around six years since I’ve so much as held the hand of someone. I’ve asked a few different women, with very different personalities, if they’d like to date, but each has kindly and tactfully turned me down. Now, instead of taking the red-pill, incel, blame all women approach, I took a closer look at the situation and realized I am the only common denominator in all my relationship woes. So, therefore, the problem must be with me.

Also, if I’m being really honest, I’m just fucking lonely a lot. I work all the time just to come home to my cat, Leonard, who admittedly is adorable (more on that later) but his life advice stinks. I’m far from being alone in being lonely. We seem to live in a time where loneliness is rampant and actual becoming a full-on public health crisis. The UK even found time around Brexit to appoint a Minister of Loneliness. But since I’m in the US, where I’ve been without health insurance as long as I’ve been without a partner, I don’t think that will help me much, so I guess I have to help myself.

So, in a truly scientific endeavor, I made the website and survey, the most accurate and scientific of tools. I tried to present myself as honestly as I could, for better or worse. Both my virtues and my vices. So let’s go over the results and see if we can figure out what makes me so undateable.

HYPOTHESIS AND INTENT

Let’s get the obvious out of the way. This experiment is not, as one response put it, “-a trick to get girls to talk to you?”. The survey is completely anonymous and I collected no data that gave me a way to contact anyone. In fact, I only received one Instagram, one number, one email and one person who left their name but they only did so just to offer their services in making a better dating profile. I, obviously, did not reach out.

So if this isn’t a strange misguided attempt at finding a partner, what is it? Well, I figured if there is something wrong with me that keeps people from wanting to date me, I am unaware of it. Over the years, I’ve asked out at least a half dozen women and only one has said yes. I’m smart enough to know it’s not because “all women are crazy” or anything like that, so it must be me.

So if there is something that makes dating me such an unthinkable thing, what is it? And just as importantly, am I willing and/or able to change it? Survey says-

DEMOGRAPHICS

Let’s talk about who was brave enough to take this survey.

As you can see from this fancy word cloud, this was a real white woman affair. In fact, I only had a handful of non-white people fill out responses. I don’t know why this is, maybe I just know too many white people or maybe non-white people saw the ad I put on Facebook and, rightfully so, thought it was some white people nonsense.

I did appreciate all the men, gay or straight, that responded but there was a massive gulf in the tone of those responses. While the gay men were kind and very flirty, even if they weren’t interested, the straight boys were very upset at me. Apparently, self-improvement and feminism is gay. But I’ll get into that later.

Also, to highlight just how long it has been since I’ve been in the dating world, there were a lot of people who were not a man or woman, gay or straight. I had to ask a coworker a lot of definitions for all the new-to-me things you can be. I think it’s great but I had trouble when it’s was just the beginnings of a spectrum of sexuality coming into the mainstream culture. I must seem so boring. In the Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory of sexual expression, I’m like black coffee and toast.

One of these new (but not really) types that were a big chunk of my survey responses were people who are polyamorous. I found this to be a very interesting and probably a healthy trend since everyone else who sent in answers that were in a monogamous relationship almost unanimously said they’d rather date me than whoever they’re dating, in some sort of “grass is greener on the other side” kind of situation. Maybe more people should start varying their source of emotional support and sexual satisfaction. Food for thought.

DO YOU LIKE ME? YES OR NO?

These stats do not paint a particularly hopeful picture of my romantic future. The graph makes it look better than the numbers do. Only 28% of people said they would date me and most of the ‘Other’ category was “Maybe” and “No and here’s why…”. Also, as I said before, most of those willing to date this mess of a person were in their own messy relationships. As one Eastern European responders said, “I’m just in a relationship with the wrong guy”. She then went on to chastise me for not taking care of my mental health. Sometimes people give the advice they need to hear.

THE POSITIVES

As we dive into the nitty-gritty of this…whatever this is, I have some good news and a lot more bad news. Let’s start with the good news, which, aside from one very nice European woman who said I reminded her of Kuzco from one of my favorite movies, The Emperor’s New Groove, can be broken down into two main attributes people perceived from my page.

The first positive thing people said about me when pushed, was that I’m open and honest with how I portray myself, flaws and all. This I take as a compliment as I pride myself on my openness. If you hang around me more than a few times, I’m sure to share an incredibly personal tale or any emotion and thought running through me, regardless of how appropriate it might be, without much prodding. There are only a handful of things in my life that I’ve only told one or two people and even fewer things I’ll take with me to my grave. But I admit, this isn’t out of some altruistic sense of being “myself” at all times and is instead a way to weed out people I wouldn’t get along with anyway. If I’m unapologetically myself constantly than it is less likely I’ll waste my time around people I don’t mesh with. A coping mechanism if I’ve ever heard one but you gotta read the room somehow.

The second compliment I got a lot is that I’m “so brave” for putting something like this out into the world. Coworkers, who have experienced first hand the conception and execution of this experiment, have expressed a similar sentiment. Saying things along the lines of how they would not be able to withstand some of the abuse I was reading to them through laughter. This is something I wholeheartedly disagree with. There’s nothing brave about being a narcissistic weirdo. Abuse is relative, at least for me. I just don’t care what some Eastern European, self-proclaimed white supremacist, that has taken a few precious minutes out of his surely busy schedule, to call me names has to say. As I reassured my coworkers, there’s nothing they could say that I haven’t already told myself. Which leads nicely into the bad news.

THE NEGATIVES

Just as in my real life, the people who filled out this survey really did not like me. But, unlike my real life, these people didn’t have a real reason to dislike me as much as they professed to. I guess it was more instinctual for them. Regardless, among the sincere constructive criticism, some trends did emerge.

First off, while some praised me for my honesty, others were very put off by the prospect of it. I think this reflects more on the person taking the survey than on me. As for my part, what I meant when I talked about being “…more than brutally honest, I’m unnecessarily honest.” is that I am lazy. I don’t have the energy to tell the little lies that seem to keep most relationships going. For example, if my partner made a big mistake with something and left something in ruins because of it, I wouldn’t sugarcoat what had happened. I wouldn’t offer empty sympathies like, “it’s ok. It’s not your fault.”. But what I would do is be honest as well as offer solutions. Saying, “You fucked up but here’s what we can do about it.” is more my style.

The main fear that people had about my style of honesty, as well as my “negativity”, which I’ll get to in a minute, was that it was a veiled excuse to be an asshole. The thing is, I’ll fully admit I’m an asshole. I don’t need a veiled excuse to tell anyone that. But to me, there is a distinction between an asshole and an outright dick. The difference is an asshole like me is just going about their day when someone inserts themselves into their life and instead of being nice about it, they let their inner venom out. On the other hand, a dick is someone who is on the prowl for someone the can be mean to and fuck over. When someone asks me if they’re annoying and I say yes, I’m an asshole. When someone calls a complete stranger on the street fat and ugly, they’re a dick. Oscar The Grouch and Dr. House are assholes while your hight school bully and Alex Jones are dicks through and through. Aside from the being fictitious or not, there’s a wide gulf there.

I’m not trying to defend the fact that I “don’t suffer fools gladly” as I’m sure my eventual obituary will read, but after working midnights at a convenience store for almost a decade, among a bunch of other reasons, it’s just how I approach the world. I come from a place where you have to be a little mean to get by. Right or wrong, I don’t think I’d be able to change that now and I’m not sure I’d want to. But to those who think both assholes and dicks are the worst, there might be some comfort in this quote from E.M. Cioran that just might glimpse my future.

“We forgive only madmen and children for being frank with us: others, if they have the audacity to imitate them, will regret it sooner or later.”

Along with my uncomfortable level of honesty, people seemed to be real turned off by my so-called “negativity”, which I expected. If you haven’t gathered it by now somehow, I’m a pessimist through and through. I plan to write more on the subject in the future, which I’m sure people will just love, but basically I see life as pointless and absurd and that view of the world frees me up to try and live as authentically as I can. The prism of pessimism allows me to find what I dislike in the world and make efforts to change it. To put it plainly, if you don’t like my no-bullshit-the-world-is-messed-up-and-we-need-to-change-it attitude, you don’t like me.

Let’s move now from the problems people had with me in the present tense and look to my future or, in this case, a lack thereof. One of the biggest of the issues people found was the absence of future plans for my life. It seemed to them that the only thing I knew about wherever I wanted to go with my remaining years and whatever I wanted to do, I wanted to do it without children. The thing is, they’re right. I, like a lot of people, whether they admit it or not, have no idea what I’m doing. In fact, I probably have even less idea of what I’m doing than most. You see, I’ve always been a mess mentally. I have several attempted suicides in my past along with a host of other mental kinks. So I wholeheartedly did not expect to make it this far in life and I had no plan. Boy does it show.

When I was close to turning 28 and realized I wouldn’t be joining some of my unfortunate heroes in the 27 Club, I had what I’m sure is the first in a series of life-crises to come. I was still trying to be some sort of rockstar while living in my parents' basement, working a dead-end job, driving a van and spending all my money on putting out and buying records. I was a walking cliché. So I quit music, something that had previously been the only thing to make me happy, got a “real” job, bought a house with a mortgage and signed a lease on a hybrid in just under two years. I did all the things you’re supposed to do as an adult in America. But now what? Do I regret all the dream chasing I did? Not at all because I have some weird stories about almost dying from it. But I don’t miss it either. Here I am now though and barring any undiscovered tumor or tragic car accidents, I’m not kicking the bucket anytime soon. So what do I do with myself until then? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m just doing the same thing I’ve always done. Taking it as it comes and hoping I survive. As long as I’m not living in my car again, I consider it a win.

The only thing I am certain of in my future is I will spend it without children of my own if I can help it. Being alone for so long has done it’s part to keep me on track in that regard but it has also significantly narrowed my dating field. Almost everyone I know is chasing little genetic copies of themselves around. Part of the reason behind being so anti-offspring is the aforementioned mental problems that I feel would be cruel to knowingly pass on to a kid. I know what it was like to be that kid and I wouldn’t want to risk putting anyone else through that. Plus, kids are expensive and I can barely feed myself most of the time. How would I be able to afford growing a whole human?

People lecture me all the time about not having children. They tell me it’s a phase and I’ll change my mind but I’ve been saying I don’t want kids since I was 15 and I would still go out and get a vasectomy right now if I could afford it. That right there should be the first sign that I’d be a bad father. There are enough unwanted children in the world without me adding to them. When I got to an age when all my friends started getting married and spawning little ones, everyone thought I’d suddenly get envious and want one of my own. When in fact the exact opposite happened. Being around a screaming, shitting, puking bag of germs caused my sperm to commit a mass suicide. I’ve never been happier to be alone. This may seem harsh but I just don’t have that parenting bone in my body. I like having spending money and a quiet house too much I guess.

One last theme I noticed in these responses was a worry around me stating that I “…don’t take very good care of myself, mentally or physically.”. I have no real defense for this. I make an effort to better myself, just in strange ways. This survey is a prime example of that. The only thing I can really say about it is, I don’t drink and I don’t do any drugs. Instead, I eat greasy gas station food and drink nonstop sugar and caffeine. Everyone has their vices and those are mine. I should probably work on that though but I don’t see any pressing reason to. With no one special in my life, who am I hurting other than my own guts?

So yea, people, on the whole, were not impressed with me. But that was the point of this whole endeavor anyway. To find constructive criticism and decide if those criticisms were valid and actionable. The thing is, not all the criticisms were constructive. Which brings us to, not more bad news, but hilarious news.

THE WEIRD AND MEAN

This being the internet, my website attracted more than just the curious and helpful. It also brought out the weirdos, the hilarious, the trolls and the outright nazis. Because of course it did. There are two universal truths on the world wide web. Whatever it is, someone hates it and someone jacked off to it. It might have been the same person.

In an attempt to get eyes on the survey from outside my immediate circle, I took out an online ad promoting it. For some reason, that ad really took off in Eastern Europe and if they’re anything to go off of, I won’t be stopping in Bulgaria any time soon. These responses were vicious and I’ve probably never laughed harder.

These complaints are all over the place. A lot of guys took this opportunity to call me “gay” and other, harsher terms for gay, which sent me into flashbacks of my middle school experience. One word used a lot was “cringe” or “it gave me the cringe” as the kids seem to say. One woman from “right behind me” provided me with the very specific insult, “It might look like something Michael Cera would take as an inspiration for his next role.”. I’ll be sure to call his agent. Another person skipped every question save the one about what they didn’t like and just wrote a single word, “pretentious”. That made me laugh almost as much as the gay Greek man who, in response to being asked if he was single, said, “we havin’ fun”.

Not every joke landed though. Aside from the worn-out, “you’re gay bro” approach, plenty of people left messages I’m sure they thought was funny. Some of them were maybe part of some Gen-Z humor I just don’t get, like the person whose main comment was “[c o n t a i n e r]”. Kids these days, with their meme humor and their snapchaps or whatever. Then there was the sizable group of responses that identified themselves as goblins and threatened to eat my toes. This might have been the more innocent version of the surprising amount of people who identified as “Apache attack helicopter”. I thought this was a strange inside internet joke I was unaware of or some astonishing coincidence but was then informed by a coworker that this a slight again trans and nonbinary people. Everyone knows it’s a funny joke when it has to be explained. These people are a prime example of the aforementioned dicks.

If there were any prevailing opinions among the more extreme feedback, it was a distaste in my politics. I didn’t need this survey to know that fascism and far right politics are on the rise across the Western world but damn Eastern Europe, you’ve got a big Nazi problem. At least a third of responses, almost exclusively made up of straight men, made references to me being an “antifa cuck” or a “feminist cuck” or, to mix it up, simply a “cuck pussy”. They’re a real clever bunch.

Now, of course, this is exactly the reaction I wanted from people like this when I mentioned my politics. Anyone who openly admits they are a white supremacist is not welcome in my life. Some of these dudes had to prove how macho they really were by really digging into me. The best of all these was Respondent #209 with answers like, “You are not cool. Stop trying to be cool. This experiment will accomplish nothing. Get a real job, please. (Note: I made the whole website and wrote most of this article on the clock at work) Get proper education.” and, “He is a failure in life with no future, trying to make something of himself by begging for attention online. I only made this fake profile to show him how much of a failure he is. Please, stop trying to make something of yourself when you are actually a nobody.” and my favorite, “…he is so ugly he deserves to die in the worst possible way.”. He was a real charmer.

Speaking of charmers, other prime examples of the master race tried to convince me to change into one of them. They told me to “bulk up”, get a Richard Spencer-esque haircut and buy a suit. One respondent pulled a YouTube-like move of relentlessly recommending I check out Jordan Peterson, the misogynistic philosophy professor who is problematic for a lot of reasons. My response to him is the same thing I keep trying to tell YouTube recommendations when it suggests Jordan Peterson, Joe Rogan, Piers Morgan or Bill Mahr. “No, YouTube. Make them go away forever and get back to the Marblelympics.”

THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION ABOUT MY CAT

Moving on from the worst of people, let’s talk about the best of the animal kingdom, pets. This one was a simple calculation. If you answered ‘No’, you went right in the trash pile as far as I’m concerned. You can have your problems with me all you want, but Leonard is precious. End of discussion.

ANSWER SOME QUESTIONS

I got a lot of specific questions and comments that were not easily answered in the general terms I’ve been using. So I figured I use some space here to go through them, list style.

#28: “Are you down to explore abandoned buildings, go on three am diner runs, wander around?” Yes to all three. I only eat at 3am in diners.

#189: “Have a shower, discover grindcore and go get ’em champ!” My dude. I used to be one of the hosts on WCBN’s The Seizure Experiment. It was all metal, punk, and noise. I once saw Full of Hell in a 10x10 room as part of Berserker Fest II. Who do you think I am?

#200: “…it would be important to know how you treat family relations (too close to family, or hate them, etc)” I am not close with my family. We are cordial at best. Which is fine. We are just different kinds of people.

#211: “Where do we go after we die?” Nowhere. This is it. So stop using some sort of afterlife as an excuse. (And my favorite color is orange.)

#213: “I’m really interested on how you come up with this and why… can we talk? ahahah kiss” See the whole article above.

THINGS I COULD HAVE DONE DIFFERENTLY AND CONCLUSIONS

So, was this a perfect experiment? No, obviously not. The sample size wasn’t large enough and it had too narrow of a demographic. It’s also more than likely impossible to present yourself in the span of one page and a video on the internet. One of the main responses I got was there wasn’t enough information on the site to make a decision as to whether I was dateable or not. Maybe I should have linked my social media to get those follows and have my notification bell rung. But that wasn’t the point.

This complaint about needing more information also confused me though. This site offered much more than your average dating app. Any platform I’ve swiped on, which has been many, you get a few hundred characters and maybe six photos to sum yourself up and convince potential partners to message you. If anything I think I gave people too much information, as usual.

The truth is I have a decent idea what the reasons I’m single are. Mainly it’s that I never leave my house unless that is, I’m going to work. True, I work a lot between the two or three jobs I hold down at any one time, so, therefore, I’m out of the house a lot more than your average agoraphobic hermit, but most of these jobs have been overnight shifts, more often than not working on my own, just like everything else I do with my time. I love going to the movies alone. I love eating alone. I love the quiet that surrounds me when I sleep in on a rare day off. No obligations. No pressure. It’s the kind of peace and quiet and time to self reflect you can only get with no one else around. I thrive on that.

To be honest, the only time I notice how lonely I am is when I’m out in public. Being around couples on the street just highlights my lack of any meaningful connection to anyone, if there is such a thing. As I go out and run errands I can’t manage to do in the middle of the night and I run across enticing people, I have one phrase that starts to loop in my head. ‘I’m going to die desperate and alone.’. Over and over until I fall into a deep depression and crawl into bed for a few days. The only thing that helps, ironically, is being around a couple. All the bickering and the venom and the passive-aggressive nonsense, always leaves me feeling better off on my own. To borrow from Kafka,

“No, if one takes it by and large, I have no right to complain that I am alone and have nobody that I can trust. I certainly lose nothing by that and probably spare myself trouble. I can only trust myself and my burrow.”

I’ve been doing stuff on my own for so long I don’t remember how to do it any other way. How do people meet each other? What do they say? I don’t know how to flirt. Whenever I do go out in public I will inevitably cross paths with someone I think is attractive but I am just supposed to walk up to them and blurt that out? I have no other excuse to interact with them. Plus, have you seen the sexual crime statistics in this country? If I was a woman and I saw a dude that looked like me approaching me, it’d be throat chop, knee to the groin, mace and go. It amazes me that any white men have partners after the shit we’ve pulled the last 2000ish years. Yet they do, but not me. I have no idea what you’re supposed to do out in the real world. I might as well be another species.

My point is, maybe, in fact, more than likely, I’m just not gonna find anyone and that is ok. Not everyone does. Comedian Daniel Sloss has a great special called ‘Jigsaw’ that dissects Western cultures obsession with finding “the one” and in it he mentions how statistically unlikely it is that, out of the seven billion people on Earth, there would be only one for me and they would live anywhere close to where I live. It’s just as likely that I’ll never meet the right person and I have to learn to be ok with that, which I think, on my best days, I am.

One of the main flaws with this experiment, and all online dating for that matter, is that there are just some things you can’t convey online. Plenty of people said they’d have to interact with me in person to see if “there was chemistry”. There’s a lot of merit to that. When you only have some words and a video on a website to work with, it comes out a bit one-sided. Interacting with people, like any performance, is changed and fed by the audience, who in this case is the potential partner. You have to read the room, so to speak, and give someone the once over with your bullshit detector before you know if someone is a waste of time or not. That’s something it’s very difficult to do on the internet.

Now, that is not to say this was all a waste of time and money. First and foremost, I found it hilarious and I’ve done much dumber and more expensive things for jokes. But I also gleaned an outsiders perspective on myself that I will be taking into account in the future. The traits I thought people would point to as the things that are wrong with me were barely mentioned while things I hadn’t even thought of were. Perception is fickle like that.

One thing is definitely true. I had already been told in the past that I have high standards as if that was a bad thing. From this survey, I’ve realized that maybe those standards are there for a reason. I do not want kids and it would be unfair to any preexisting children for me to pretend otherwise. I am a pessimist. I’m a funny pessimist, but still a pessimist none the less and that’s just not something I want to stop being. Also, my left-wing politics are a reflection of my very left-wing values. So if you’re some alt-right cheerleader with a hard-on for Ben Shapiro, it’s not gonna work out. These things are all dealbreakers and I’d rather be kind of lonely sometimes than miserable with someone I don’t get on with at a fundamental level.

On the whole though, I think the main thing wrong with me is that I was so convinced that there is something wrong with me. That’s not just me crawling even farther up my own ass. I should say, there’s nothing any more wrong with me than there is with anyone else. I’m not perfect by any measure but no one expects me to be. I’m not a Prince Charming or a white knight or whatever else Jordan Peterson wants men to be. I have my strengths and my weaknesses but I try to work on those weaknesses when I can. That’s all I really can do. At the end of the day, I’m just a Midwestern punk weirdo who has a rough exterior but cries at movies, reads constantly, eats shitty food and who wouldn’t mind being with someone if the opportunity arrives. All I can do is continue to figure out my own life a day at a time, trying to live as authentically as possible and occasionally asking someone if they’d like to team up and figure it out together. Here’s hoping someone takes me up on that offer someday. Short of that, a big pay raise and a good therapist couldn’t hurt either.

#science #writing #dating #single life #love

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copperbadge · 2 years

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Hey this is a weird one! Your nonprofit post is going around. And I’m in a position where I can give a lot of money away, lately. I don’t 100% understand how to tell what is and isn’t a good charity? Like I know charity navigator gives you a lot of information but also like….favors organizations that aren’t paying very many employees? And you probably can’t help as much with this part, but how do you decide which types of causes to support? Like I like animals, but it seems fucked up to choose them over people, and there’s only so much money…

This is a good question and a very complicated answer. To start with I'm going to point you to a previous post of mine, which talks about the best way to find and form a relationship with a nonprofit. Most of the information you want will be there.

Charity Navigator is not a terrible way to go about finding local nonprofits to support; they've expanded the data they collect, and if someone is rated highly on Charity Navigator they're probably pretty good! It's just good to bear in mind that most solid nonprofits put 20-30% of their money towards "operating" costs with the exception of some, like Charity:Water, which claim that 100% of their proceeds go to program costs. (Technically this is true; there's an entirely separate foundation that pays their operating costs, so your donations aren't paying salary, but someone's is. Charity:Water is a perfectly fine nonprofit, they just operate unusually in that regard.) It's also normal for a good charity's CEO to make six figures; in order to keep good talent you really do have to pay a CEO upwards of $100K/yr. If you bear these facts in mind you'll be okay when it comes to evaluating Charity Navigator's information.

Deciding on a cause to support can be intensely personal. I think we all have an imaginary "outsider" in our head who looks at us and judges us, sometimes; to that imaginary outsider, choosing animals over people can seem fucked up. But you can play that game forever, the Who Deserves It More game -- do drug addicts or domestic abuse survivors deserve it more? Should you support police watchdogs or racial equality groups? Should you give to a shelter that only provides short-term solutions or a politician who is lobbying for ones that will take a while to achieve but be more permanent?

I think a lot of Cynthia Heimel when people ask me about this. She wrote an essay about how her "thing" is dogs. She couldn't figure out where to put her time in terms of activism; she decided that you just have to pick a cause and then put on blinders to the rest. Someone's got to obsess about stray dogs and she decided it was going to be her. That helped me a lot when I was younger.

Ultimately, a lot of people are not even thinking about giving, yours or often theirs. The majority of the time, if you say "I work with this animal shelter" what is going through someone's head is "Oh man I bet they get to play with puppies" and not "Why aren't they feeding starving orphans." There's a lot of virtue signaling online that tends to imply you should only give to the most worthy cause, when in reality that's a judgement only a very few, very difficult people will make of you. Most people who hear you are supporting a nonprofit will just be pleased you are. And honestly whether or not you give, and where, is nobody's fucking business anyway.

And you can spread it around if you want! Currently, I give monthly in small amounts to the Anti Cruelty Society (animal welfare in Chicago), my alma mater (education), and the Resurrection Project (housing and homebuying aid for underserved populations in Chicago). Yearly, I buy memberships to the Art Institute for myself and the Audubon Society for my parents, and I fundraise for my employer. Sporadically, I give to local Chicago initiatives that feed underserved and unhoused communities. Whenever I publish a novel, I do a fundraiser for something thematically linked to the novel. Sometimes I give to peoples' gofundmes for moving costs or car repair or top surgery, particularly when I've gotten a little windfall.

Anyway, that's my two cents. I give to organizations that have touched me personally or touch on causes I am intensely invested in, which seem to be actively working in the communities they claim to serve, who pay their staff a decent wage and haven't got any recent scandals when I google them :D I can only recommend others do the same.

#nonprofits #charity #philanthropic giving

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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Take all of my Firsts.

Genre : awkward humans in love. A lot of first times done wrong? Or possibly done just right.

Rating : 21+

Warnings : Its written by me. Thats all the warning you’re gonna get. also Jungkook here is a whole cutie i’m in love.

Summary : After getting fired and blacklisted for refusing to sleep with her boss, 26 year old Hana is kind of desperate for a job. So much so, she applies to be the secretary of the painfully awkward, absolutely anti-social Jeon Jungkook, the bumbling CEO of a brand new start up company.

~~~~~~~~~~~

1. First Date. (1/?)

“ This is blue.” Jeon Jungkook's impressively large figure filled the entryway to my tiny cubicle, shoulders brushing the two wooden frames on either side of him and when he carefully stepped into the workspace, the rickety old boards beneath our feet creaked ominously.

Both of us paused, waiting to see if today would be the day the dilapidated warehouse finally gave up on us, plunging us twenty feet down into the basement.

When after a second, Jungkook still stood tall, very much not falling to his untimely demise in an explosion of broken floorboards and rubble, I finally exhaled in relief and looked at what he was showing me.

I blinked, staring at the pen in his hand. It looked pretty ordinary by all standards, nothing remarkable. But the way Jungkook was staring at it, implied that it had done some sort of very personal affront to his person.

“Uh..yes?” I wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this whole thing.

“There are three blue pens in my draw. I only require two on any day. One that i use and another as a spare in case the first one fails in some way. This is not required.” He intoned gently.

I could feel the urge to scream, slowly build.

“Right... of course. Very carefully analyzed and concluded, sir. I just don’t know...” why on earth are you telling me this?

“My draw is cluttered by this pen. A second spent picking and dropping this around is a second of my time wasted, Hana. And you know how I feel about wasted time and its effect on our productivity.”

And you know how I feel about this moldy ass warehouse office that you insist we use because its free and you don’t have to pay rent, there’s insects here that are probably extinct in the outside world, not to mention there's a very suspicious looking algae growing on the underside of my table and I don’t wanna know if its going to mutate and eat me whole, but you don’t really care about any of that , do you, you murderously oblivious pinhead ??

“ Hana! Are you listening to me?” Jungkook’s voice snapped me out of own head and i smiled weakly, carefully plucking the open out of his hand.

“I’ll get rid of it , sir.” I said dutifully, getting up to drop the pen on a side table and the floor boards creaked again, louder . I froze, staring down at the small cracks in the floor, offering me a glimpse of the dusty basement underneath us.

Please God, don’t let me die in this hellhole.

“Get rid of it?” Jungkook looked very serious, his handsome face scrunched in displeasure and I wondered yet again why I was still here.

And yet i felt the familiar curl of reluctant affection as well. I had only been working for him for a little over two and a half months and i already felt a desperate need to save him from the world and himself.

Mostly himself.

“Uh..no?” I asked confusedly and he sighed deeply.

“That would be an awful waste. The pen should merely be stored away for future use, hopefully somewhere other than my draw. I hate clutter.”

Right. Right of course. I tried to smile soothingly.

“ I understand your sentiments perfectly, Mr. Jeon. i take full responsibility for not ...de-cluttering your draw this morning.” because i was too busy adjusting our budget for the month, setting up seven interviews with potential employees and seventeen other meetings with clients and investors. But who cares about that right? When there’s a whole extra pen that needs to be taken care of.

“ Excellent. Also, the dinner with Kim Sera? Could you tell her that I am not available for coitus?”

I choked on my own saliva, coughing in disbelief.

“Are you dying? Do you wish me to call the ambulance?” He frowned and i spluttered, shaking my head.

“No.. i... No. Just... Sera... You. I... What?” I choked out.

He rolled his eyes.

“I said, Could you tell Ms. Kim that I am not available for coi-”

“I HEARD YOU.” I shouted and he jumped a bit. “ I.. I heard you, sir. But ...just... She merely asked you out to dinner? She’s a potential client and-”

“I only meet potential clients here in my office. I only get asked to dinner, in order to have coi-”

“SEX!!” I shouted in desperation. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around Jungkook saying coitus. it was warping my insides and making my gut clench, intestines twisting like little snakes.

“Excuse me?” He tilted his head in confusion and I felt my heart ache, completely at odds with the throbbing headache he was giving me, pulse racing at how ridiculously cute he looked, considering he was a grown man of twenty five. A whole three months older than me and yet it felt like i was babysitting him all the damn time.

“Please just say sex. its what every one says... coitus is just-” i felt slightly nauseous.

Jungkook frowned deeply.

“Sex can hold different meanings. Like gender , for example. I merely wish to avoid confusion. when i say coitus I’m talking about the physical act of a penis-”

I brought my palm down on the table with enough force to scatter the papers and send the stationery flying . Jungkook jumped a little.

“I feel-” i shuddered, “ this conversation is getting derailed, a bit Sir.. Lets just talk about why you think, Ms Kim wants to have sex with you.”

Jungkook opened his mouth to argue and i groaned.

“Coitus.” i choked out quickly. “ Why do you think Ms. Kim wants to have coitus with you?”

Jungkook shrugged.

“Its what I get asked out for.”

I blinked.

“You... Dinner is ... It doesn't always have to be for sex, Sir. People go out to dinner to talk to each other all the time.” I protested.

Jungkook frowned.

“Really? People don’t like when I talk.” He stared down at his feet.

I felt that familiar fist around my heart again.

“I... “

“Its alright, Hana. I understand I’m peculiar and i make people comfortable. So they often just want me to eat in silence and take then back to my apartment.” He shrugged. “ It was wrong of me to assume that that is how all humans behave. I still don’t think Ms. Kim would want to have dinner with me. Even if she did, I may ruin our chances. I’m not.. I’m not good with people.”

I stared at him.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” I blurted out, before I could think it through.” Sir.”

Jungkook looked up, frowning.

“What?”

“A dinner date sir. You and I, tonight. I’ll reschedule your meeting with Ms. Kim to tomorrow night. I’ll show you how dinner dates go. And you can be ... well... you can feel more comfortable when you meet her.”

Jungkook considered.

“That is an excellent idea. You will take me out on a date and teach me what to say and do.”

I smiled, nodding.

“And there will be no coitus.”

That word had definitely grown on me.

“No sir. No coitus.” I fought the urge to grin.

“It would be my first date then. A proper date.” He looked excited.

And then he frowned.

“What must I wear?” He asked confusedly.

“Oh something casual should be fine?”

“Casual....you mean like my beige suit? i admit I haven;’t work it in years because its a bit too frivolous but I can make an exception. You’re a bit ...” He paused,” wild yourself.”

Not sure what he meant by wild, i merely shook my head.

“No suits sir. Just some shirt and slacks should be fine.”

Jungkook frowned again.

“That sounds incredibly scandalous. Are you sure you don’t wish to have coitus?” He asked eyes narrowed in suspicion.

This time the laugh escaped against my will.

“Your virtue is safe with me sir.” I said with a straight face and he sighed.

“Well, then. I shall meet you at the same restaurant where I was to meet her? At 8.00?”

I hesitated.

“Sure. Unless you’d like the full date experience?”

Jungkook leaned forward, clearly intrigued.

“What is that?”

“If you meet me at the subway station near your apartment at six, i’ll show you.” I grinned, “ Sir.”

Jungkook nodded enthusiastically.

“Excellent. I’ll do that Hana.” He smiled and then glanced at the pen , smiling.

“I’ll keep it safe , Sir. Don’t worry about it.”

I watched him walk out of the cubicle, heart racing. i willed myself not to stare at the broad back and narrow waist.

If you develop a crush on him, there is no doubt that you are the weakest link in human history. The reason humanity will die out will be because of your lack of sense, Hana, because even stupidity should have its limits.

( TO BE CONTINUED)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE : So, this is the drabble i was talking about. And i am terrible at fluff so give me ideas for their first date :’(

#jungkook fluff #ungkook fics #jungkook smut #bts fics #ceo jungkook #jungkook fics #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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thedamageofherdays · 3 years

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This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

#r's reading log #my reading log #fic rec #stucky #stucky fic rec #fic recs #stevebucky #long post

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spine-buster · 3 years

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Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒

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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angryschnauzer · 4 years

Text

Do You Want Some Hunny

Summary: Your roommate brings you to a Halloween costume party and your costume is Winnie The Pooh, and you find another resident of the Hundred Acre Wood there who shows you just how well Tiggers can bounce.

Pairing; Henry Cavill x Female Reader (Moodboard disclaimer: Usually i keep any physical images of women out of my moodboards, but i couldn’t find a shot of the shorts without a model in. It is mentioned in the story that the reader purchased the shorts and they/she were not the same as the model)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Crackfic, Smut, Public fingering, Oral Sex (female recieving), unprotected sex, Creampie.

I do not operate a tag list, but please pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story.

Masterlist can be found on AO3, Link HERE.

Do You Want Some Hunny?

You hurried along the pavement, trying to keep up with your roommate as she stalked ahead in her sky high heels, somehow managing to not get them caught in the trim of her Morticia Addams costume. You had opted for your Red Converses that matched your costume and yet still you were having to trot behind her. Fighting against the wind that whipped at your bare legs, you clung to the long parka coat you’d thrown on over your costume, cursing the fact that what you’d chosen at the last minute from an urgent amazon prime order had been more designed for warm climates.

The Winnie The Pooh ears you’d had left over from a trip to Disneyland a few years back were what started it all, a red t-shirt borrowed from your roommate that seemed a lot longer on her than you, and the only thing missing was something yellow to wear with it. You hadn’t wanted to wear a skirt, so had opted for a pair of velvet yellow shorts, however they were a lot shorter than had appeared in the photo, and were very much hotpants rather than shorts. Anyway, they had arrived just a few hours before the party, so it was them or forgo a costume, and not wanting to be a party pooper you decided to go with it.

Following ‘Morticia’ up the porch steps, your heart sank when you saw everyone else’s costumes as they milled around; it was all spooky, dark, and horror movie costumes. Nothing as cute or fluffy as Winnie The Pooh. The host called out to your friend - her girlfriend - and you smiled as you watched the other woman who’d slicked her hair back and had drawn on a mustache to look like Gomez Addams embrace. ‘Gomez’ turned to you and grinned;

“Thanks for coming, i was worried people wouldn’t want to come, let me take your coat”

Shrugging your jacket off you handed it over and fidgeted as she glanced over your costume, you tugged at the shorts;

“Yeah, it was a last minute costume… not very Halloweeny like everyone else”

Gomez winked at you;

“Oh you’re not the only resident of the Hundred Acre Wood here tonight, c’mon, let me get you a drink seeing as my love has wandered off to behead the roses again”

Two hours later you were pleasantly buzzed from a couple of beers, and had been introduced to the other Hundred Acre Wood escapee that was at the party - Tigger - who tended to go by the more human name of Henry.

Six foot of pure muscle was now animatedly installing the virtues of PC gaming having discovered you were starting to learn how to play yourself, all whilst dressed head to toe in a Tigger Onesie. On anyone else it would have looked absurd, but with the zipper undone just enough to show off an inviting patch of chest hair he managed to pull it off. And it wasn’t the only thing you wanted him to pull off. Your attention wandered to his hands and how he was able to circle a beer bottle with his fingers and your words faltered as you explained how you were the hosts girlfriends roommate, instead turning the question back to him;

“So, how do you know Gomez?”

“We’ve been working together on a production here, she’s let me stay in her guest room whilst we’re on a break from shooting”

“You’re an actor?”

He actually blushed at that point;

“Yes… and its quite refreshing to talk to someone that doesn’t immediately recognise me”

Before you could say anything a shout came from the living room;

“Come on! Movie’s about to start!”

Henry led the way and you discovered most of the seats and spots on the sofa’s were taken, finding a single soft chair as he flumped down into it, his legs spread. You paused for a moment before he took your hand without even thinking and pulled you onto his lap;

“There’s enough room for two”

The room was cold, so as the movie started you found yourself snuggling up to the warmth emitting from Henry, envious of his onesie. The room was dark and the massive screen was at the furthest point of the room so everyone’s attention was trained away from the two of you. The movie was one of those modern creep-fests, with ghosts creeping around and the stars oblivious of the entrance to hell they built their cottage on, and with every scare you clung to Henry tighter, his strong arms wrapping around you. Soon you weren’t even paying attention to the movie, your nose hooked under his chin and you let out an involuntary shiver as you were surrounded by his scent.

“Cold?” he whispered

“A little”

He reached and grabbed a blanket that had been tossed over the back of the chair, pulling it over the two of you and it suddenly felt like you were in your own little cocoon. With the warm fabric up to your shoulders you shivered again when Henry slid his hand down beneath the blanket, a grazing touch against the curve of your breast and you found your body arching for more of his touch. He turned to look at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his gaze consciously focused on yours, licking your lips you gave the smallest nod as he pressed forwards. The kiss was silent and as his plump lips caressed yours you sank into his embrace, his hand finding the edge of your top and slipping beneath the fabric, moving to cup your breast through your bra. As his thumb brushed over your nipple you let out a tiny gasp, but it was enough for his tongue to slip inside your mouth.

The kiss deepened and you shifted on his lap, suppressing another groan when you felt him starting to harden beneath you and even through the thick fabric of his onesie you could tell Tigger had a lot for you to bounce on.

Henry however had traced his wandering touch down your body and was toying with the edge of your shorts, a featherlight touch over the inseam had you gasping against his lips. His voice was low as he spoke, barely a whisper;

“Does Winnie want me to play with her Hunny Pot? I bet you’re delicious”

“Henry!” you shushed him; “We can’t, not here!”

“I wasn’t going to eat it, i was just going to taste it… for now…”

Slipping a finger beneath your shorts he hooked them to the side along with your panties, his thick digit swiping through your folds and seeking out your clit, rubbing firm tight circles against it before letting the elastic snap back into place as he brought his finger to his mouth, humming as he tasted you.

Just at that moment there was a pop and the power went out, the movie shutting down and the emergency light in the hallway the only illumination. Gomez stood and said she was going to call the power company, returning a few minutes later with the bad news that a car had taken out a utilities pole down the street, knocking out power for at least a few hours. A suggestion of heading out to a local bar was floated, with general agreement, but hidden by the noise of everyone else your groan of disappointment was both heard and felt by Henry;

“Lets stay here” he whispered; “Come up to my room. We can… snuggle…”

“Just snuggle?”

His wicked grin told you he wanted to do a whole lot more, and in the melee that followed as people searched for their coats by the light of their phones, Henry was able to lead you through the house and up the back staircase, grabbing a couple of halloween lanterns as he went.

Pressed into the mattress you were buck naked as Henry pressed kisses down the valley of your breasts and across your stomach, before disappearing between your thighs. You ached to run your fingers through his hair however he still wore the Tigger Onesie, and what made the situation seem so surreal was that all you could see from between your legs was the top of Tigger’s head.

Henry’s tongue worked utter magic on you as he slid two thick fingers into your tight hole, sucking on your clit until you were bucking beneath him, clawing at whatever your hands could reach before he suddenly pulled away;

“Fuck, that pussy tastes amazing… but i wanna be inside you…”

Kneeling between your legs he unzipped the onesie all the way, his dick springing out from the open zipper.

“You were going commando?”

He grinned at you and winked;

“I was enjoying hanging loose and free until you walked into the party… from the moment i saw you i’ve been sporting a chubby…”

Fisting his dick he lined it up with your entrance and pushed in, the both of you gasping at the feel of skin on skin and the stretch of his fat cock filling you. Setting off slowly he rolled his hips, finding that delicious spot deep inside you almost immediately;

“Fuck, Henry…. Please, harder…”

“You asked for it Winnie… just watch this Tigger bounce!”

He started to pile drive into you, fucking you into the bed you were sent to heaven and god turned you around and send you straight back down again, Henry pushing his legs further apart to get even deeper, the slapping of his balls against your ass and the thick root of his dick rubbing against your clit almost overstimulating you already, trembling around him as he fucked you even harder;

“Are you gonna cum for me, soak me in your hunny?”

“Yes… keep… keep doing that…”

Just a few more thrusts and you were cumming hard, your body gripping him tight as he slowed his thrusts. As you lay trembling with aftershocks from your orgasm, he pressed kisses to your neck and chest, muttering soft praises before he carefully pulled out;

“I’ve gotta take this off before we continue…”

“Conti…. Oh… you haven’t cum yet…”

“Nope… hope you’re ready for round two”

You watched as Henry finally stripped himself of the Tigger Onesie and you got to seem him in his full glory for the first time; dark brown curls, wide shoulders and incredible arms, a chest you just wanted to lay your head on and sleep. As your gaze unashamedly travelled further, you clenched as you followed the thick trail of hair down his stomach to his crotch, his dick still standing hard and proud, before taking in the thick thighs;

“I wanna ride you…”

He laughed, a deep rich cry of happiness as he climbed onto the bed and kissed you before rolling onto his back. Holding his dick steady he watched as you straddled his waist and positioned yourself over him, before slowly sinking down. When you were fully seated he held up his hand;

“Wait a sec…”

Grabbing your Bear Ear headband he lifted it onto your head;

“C’mon Winnie, work that Hunny Pot for me…”

Just at the moment the bedroom door opened, and in the faint light of the halloween lanterns you saw Morticia and Gomez look in shock then laugh;

“Yeah, Tigger and Winnie are fine…”

The door clicked shut and you felt a light smack on your ass, bringing your attention back to Henry. Resting your hands on his chest you rolled your hips and gave it all your worth, giving him the full rodeo. Soon you could feel him start to tremble beneath you, and he quickly sought out your clit, rubbing circles against the tight bud with his thumb as you started to cum, your walls squeezing him tight and setting his own orgasm off as you milked him dry.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, pressing kisses to your face before you rested your head on him.

When you woke the pale light of November 1st was creeping in through the drawn curtains, and for a moment you forgot where you were. Then the heavy muscled arm of the beast you bedded the night before pulled you closer, the warmth of his chest pressing against your back;

“Morning Winne”

“Tigger…”

His hand slid down your stomach, brushing against the patch of hair;

“Hows your hunny pot this morning?”

You hooked your leg over his as you turned your head to look at him;

“Ready to be refilled”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfic

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give-your-name-away · 3 years

Text

Hunger Games Name Analysis

I remember when I was in middle school I was obsessed with the Hunger Games. I only ever had the first book, but I read it over and over again until it's pages were completely warned out. I didn't care about the romance, but I was hooked by everything else. The games were what drew me in, but the world building is what got me hooked. I could tell very easily how different all the districts were and how the capitol kept them under control. I could see how cruel the country was, but everyone lived with it because they had no other choice. It was fascinating to me.

The Hunger Games is actually what started my love for names in the first place, and there is a very good reason for it. Suzanne Collins was very clever with how she used names in her world building and it shows. It helps fleshes out her world and her districts in a very fascinating and unique way.

It took me a while to put my finger on how exactly she does this, but once I did I found it even more fascinating. The key is she didn't look at her world as a monolith. This sounds obvious, but when it comes to the small things like names it's easy to overlook. Collins did not make this mistake, and in turn each district has their own rules for naming their children.

(If you want to read this on AO3 then the link is here https://archiveofourown.org/works/32092420)

District 12: This is one of the districts we see the most of, as it's the home of the main character, Katniss. Some of the names used are Katniss, Primrose, Peeta, Gale, Haymitch, Lucy Grey, Leevy, Posy, and Thom. These are some of the more down to earth names in the universe, and most of them seem familiar, if not a little altered. Peeta seems to be a variant of Peter, Haymitch a variant of Hamish. Leevy could either be decended from Levi or Livy. The names evolved from modern names, which makes sense considering how long in the future it is. In District 12 you either name your children already known names, or names based on nature. (Katniss, Gale, Primrose, Posy, ect) and even some of the natural names change through time. One example is Thom instead of Thorn, or it could be a variation of Thomas.

The thing that is interesting about district twelve is people aren't getting 'creative' with spellings or variants, at least not on purpose. They're naming their children off of things they already know, which is what happened before people had access to things like internet or other cultures to mingle with. District 12 is very isolated, so they use names they already know, names that are familiar even to us. People are also struggling to get by, so they don’t spend much time getting creative.

Capital: The next location we go to is the Capital, and we spend quite a long time there. Some of the names we run into are Coriolanus, Effie, Cinna, Diana, Tigris, Arachne, Seneca, Caesar, Messalla, Octavia, Venia, Urban, and Portia. Most English speakers have somewhat of a familiarity with these names, though more from stories than from people in real life. There seem to be three different categories of names. Names that are descended from Greek names like Effie, Arachne, Portia, Caesar, and Cinna are good examples. There are Roman names like Coriolanus, Diana, Seneca, and Octavia are good examples.

Finally there are the noun names, or noun variant names. They’re not nearly as common it seems, but Tigris and Urban are good examples. They break the rule of exclusively Roman and Greek names which is a good way not to make the Capitol seem like a monolith.

District One: District One names are extremely distinted, and it’s hard not to notice how odd they seem from the beginning, when Katniss mentioned that the district one female was named Glimmer. Other names include Velvereen, Facet, Augustus, Glimmer, Marvel, Cashmere, and Gloss. We don’t have a wide variety of names but the ones we do have are very telling.

There are fabric names like Cashmere, Facet and velvereen, a variant of velveteen. Adjective names are pretty common too. These seem odd to us, but I find them akin to virtue names.

There is an oddball name there, Augustus. It is a Roman name that seems to fit in with the capitol. This could be reminiscent of name trends changing quickly in such an affluent district as he was the victor in the 67th hunger games, or it could just show the closeness between Distinct One and the Capital, to the point that even the baby names are influenced.

District Two: District two names are also distinct, but it’s harder to place exactly why. Some of them are Cato, Clove, Brutus, Enobaria, Lyme, Cray, Romulus, Pugnax, Sejanus, Marcus and Sabyn. As we can clearly see, most of these are Roman. Cato, Brutus, Enobaria, Romulus, Pugnax, Sejanus, and Marcus. Unlike the capital there don’t seem to be any Greek names.

However there are some odd names in the mix. Clove, Lyme, Cray, and Sabyn. They are quite hard to place. Some are real names, but their meanings don’t fit with the district, so I believe Suzanne Collins took the same route as she did in District three (More information below) where she took career related words and altered them enough just to be unrecognizable. After all District two’s official purpose is masonry.

Clove is the present tense of the term Cleave. Lyme is most likely a variant on the word Lye, as the only other thing I could find was the disease, which seems unlikely. Cray could either be the English name that already exists, or a variant of clay.

Sabyn is a bit harder to place, but it seems to be a variant of Sabine, which was a term for people who lived in Rome. It’s not of Roman origin, but it still fits.

District Three: There are only four names to draw from in district three. Beetee, Wiress, Circ, and Teslee. The pattern here is very easy to decipher. They seem to be district career related names, but changed somewhat. Unlike district one names that name their children directly after verbs and nouns very purposefully, district three names are slightly more subtle.

Beetee seems to be based off of the brand name BT. Wiress is clearly based off of Wireless. Circ is a shortened version of Circuit, and Teslee seems to be a variant on Tesla. It’s unlikely that the brands Tesla and BT are still around. They probably just morphed into the language, with the citizens of district three not knowing where they came from, similar to how most people don’t know where names like ‘Mary’ or ‘Zoe’ came from. I’m unsure if Circ and Wiress follow this same pattern, as circuits and wireless seem like they should still exist in the world, but it doesn’t seem purposeful.

District four: District four has much more interesting naming conventions with the names of Mags, Finnick, Annie, Coral, and Mizzen. They seem a little odd, but downright normal.

Coral and Mizzen seem to be the only names that are fishing or water related. Mizzen is the mast in front of a ship's main mast, and Coral is coral. Even then Coral is a perfectly common name in English, so these conventions don’t seem too related to the career of district four.

However Mags is a variant of Margaret, which means pearl. Finnick means marshland, which is a type of wetlands.

Annie does not have a water related name, simply meaning grace. However the existence of both the names Annie and Mags seems to show that it’s common for district four to use nicknames as full names. That itself is not uncommon with how much time had passed, but it is interesting to point out.

District five: While Foxface is from this district ‘Foxface’ is not her real name, so she doesn’t count. There are theories about her real name, but nothing canonical, so I’m not including her. This is a shame because we only have three names to work with. Hy, Sol, and Porter.

The names are very short compared to the other districts. However they also directly relate to the district’s industry of power. While I find this debatable myself Hy seems to be related to Hydraulic power. A little more obvious is Sol being related to Solar power. Porter seems slightly different, named after a porter cable instead of a direct power source.

There isn’t a lot known about this district, so it’s hard to analyze much further.

District Six: Everything about district six is vague. Even it’s industry, which is transportation, isn’t very specific, and there isn’t much to analyze. The names we have are Otto, Ginnee, and Titus.

Names seem to be unrelated to the industry, similar to twelve. Furthermore, similar to twelve the names seem to be alterations on well known names. Otto is just Otto, but Ginnee is a variant on Ginny.

Titus is a bit more complicated. It is a Roman name, like the capitol and the second district. This could mean a lot of things. I find it rather likely that do to their purpose as transportation they have the ability to leave, even if only occasionally, and unlike other districts can absorb certain facets of culture like baby names from outside their district. Of course with such a small sample size this is just a theory.

District Seven: District seven is the lumber district, and the names appear to be very reflective of that, though not in the obvious way. If someone were to think of lumber inspired names they’d probably come up with things like Willow, Oak, Leaf, and Ash, or something obvious. Instead we have Treech, Lamina, Johanna, and Blight.

You really have to look into the meanings, but once you do the implications become clear. Treech is a variant on the word tree. Lamina is the blade of a leaf. Blight is a disease that commonly affects trees and plants, which I find it odd to name your kid after, but it still fits.

Johanna isn’t related to trees in any way, instead it is a common English name. It makes sense for English names to still exist, considering that it takes place in what used to be America. Plus it isn’t the only example of this, as Annie from district four’s name also works like this.

District Eight: We actually have a good sample size from district eight, the district in charge of textiles, despite it being a rather minor district in the story. Bonnie, Bobbin, Cecelia, Woof, Twill, Paylor, and Wovey.

As we see with Bonnie, Cecelia, and Paylor the default names seem to be of European origin rather than Roman origin the further the districts are from the capitol. While I don’t believe this is purposeful I don’t believe it’s entirely accidental. With how far they are from the capitol it makes sense that there wouldn’t be much influence, but on the other hand it also makes sense that the little influence there is wouldn’t be purposefully emulated due to the hatred of the capitol.

The other names seem to be industry related as well. Bobbin is a small tool used in a sewing machine. Woof are the crosswise threads in woven fabric. Twill is a type of fabric weave, and Wovey is from the word wove, the past tense of weave.

Bonnie could either be a normal English name, or a variant of the name Bobbin. Variant names are extremely common, and it’s quite natural that they could develop.

District Nine: District nine is the district of grain, and along with ten we know the least about these two districts. We only have two names to draw from, Panlo and Sheaf, but they are both related to grain.

Sheaf is related directly, as sheaf is the term for when grain is tied together. Panlo is indirectly related, as it is based on the latin word for bread, panis.

District Ten: District ten is the livestock district, but their names don’t seem as related to their industry as the others are. Though we only have three data points to draw from. Brandy, Dalton, and Tanner.

Tanner seems to be the only one directly related to livestock, as Tanner is a career of tanning animal hides.

Brandy is a type of alcoholic drink, and it’s also already a name. Same as Dalton, which means settlement in the valley.

Unlike the other districts all three of these names are actual names used in modern day life. And unlike other districts with common English names these have a distinctly more modern feel to them.

District Eleven: District eleven names are a personal favorite of mine, though I may be slightly biased because of Rue, my favorite character. We have a decent pool to draw from. Rue, Thresh, Chaff, Seeder, Reaper, Martin, and Dill.

I like the symbolism of Rue. The word Rue in english means regret, however it is also a type of flowering plant. Thresh is either named after the method for separating grain from a plant, or the thrush bird. Chaff is the word for a corn husk separated from the corn. A seeder is a type of tool for seeding the ground. Reaper doesn’t mean grim reaper, instead it’s the term for someone who uses a scythe to reap grain. Dill is also a type of herb.

Martin doesn’t relate to the other names, and seems to fall into the ‘leftover English names’ category that seems to exist in all districts.

District Thirteen: District thirteen is an interesting one. They don’t have an industry, not anymore at least, nor do they have any ties to other districts that could influence their names. We have Alma, Boggs, Homes, Mitchell, Jackson, and York.

The interesting thing about these names is that they’re all surnames. Some can be first names like Jackson and Mitchell, but even those ones originate from surnames.

There has been a trend in recent years of parents using surnames as first names. A few examples of this are Sawyer, Taylor, Sutton, Carter, and Madison.

I’m not entirely sure why this trend developed, but I do have a few theories. District thirteen is very strict and militaristic. In such an environment it’s pretty common to refer to people by their surnames, so it makes sense that surnames would start to leak into first names.

Another theory is that referring to someone by their surname was a sign of respect in district 13, similar to how it is in the real world. It’s possible that either consciously or subconsciously parents started using surnames as first names to bring their children prestige. This happens in real life two. One of the most prevalent examples is parents giving their daughters either masculine or male names in hopes that it would help them in the workforce. Of course in district 13 it seems far more widespread than in real life, but unlike real life district 13 has a noticeable lack of outside influences that could provide a more diverse culture.

Although at the end district 13 was taking in refugees from other districts due to their lack of fertility. Their seemed to be people from multiple districts. There was 10% of the population from 12, at least one boy mentioned from 10 and most likely more, quite a few people from the capital, and while it’s only mentioned that two people tried to get there from 8 and failed it wouldn’t be unlikely to assume that there were a few that succeeded in coming to 13. In the future of the universe it would be interesting to see how this would effect naming culture and the development of new names.

#hunger games #the hunger games #district 12 #district 1 #district 2 #the capitol #name analysis

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demonologistfucker · 3 years

Text

WIP Angel MC! x Obey Me pt 2

Part Two - The Museum date with Satan. This is just a ruff of what I got so far. I am enjoying this but i Haven’t had a lot of focus for writing. So I just wanna share what I got so far.

Step into the shoes of an intellectual. I know they are uncomfortable, but these are cushioned with a bias outside human prejudice. They have their own prejudices of course, it’s just not As silly as a humans…. Either way, it’s a different way of looking at history. There is no need to keep colonial powers looking refined and noble.

This museum is not full of anything Real. They are all magical replicas of artifacts long burned, brutalized and forgotten. While it could be enlightening to a great deal of humanity. The plaques mainly speak of the demons who worked along with those doing the burning. It left a rather sick feeling in the angel’s stomach. While showing off the great wonder that was ruined. People still boasted about causing the burning.

Satan did a better job explaining the history. He was detached. Thinking about the matter as a history, and could talk about it easily. Yet when he turned to MC. They had tears in their eyes. Thinking of what it felt like to just be a people, and slaughtered for living. The Angel felt the reality. Both marveling at the people who could create such art and monuments, and the utter despair at how this art came to the Angel’s eyes. So Eventually the Angel started to tune out the world around them, and focused more on their guide. A stranger who was still linked arms with MC.

“I have a question,” MC looks up into Satan’s eyes.

“I might have an answer,” The corner of Satan’s mouth pulled into a sharp smile.

“Do you view angels and demons as enemies?” MC watches Satan’s face closely. His eyebrows shot up for only a second. A brief flash of surprise, and then quickly to thought. His gaze drifting upwards as he rolled the matter over in his mind.

“I think about this a lot, actually,” Satan rubs his chin. “I’m unsure. We are certainly told that we are opposites, but if we looked at the data, I think we’d find something else.” Satan chews on the thought, “There is a whole research of study on whether good even exists, yet there is a realm that claims to obtain All Good. Or define what it is. Which is just ridiculous, and as you can see.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. “Demons are not raging beasts. Sin has its place in reality. Too much of it would be disastrous, true, but not enough would also be a problem.” Satan kept his gaze away from the Angel. Not truly wanting to see them get upset about his stance.

“Can you give me an example?” MC tilts their head. “No one’s talked about sin like that before.”

“Well… Let’s use wrath. Wrath being deemed a sin which is reasonable at first. Being angry and destructive is not helpful. However, wrath has been brought out to protect children, or to fight for justice. Wrath without thought is bad, but it is not bad in itself.” Satan glances at MC to see their expression. Then stays when he sees that MC is thinking it over.

“What matters is how it’s used.” MC says softly. To which Satan nods. “There are plenty of supposedly holy people who are really cruel to keep their virtues.” Now both MC and Satan are sharing a smile. “Some of those people really are the worst. They manage to live up to His standards and yet are still-” MC grits their teeth.

“Bastards? Fuckers?” Satan tries to keep a helpful face, but can’t help the corner of his mouth twitch up.

“Yes!” MC shakes their head to let out some frustration. “Then they summon me to bring them to the bathhouse.”

“You have to bring humans to bathhouses?”

“Where ever they want to go. It is their ‘paradise’ after all, and since I’m not a high ranking angel, so I’m basically supposed to care take for whatever human souls are around me.”

“That sounds… Infuriating.” Satan says politely. He’s overjoyed to see the Angel seething with annoyance, but then something drowns it out. Their face falls and goes back to a placid expression.

“It’s the duty of an angel.” MC’s voice is dryer than before.

“Hmm…” Satan realizes he shouldn’t be staring at the Angel and looks back to whatever exhibit they had landed in front of. “Do you like your duties?”

“Do you like yours?” The Angel looks blankly ahead.

“Ours are very different. I simply Am the avatar. I can spend my days reading and be finishing my duty.”

“Really?” MC looks up in surprises.

“Well, sorta of,” Satan chuckles. “I have RAD duties I can’t get out of, But that’s my choice in the end. I respect Diavolo enough to agree to his leadership, and RAD is his domain, so I do it for him.” Satan shrugs. “They don’t take up too much time for an immortal anyways.”

“That’s… so different from Heaven. I get maybe five hours to myself a day?” MC can’t even give an accurate number. Keeping track just makes it worse. “It’s all preselected work, too. We have no choice it what domains we’re put under.”

“No choice at all?”

“Supposedly it’s from the Divine plan,” MC rolls their eyes. “But I’m unsure of it.”

“No plan is ever perfect, let alone one made from one mind alone.” Even as Satan says this, he is prepared for a fight. His few conversations with angel’s before him had always ended in one. Angels devoted their existences to this divine plan. Critiquing it was a critique of everything they stood for. Instead, MC just nods. Their eyes overwhelmed in sadness. So Satan takes a deep breath and refocuses on the world around them.

“It is amazing what humans are able to turn rocks into,” Satan looks at the old stone statue with amazement.

“I’ve tried to do it before, and I can never manage.” MC tapped their chin as they reminisced. “They can make rock smooth, as if they were just pinching clay.”

“I can’t even work clay well.” Satan chuckles. Then there is silence as MC’s mind wanders down a bunny trail.

“Earlier they said that I would be attending school, is that true?” Satan nods. “Weird,” MC begins to laugh.

“Why do you laugh? I will also be attending.” Satan says this even though he finds the whole school situation fairly fun himself. Still remembers the dinner when Lucifer broke the news that joining RAD also meant having to go through university again. They had completed their courses millennia ago. Satan was honestly a little excited. Brushing up his skills wouldn’t be the worst time. Though, all the other students sounded rather stressful.

“It will be curious. I didn’t expect to be introduced to Hell this way. It’s just… Okay, you’ll understand if I tell you how I imagine this, Exchange, would go in the Celestial realm.” Satan nods and leans back. Ready to listen. “Greeted with trumpets, obviously.” Satan rolls his eyes. “Then a personal conversation with It.” This makes Satan chuckle. “Then guided around the Celestial realm to all its numerous wonders. Shown the polished paradise where you can indulge in Nearly anything.” MC lifts a finger up with a crooked grin. “Though, you Can’t be a sinner, so you must be nice to Everyone you meet. No matter how annoying. If an Issue arises, you have to bring it up at court, and have it processed. It’s worse for angels, but guests wouldn’t see that. It would take months to see the court bit anyway. It would all be Sickly sweet.”

“And here you met a busy prince, told you had to go to school, and left to get eaten.” Satan keeps his head forward, but glances to see the angel’s reaction.

“I’m enjoying it a lot.” MC smiles.

“Not worried about your safety?”

“Not Much,” MC Shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll be totally helpless,” Then MC looks to Satan’s face. Which seems to loudly be saying ‘okay, tell yourself that sweetheart’. “Do you think I should worry?”

“I think it was wise that you asked for a guide,”

“Me to,” MC smiled, “I like your company.” MC pulls the hand they have clasped with Satan’s closer. For a moment, holding Satan against them. Letting their wing brush against his back. Then MC eases back. Failing to hide a blush that ran across their face. “ Just don’t imagine me helpless.”

“I could never.” Satan smiles softly. “I am the Avatar of wrath after all, and as I can tell.” He looks down at his open hand. Pretending to hold a board. “You have indulged in my sin at least six times.” A humorously low number for Satan. The average human indulged in it at least 50 times by their first birthday. That’s for a remarkably well tempered child, too.

“That high?” MC winces, but then straightens their spines. Remember Why that had indulged, and feeling proud of that choice.

“That is very low, and I think it would be good for your health to indulge in it a little more.”

“Is this how you became friends with Alexander?”

“It’s how I became much more than friends, Dear.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. Looking utterly too proud of himself. MC grimace only deepened as they felt their face heat up. They are saved by an alert on Satan’s D.D.D. “I am afraid I have dinner soon. Your human roommate will be at purgatory hall for dinner, though. I can walk you back if you like?” Satan looks rather annoyed at his phone, but his face relaxes as he looks at MC.

“That would be nice,” MC smiles and can feel the heat once again rise in their face and chest. “What on your D.D.D made you so upset?”

“Oh, you could see that?” Satan looks rather apologetic.

“Clear as day, man,” MC has to try and not laugh.

“The message came from Lucifer,” Again he says the name with such disgust. MC wants to giggle. “He was reminded I must come to dinner and meet the new human.”

“The face you just made,” MC has to put a hand over their mouth. Thankfully, they were almost out of the museum. But on the way on they got a couple glares from the Serious Observers. “What about this new human is so upsetting?”

“Oh it’s not them,” Satan grimaces, but then straightens his spine.

“Then what is it?”

“The process of picking was idiotic. It took four years for them to finally decided on what three humans to pick. The last one was completely random, it turns out.” Satan takes a deep breath. “I left the project after the first human was picked.”

“Who are they?”

“Solomon.” Satan says with a grimace. Left is a gentle way of putting what Satan did when Solomon was picked. The table was thrown through the wall and Satan marched out through the hole.

“Who?”

“You don’t know? Oh, right… Angel wouldn’t hear about him, I guess.” Satan chews on his lip for a second. “He is an ancient king who managed to get pacts with 72 demons, and accidentally became immortal.” Satan’s has a great number of suspicions about Solomon. There are barely any humans who have One pact with a demon. Yet this human managed to get 72, and immortality. While also maintaining a beloved relationship with a great number of people. To Satan, this reeked of evil in hiding. “He’s also a super powerful wizard and has gone through the university magic program so many times he rewrote a portion of it.”

“So that’s who they picked to show off the magical prowess, huh?”

“It doesn’t even work,” Satan groans. Satan had sat through hours of meetings debating which humans to brings, and how their presence would affect the experience for Other humans in the trip. They fisted wanted a human who had some understanding of the magical to be a grounding force for the other two. Satan had many suggestions of Other magicians who could do a job. Magicians who did have 72 pacts with demons. One of whom being his younger Sibling. “We should have picked a human who could actually use the program. He was a powerful magician before coming to our school. He used it to have fun and meet people.“

“So he’s open to fun?” MC bounces slightly as they walk.

“He can be… but he’s often looking out for himself first.” Since Satan so clearly distrusts Solomon. MC chooses to ignore this, and instead is excited to meet this weird wizard.

“Ah, prioritizing ones own needs. The gift of the ego… that we all have.” MC smirks. Feeling that MC was poking fun at Satan. He bristled and turned a lovely read.

“It’s not just ego,” Satan huffs. “How could he make so many pacts without being devious?”

“I don’t know,” MC shrugs. “Have you asked him?”

“No,” Satan looks aghast. “He’s a cunning being, I can’t just ask him.”

“I’ve heard cunning humans can be the most fun,” MC is now starting to walk back to campus with a little more speed.

“Who would say that?” Satan looks bewildered at the little angel.

“Simeon,” MC says, unbothered by Satan’s judgement.

“He enjoys Lucifer’s company, I would not blindly trust Simeon’s taste.” Satan’s lip curls upward when he mentions Lucifer. MC thought on the matter. Simeon had given Lucifer a hug. When it was rather clear that Lucifer was Not a hugger.

“Do you know if Simeon and Lucifer know each other? I’ve never heard Simeon talk about him, but it’s also frowned upon to talk about him in general.”

“I wouldn’t know, but Lucifer did spend the most time in heaven out of all of us,”

“Ah, who’s Us?”

“Oh my brothers,” Satan sighs, “They might know if Simeon and Lucifer have a history, but I won’t be asking for you.”

“That’s fair,” MC nods.

“Do they not talk about the revolution in the celestial realm?”

“Only brief mention. He doesn’t like it being brought up so… most just avoid the topic. I really don’t know much about it.”

“Hmm,” Satan frowns. He didn’t want to strike Lucifer’s ego, but what he did is important history. “I might have some history books you could borrow if you’d like.” It was strange being confronted with the Angel’s reality. Satan couldn’t imagine a life without living in the shadow of that revolution. His exists was born from its grief and agony, and this Angel knew of it only in passing. Did that mean they didn’t know his history at all?

“Oh, that would be nice, but” The Angel blushes and closes their eyes.” I’m not the best of readers. My eyes get distracted?”

“I have heard of conditions similar to that,” Satan nods, “Well the topic is a heavy one, but if you wanted I could explain our side of the history some time.” They were now walking down the path to Purgatory hall. Satan felt is stomach dip at the thought of leaving. Next would be a dinner of more polite conversation. With the chance, he’d be living with two new assholes now. “If you wanted I could put my contact in your D.D.D. That way we can schedule, and If you need a guide again-” His words faltered as the blush becomes too hot.

“I would like that very much.” MC Smiles and hands over their D.D.D.

“Oh-” Satan just finished it with a smile, and then takes the D.D.D. With thin fingers he types it all in. “I do have a schedule, so I can’t be your guide always but,” Satan looks into the Angel’s eyes, and feels his heart get stuck in his throat. “Don’t be afraid to ask.”

“I definitely won’t,” MC says, even though their heart was starting to race. MC stumbled as they hit the first steps up into Purgatory hall. “Thank you for taking me around.” MC’s wings flutter slightly, trying to dispel anxiety. “It was really nice getting to know you.”

“It was truly a pleasure,” Satan smiles, and then bows low to the Angel. As he rises, he keeps his eyes steady with MC’s gaze. There is a heartbeat where they are both caught staring at each other. Satan should be going home now, and the Angel should be heading inside. Instead, they both linger. Feeling their hearts surging in their chests, and wondering what they can possibly do about it. “I hope you enjoy your dinner,” Satan regrets the words instantly, but his feet are already moving to walk away.

“You to!” The Angel blurts, feeling horribly awkward, but also thrilled. The nerves of wanting to make a good impression. As they watched the elegant blond walk away. MC could still feel excitement brewing within them.

The feeling lingered as MC walked into the main doors of Purgatory Hall. Already they could feel that something was different within the building. A new presence shifted the home's energy. The air now had the smell of a laboratory. MC wandered down the hall till they reached the kitchen. Which is where they found Simeon, Luke, and a stranger gathered around the Oven. The Stranger was tall with bright white hair. The light in his eyes was unmistakably human, but something was off.

“Are you certain it’s supposed to look like that?” Simeon squinted at the Oven.

“I have never done this before,” The Strange says easily, but both Simeon and Luke look utterly terrified.

“What’s going on?” MC asks as they walk behind Luke to get a view of what’s going on. “Why is it...cracked?”

“I believe that’s a part of the baking process,” The stranger smiles warmly and then extend a hand to MC. “My name’s Solomon, I am the human exchange student who will be living with you three.”

“I’m MC,” They take Solomon’s hand. His hand is surprisingly dense and cold. Heavier than the Angel had expected. “I thought there were three humans?”

“Indeed, but the other humans get to live with the brothers.” Solomon sighs. “I still don’t understand why they get to be close to the princes of Hell and not me.” Solomon actually did have a guess why, but he wanted to pout about it.

“Do you want to hear Lucifer and Mammon fighting with each other all the time?” Simeon chuckles.

“That’s a fair point,” Solomon nods. “Not to seem like I’m complaining about being with you three,” MC hadn’t even considered that Solomon might not be happy to be staying with three angels. Now though they had to think about it. A man with 72 pacts with demons might not have the most favorable opinion of angels. MC couldn’t exactly blame him for this, but hoped it wouldn’t get in their way.

“I think our company is much better than those demons,” Luke tilts up his chin given everyone a good look of his nostrils.

“Not better,” Simeon tuts, “we our own kind of fun, and will still have plenty of time with the brothers if we choose.”

“You like them?” Solomon eyes Simeon.

“Yes,” Simeon smiles genuinely. “I am really happy to see them again.” Solomon nods, and then smiles himself.

“Me too,”

#wip #angel!mc #obey me #obey me satan #my writing

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nagitoandkokichioneshots · 3 years

Text

Wedding Night

The date was August 21st. The time was around 7:30 pm. The sunset was slowing peaking out from the mountains that surrounded the banquet hall me and my loved ones were currently in. And my dress was....

Well, my dress was currently being zipped up by my maid of honor

Tonight was my wedding night with the love of my life, Nagito Komaeda. We've been together for about six years and engaged for a near two years. We've graduated college just earlier in the spring and the two of us will finally be joining in holy matrimony at the aisle. I felt the zipper being tugged all the way to my shoulder blades by my maid of honor and best friend, Sonia Nevermind. I turned back, smiling at the soft fabric hugging my skin

"You think he'll like it, Sonia?" I asked the blond, my nervous interior breaking out on my face. She gave me a reassuring smile, nodding

"Don't worry, (Y/N). Believe me when I tell you Nagito is still head over heels in love with you, even after all this time. It's been six years and he can still go on about you for ages," She let out a small chuckle, making me feel a lot more at ease. Normal couples usually move on from the 'honeymoon phase' after the first few weeks of dating, but me and Nagito were not a 'normal' couple. We were stuck in a never-ending honeymoon cycle to put it more precisely. But we would never change our lovey-dovey, sappy ways for anyone

As Sonia clipped my veil under my tiara, I heard the door click, revealing Mikan wearing a (F/C) bridesmaid dress, identical to Sonia's. Her dark purple hair was in a high ponytail. I was surprised how she got her hair to look natural in an updo, despite some strands being different lengths

"Umm....(Y/N)? It's time," She flashed her usual meek smile at me, making my cheeks blush. I turned to Sonia, who gave the same smile she showed my earlier. She linked my elbow with hers, taking me out of the dressing room, to the main hall

**********************************************************************************************

As I linked elbows with Hajime, he walked me to the golden colored banquet hall, leading me down the white carpet with red rose petals scattered all over it. My smile never left my face as we walked down the aisle together, every step leading me closer to Nagito. He wore a white tuxedo with a gold tie and red rose pinned to his right breast pocket. I have no idea how Hajime and Kazuichi managed to tame his marshmallow locks back in a neat low bun, but it was working for him

"Thank you for walking me down the aisle, Hajime. It means a lot since my father couldn't be here," I sighed, whispering a thanks to my closest guy friend. Hajime gave me a sad smile, knowing that my father was on active duty overseas, but also knew that if he could, he would definitely be here with me

"It's no problem at all, (Y/N). You look stunning. Take good care of this one," He nodded his head lightly towards Nagito before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, taking his place with the other groomsmen near Nagito. I took a few steps up the stage so I was directly under the silver arch that shined an elegant lighting over me and my future husband. Nagito's facial expression was enough to tell me what he was thinking

Just like that adorably loner back in high school.....he was in love

"You look like the angel of hope...." He muttered under his breath, taking in every single inch of my body adorned in white fabric, diamonds, and silver jewels. I blushed, looking down, only to feel his fingers lift my chin up, making my (E/C) orbs met his green ones

"Don't you look down, (Y/N). Otherwise, how am I going to kiss my angel?" He chuckled lightly, making me blush an even deeper red. We stared into each others' eyes a bit longer, time standing still, as if we were the only two people in the world. It was perfect

Until.....

"HEY! ARE YOU FREAKS GONNA GET THIS WEDDING STARTED OR WHAT?!"

Hiyoko shouted at us from the middle row of the left side. Mahiru shushed her, giving us an apologetic smile, making sure that the short blond didn't act out of line on our special night

"Remind me why we invited Hiyoko again?" Nagito asked me softly, making me flash him an apologetic smile of my own

"She's....sorta, kinda apart of my friend group....I guess. Hey, she hangs with Ibuki, Mahiru, and sometimes Mikan, that has to count for something" I shrugged, making him shake his head, but let out one last soft giggle before the priest cleared his voice, opening his bible between us

"Dear beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony......"

*Twenty minutes later*

"Nagito Komaeda. Do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

Nagito didn't hesitate for a millisecond as he nodded, keeping his signature calm smile on his pale face

"I do,"

"(Y/N) (L/N). Do you this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do,"

"We will now begin the exchange of the rings. First, the man will place the ring on the woman's finger and repeat after me," He nodded towards Nagito as he pulled out a white gold halo ring with a princess cut diamond. He gently took my hand, slipping it on, hearing what the priest was saying to him. He didn't let go of my left hand as he put the ring on, but rather, took my right one too, squeezing them softly

"I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love. I, Nagito Komaeda, take you, (Y/N) (L/N), to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part," He vowed. After Nagito was done, I did the same, slipping on a white gold wedding band on his left finger, hearing the priest repeat the same dialogue to me, only switch the place of mine and Nagito's names

"I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love. I, (Y/N) (L/N), take you, Nagito Komaeda, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part," I told him with every ounce of my heart, earning a few awes from the crowd

"By virtue of the authority vested in me under the laws of Tokyo, Japan, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," The priest closed his book, taking a step back allowing Nagito to pull me close to smash his lips onto mine. Which is exactly what happened before I could even process the whole thought in my head. Before I knew it, I felt a pair of soft lips meet me glossy red ones

It was absolutely romantic and perfect. Nagito usually loves to take his time with our kisses, only giving me the best and heartfelt experience that he claims I deserve. Yet this one was different--we were married now. This kiss sealed the next chapter of our lives. And from the immense amount of passion he put in...I can see a hopeful future for us

Nagito pulled away, a bit of cheekiness in his usual smile. "I put on the chapstick like you wanted," He chuckled, making me smirk

"I thought there was something different," I mischievously teased him, but it was cut short by a cheerful voice in front of us

"Hey! Hey! You guys stand still, so I can take some pictures!" Mahiru smiled, kneeling down to get the best angle. "Come on, the happy couple, show me those smiles!" She encouraged, focusing her camera. Me and Nagito both blushed, as we posed with each other, allowing the Ultimate photographer take our wedding pictures

**********************************************************************************************

After we took our wedding pics, Nagito carried me to the dining hall where we had our dinner. We were greeted by many congratulations and applauses as our loved ones cheered for us, allowing us some room, as we were the guests of honor. After dinner was over, Sonia popped some champagne, pouring herself, us, and Hajime a glass. After a long sip from her glass, she took a microphone, turning it on

"Good evening everyone! Thank you all for coming to the wedding of Nagito and (Y/N) Komaeda," She cheered, making everyone clap. My blond best friend turned to me, flashing me a smirk, knowing the words "(Y/N) Komaeda" would make my heart beat out of the control for the first few weeks of my new name. It was hard to believe Sonia was so naive and didn't fully understand foreign idioms and teasing. Well, it has been almost a decade since she settled down in Japan

"Now, it is honor the maid of honor and best man share speeches about the bride and groom. Please, if you allow me, I have a few words I would love to say about (Y/N)," She calmly stated in the microphone. She cleared her voice before she started her speech, everyone word clear and making my blush deepen into a dark red

"(Y/N) was the first friend I've made here when I moved to Japan. I honestly had no idea what was going to happen when I first attended Hope Peak's academy. I'm not denying that I've had great friends that stuck by my side and treated me well. They didn't see me as Princess Sonia Nevermind, but as Sonia Nevermind, the seventeen year old high school girl. I was so afraid to come out of my shell fully, despite everyone welcoming me with open arms. However, (Y/N) was the one to inspire me to be myself. She was the one who showed me not to be embarrassed about my origins or weird ways of thinking. I've confided in her more than anyone. She was my shoulder to lean on, my problems became hers, and her advice is what shaped me to be who I am today. In fact, without her, I probably wouldn't even be here in Japan still. It's all thanks to her that I can confidently call myself a bright young woman who got to where she is now not because of my status, but because of my hard work and determination. Two things I wouldn't have without this beautiful, intelligent, sweet lady that I had the honor to call my best friend," She moved aside, showing me to the party guests. Everyone cheered as Sonia finished her speech, only to fluster my even more, hugging Nagito closer so I could hide in his chest. I heard his laid back laugh, as he stroked my hair softly, whispering in my ear

"Don't be embarrassed, (Y/N). Every word Sonia says is true. You're truly the embodiment of hope for everyone. Especially for me," He assure me, making me pull my face from his chest, but still staying close to him. Mostly because his arm was on my waist and, from his grip, it seemed like he had no intention of letting me go

"And now, we will hear from the best man, Hajime Hinata," Sonia introduced the brunette man to the audience, as she handed him the mic. Hajime was greeted with applause as he tapped the microphone before sharing his speech

"Thank you, Sonia. Now, I would like start to by saying that being Nagito's best man is such an honor. He....we've may have not been the most popular people in school, but I can say with absolute certainty that it was an honor to be his best friend. Nagito was the first person to show me around and introduce me to everyone that I came to know as my classmate during our time in Hope Peaks academy. I can also say that it was during our time in high school that we've grown closer to each other and I've learned that Nagito wasn't that 'lonely weirdo' that everyone thought he was. He was just someone that wanted to be loved. And I trust that (Y/N) was able to give that to him. It was an honor to see my close friend grow as a better person with the love of his life by his side. We've supported each other and came to each other when we needed it the most. And as time went on, I've saw a shimmer of happiness bloom inside Nagito, his hope opening up inside of him. And I would like to believe it is because (Y/N) showed him what it's liked to be loved...along with much more. Thank you everyone...and thank you (Y/N)," Hajime turned to me, a smile plastered on his face "Please keep giving him hope" He nodded, turning off the mic. The crowd erupted in applause again, as the four of us drained our champagne glasses, finishing up our dinner

**********************************************************************************************

(Third person POV)

"I'm so happy for you, Nagito!" Hajime exclaimed to his best friend, clinking his wine glass with Nagito's. The white haired boy smiled, a faint pink blush being painted on his cheeks

"Thank you, Hajime. I just can't believe it. I married the literal angel of hope....I feel like I can do anything with her by my side..." He sighed happily, taking a sip of his red wine

"Do you think you can get Miss. Sonia to marry me, Nagito?" Kazuichi asked him, pointing to her talking to me. Sonia must've heard their conversation as the blond princess winced at his words, moving closer to the bride. Nagito just chuckled, putting his glass down

"I think it really depends if she wants to, Kazuichi," He gently broke his spirit, as the pink haired man just grunted, crossing his arms. Gundham gave him a death glare, as Fuyuhiko tried to ease the tension between them by starting a new conversation

"I still can't believe Nagito out of all of us got married first. Well, I guess if this crazy bastard can get married, there's hope for our asses after all," He smiled lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Nagito's eyes light up, but this time, a mix of hope and despair twisted in them

"Did you say....hope?" He grinned, making all the guys roll their eyes, grimacing

"Seriously--Really?!" They all scolded-asked him, making the white haired man chuckle

"Sorry, sorry. I just....can't believe trash like me got married to a literal angel. She's the ray of hope I needed in my life...my savior...my everything. I love her so much. How can someone as gorgeous, smart, and hopeful as her love someone as worthless as me?" He questioned, his pink blush turning red as he watched the (H/C) haired girl clink her red wine with a group of her closest friends. Nagito was literally snapped out of his gaze, as his best friend snapped his fingers in front his face

"Hey, (Y/N) wouldn't like you talking about yourself like that. But I think now is the best time to stop gushing about her to us and go get your...hope," He gave Nagito a smile, nodding towards (Y/N)

"Ah, you're right, Hajime. I'll see you guys later," He excused himself from the groomsmen, going over to the group of girls. He saw his new wife talking to Peko, and waved in her direction

"(Y/N)!" He hollered, making his way towards her. The ultimate swords-woman put her glass down, not wanting to get in the way of the newly wedded couple

"I think I'll go and find young master. Congratulations again, (Y/N)," She told the bride one last time before going off in the opposite direction. Nagito took both hands of his angel, pulling her close to him

"I think it's time we have that first dance, don't you think so, my stunning hope?" He asked, making her nod

"I think you're right, marshmallow. Come," She gestured for him to follow her, as the made their way to the dance floor. Classical music filled the room, as the bride wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, his hands making his way towards her waist. They held each other close as they started to slow dance, gazing into each other's eyes

"I'm so glad you didn't let Ibuki play for our wedding and just hired a DJ. She can get a bit...eccentric with her music," He chuckled softly, making (Y/N) let out one of her own

"Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of my 19th birthday," The happy couple both slightly shuddered at the temporary loss of hearing all their friends and them included had when the ultimate musician played for (Y/N) during one of my birthday parties. Nagito nuzzled his nose with hers, before kissing her once again, whispering one more thing that made her blush

"This is hope, huh? Geez, how did I get so lucky?" He asked himself softly, dancing the night away with his ray of hope, looking forward to a hope filled future with his angel

(Bonus/Epilogue)

"Time for the bouquet toss!" (Y/N) cheered, brandishing her bouquet of red and white roses in her hand. All the females crowded behind her, already ready to brawl over the bundle of flowers. The (H/C) turned away, closing her eyes before throwing the flowers behind her. All of a sudden, the group of girls fought like wild animals, kicking and pulling each other's hair for the bouquet

"...........Maybe we shouldn't have included that, angel. I heard it was a bit played out too," Nagito winced, seeing Hiyoko kick Mikan in her crotch area

"I thought my bear crashed the wedding, but this.....how low can these mortals go for a small collection of earth floral? It's not like it's the lost jewel of the underworld," Gundham stated, watching the fight unfold with his arms crossed

"Wow! Who knew Miss Sonia could double leg takedown someone so hard?!" Kazuichi flashed a lovestruck smile, as Sonia smashed Mahiru to the floor by both her legs

"Peko! Go for the stomach! No, lower! Dammit!" Fuyuhiko yelled at the woman who was like an older sister to him, watching her use her bamboo sword on Akane

"AKANE! YOU GOT THIS! YOU MAY NOT HAVE A SWORD, BUT YOU HAVE DETERMINATION AND STRONG WILLPOWER! SHOW SOME SPIRIT!!!!!!" Nekomaru screamed, rooting for Akane during the fight between her and Peko

Hajime was the only man that remained silent as he was drinking the last of the orange juice at his table, trying to focus on reading a book on his phone. The fight went on for what seemed like a century only to end in....

"H-Huh?!"

Chiaki, who was fast asleep at her table and the only one not fighting over the bouquet, felt the flowers land on her lap. She rubbed her eyes, and picked up the bouquet in her hands. Smiling softly, she got up and walked over to Hajime

"Hajime. Look what I got," She showed him the flowers, making her boyfriend gasp, looking up from his phone

"Chiaki, I...." He grinned, taking it. "T-Thank you. I promise....maybe one day in the near future..." He turned to Nagito and (Y/N) "Don't take off those wedding decorations yet. We may have another couple using this place soon," He chuckled, making everyone (except Sonia, Mikan, and Hiyoko who were crying over losing the bouquet) cheer

Yep, this was definitely a night to remember

#nagito x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito komeada kin #nagito headcanons #nagito oneshots #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa x y/n #danganronpa #danganronpa goodbye despair #goodbye despair

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likeabxrdinflight · 3 years

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"There were probably little girls all over the Fire Nation who worshipped their warrior princess." Yes more about this, please! Also, how do you think Azula would navigate her mental health issues with being a public figure, especially given the direct link between her public image and her compulsion to be "perfect"? Also, just to mess with you some more, how would her queerness impact this?

Yeah! I think the Fire Nation is interesting with the royal family, because it’s weird to me that Chan and his group of friends didn’t recognize Zuko and Azula. Either teenagers were just totally checked out of the war and Did Not Care, or Zuko and Azula’s faces weren’t as well known as their existence. But I can imagine that after Azula conquered Ba Sing Se, her deeds were widely celebrated throughout the Fire Nation. Taking control of the enemy capital? That’s a huge deal. That functionally won the war for the Fire Nation, using Sozin’s Comet to wipe out the rest of the Earth Kingdom army was essentially the equivalent of the US using nuclear weapons on Japan. The war was already over, it was just a matter of how quickly was it going to take for surrender. We know the Fire Nation was in the wrong, but little Fire Nation girls? They don’t. And they’re in their schools or with their families learning about their princess infiltrated and conquered the enemy’s capital city, put herself on the front lines, killed the last great enemy to the Fire Nation, and did it all while shedding no Fire Nation blood? If you’re a kid in a culture where war is celebrated, honor, patriotism, and duty are virtues, and women are less visible in positions of such power than men?

Azula must have seemed like such an amazing, inspiring person. I can imagine some little six-year-old hearing about the incredible deeds of the warrior princess and thinking “wow, I want to be just like her when I grow up!” I can imagine Princess Azula dolls being sold to the richer girls to play with, and children in school being taught about what their beautiful, brave princess did for their nation. They’d be told how they should all strive to be as loyal to their nation and as fierce in all they do as she is. We already know, from The Headband, that the Fire Nation practically worship Ozai. It follows that Azula would be held up in a similar regard.

There is also something uniquely special about a princess willing to stand in front of her soldiers and fight. Not every commanding officer will do that, certainly not royalty. She’s a direct line to the throne- it’s dangerous to put herself directly in the line of fire like that. But she does it anyway. We the audience know that she’s incredibly capable and a dangerous opponent on the battlefield, but to the Fire Nation people? That’s true leadership. It must look downright heroic, damn near sacrificial. “Look at the Princess, risking her life for our Nation!” It would be celebrated for sure.

But obviously, there’s a lot more under the surface. Secrecy, secrecy, secrecy, that’s how perfectionism survives. Hiding flaws, hiding things we’re ashamed of, hiding any and all perceived failings, because to let them be known is to reveal imperfection.

After the war, it’s probably best for Azula to remain out of the spotlight while she’s still healing. I doubt she would want people seeing her in any kind of compromised state, for one thing. She wouldn’t want her image tarnished or for the people to think of her as “mad.” And the pressure of being in the public eye would not be constructive for her healing, given that perfectionistic tendency. So I suspect she would want to hide her mental health and continue to look like the perfect princess. Perhaps later in life, though, she could use her position to cause real change to mental health care in the Fire Nation. She might be more okay with talking about it after the recovery process, and could be an invaluable asset to reform.

Same thing with queerness, really. At first I think her instinct would be to hide it, that being gay would be seen as a blemish on her otherwise perfect demeanor. Perfect princesses can’t be gay. She’d have a lot of denial to work through on that front, I think. And coming out probably can’t happen until after the bulk of her recovery, because there’s no room to explore sexuality when you’re struggling with the aftermath of trauma like that. Once she does realize, though, I suspect her instinct is to keep it to herself for a long time. The instinct is to hide, to protect herself, and it’s an instinct born out of trauma, but also...it’s an adaptive one, potentially.

If we assume the LOK comics to be canon, they elaborate that Sozin outlawed homosexuality, so there is likely a whole generation or two that views queerness as being wrong. Out hear in the real world, I know damn well what it means to hide one’s sexual orientation in order to survive, and I suspect Azula would do the same for a long time, even after Sozin’s laws were overturned. Coming out requires a certain degree of security that doesn’t have yet.

If she publicly comes out, she could do a lot for queer people in the ATLA universe, just by virtue of existing and being who she is. But she needs to be in a much healthier headspace to do that.

#atla #eshusplayground

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mjvnivsbrvtvs · 3 years

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hi! so we have established at this point that you have A Lot Of thoughts about antony and brutus. but how does caesar (julius, not the little bitch octavian) play into that? bc like. my knowledge and impression of them is very limited and mainly constructed from watching hbo rome and idk. i think it'd be fun to throw caesar in the mix. love all the art and writing on your blog btw! have a nice day.

Hey, okay! So this used to be over 30 pages long (Machiavelli and Caligula got involved and that's when things got out of hand), but through the power of friendship and two late night writing dates fueled by coffee, I’ve cut it way down to under 10. Many thanks to the people who listened to me ramble about it at length, and also to a dear friend for helping me cut this down to under ten pages!

Also, thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the stuff I make! It makes me very happy to hear that!

And quickly, a Disclaimer: I’m not an academic, I’m not a classicist, I’m not a historian, and I spend a lot of time very stressed out that I’ve tricked people into thinking I’m someone who has any kind of merit in this area. It's probably best to treat this as an abstract character analysis!

On the other hand, I love talking about dead men, so, with enthusiasm, here we go!

For this, I’m going to cut Shakespeare and HBO Rome out of the framework and focus more on a historical spin.

Caesar is a combination of a manipulator and a catalyst. A Bad Omen. The remaining wound that’s poisoning Rome.

Cassius gets a lot of the blame for Brutus’ turn to assassination, but it overlooks that Brutus was already inclined towards political ambition, as were most men involved in the political landscape of the time.

Furthermore, although Sulla had actually raised the number of praetorships available from six to eight, there were still only two consulships available. There was always the chance that death or disgrace might remove some of the competition and hence ease the bottleneck. But, otherwise, it was at the top of the ladder that the competition was particularly fierce: whereas in previous years one in three praetors would have gone on to become consul, from the 80s BC onwards the chances were one in four. For the senators who had made it this far, it mattered that they should try to achieve their consulship in the earliest year allowed to them by law. To fail in this goal once was humiliating; to fail at the polls twice would be deemed a signal disgrace for a man like Brutus.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

The way Caesar offered Brutus political power the way that he did, and Brutus accepting it, locked them into the assassination outcome.

Here is a man who’s built his entire image around honor and liberty and virtu, around being a staunch defender of morals and the republic

In these heated circumstances, Brutus composed a bitter tract On the Dictatorship of Pompey (De Dictatura Pompei), in which he staunchly opposed the idea of giving Pompey such a position of power. ‘It is better to rule no one than to be another man’s slave’, runs one of the only snippets of this composition to survive today: ‘for one can live honourably without power’, Brutus explained, ‘but to live as a slave is impossible’. In other words, Brutus believed it would be better for the Senate to have no imperial power at all than to have imperium and be subject to Pompey’s whim.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

and you give him political advancement, but without the honor needed for this advancement to mean anything?

At the same time, however, Brutus had gained his position via extremely un-republican means: appointment by a dictator rather than election by the people. As the name of the famous career path, the cursus honorum, suggests, political office was perceived as an honour at Rome. But it was one which had to be bestowed by the populus Romanus in recognition of a man’s dignitas.69 In other words, a man’s ‘worth’ or ‘standing’ was only really demonstrated by his prior services to the state and his moral qualities, and that was what was needed to gain public recognition. Brutus had got it wrong. As Cicero not too subtly reminded him in the treatise he dedicated to Brutus: ‘Honour is the reward for virtue in the considered opinion of the citizenry.’ But the man who gains power (imperium) by some other circumstance, or even against the will of the people, he continues, ‘has laid his hands only on the title of honour, but it is not real honour’.70

Brutus may have secured political office, then, but he had not done so honourably; nor had he acted in a manner that would earn him a reputation for virtue or everlasting fame.

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

Brutus in the image that he fashioned for himself was not compatible with the way Caesar was setting him up to be a political successor, and there was really never going to be any other outcome than the one that happened.

The Brutus of Shakespeare and Plutarch’s greatest tragedy was that he was pushed into something he wouldn’t have done otherwise. The Brutus of history’s greatest tragedy was accepting Caesar’s forgiveness after the Caesar-Pompey conflict, and then selling out for political ambition, because Caesar's forgiveness is not benevolent.

Rather than have his enemies killed, he offered them mercy or clemency -- clementia in Latin. As Caesar wrote to his advisors, “Let this be our new method of conquering -- to fortify ourselves by mercy and generosity.” Caesar pardoned most of his enemies and forbore confiscating their property. He even promoted some of them to high public office.

This policy won him praise from no less a figure than Marcus Tullius Cicero, who described him in a letter to Aulus Caecina as “mild and merciful by nature.” But Caecina knew a thing or two about dictators, since he’d had to publish a flattering book about Caesar in order to win his pardon after having opposed him in the civil war. Caecina and other beneficiaries of Caesar’s unusual clemency took it in a far more ambivalent way. To begin with, most of them were, like Caesar, Roman nobles. Theirs was a culture of honor and status; asking a peer for a pardon was a serious humiliation. So Caesar’s “very power of granting favors weighed heavily on free people,” as Florus, a historian and panegyrist of Rome, wrote about two centuries after the dictator’s death. One prominent noble, in fact, ostentatiously refused Caesar’s clemency. Marcius Porcius Cato, also known as Cato the Younger, was a determined opponent of populist politics and Caesar’s most bitter foe. They had clashed years earlier over Caesar’s desire to show mercy to the Catiline conspirators; Cato argued vigorously for capital punishment and convinced the Senate to execute them. Now he preferred death to Caesar’s pardon. “I am unwilling to be under obligations to the tyrant for his illegal acts,” Cato said; he told his son, "I, who have been brought up in freedom, with the right of free speech, cannot in my old age change and learn slavery instead.

-Barry Strauss, Caesar and the Dangers of Forgiveness

something else that's a fun adjacent to the topic that's fun to think about:

The link between ‘sparing’ and ‘handing over’ is common in the ancient world.763 Paul also uses παραδίδωμι again, denoting ‘hand over, give up a person’ (Bauer et al. 2000:762).764 The verb παραδίδωμι especially occurs in connection with war (Eschner 2010b:197; Gaventa 2011:272).765 However, in Romans 8:32, Paul uses παραδίδωμι to focus on a court image (Eschner 2010b:201).766 Christina Eschner (2010b:197) convincingly argues that Paul’s use of παραδίδωμι refers to the ‘Hingabeformulierungen’ as the combination of the personal object of the handing over of a person in the violence of another person, especially the handing over of a person to an enemy.767 Moreover, Eschner (2009:676) convincingly argues that Isaiah 53 is not the pre-tradition for Romans 8:32.

Annette Potgieter, Contested Body: Metaphors of dominion in Romans 5-8

Along with the internal conflict of Pompey, the murderer of Brutus’ father, and Caesar, the figurehead for everything that goes against what Brutus stands for, Brutus accepting Caesar’s forgiveness isn’t an act of benevolence, regardless of Caesar’s intentions.

On wards, Caesar owns Brutus. Caesar benefits from having Brutus as his own, he inherits Brutus’ reputation, he inherits a better PR image in the eyes of the Roman people. On wards, nothing Brutus does is without the ugly stain of Caesar. His career is no longer his own, his life is no longer fully his own, his legacy is no longer entirely his. Brutus becomes a man divided.

And it’s not like it was an internal struggle, it was an entire spectacle. Hypocrisy is theatrical. Call yourself a man of honor and then you sell out? The people of Rome will remember that, and they’re going to make sure you know it.

After this certain men at the elections proposed for consuls the tribunes previously mentioned, and they not only privately approached Marcus Brutus and such other persons as were proud-spirited and attempted to persuade them, but also tried to incite them to action publicly. 12 1 Making the most of his having the same name as the great Brutus who overthrew the Tarquins, they scattered broadcast many pamphlets, declaring that he was not truly that man's descendant; for the older Brutus had put to death both his sons, the only ones he had, when they were mere lads, and left no offspring whatever. 2 Nevertheless, the majority pretended to accept such a relationship, in order that Brutus, as a kinsman of that famous man, might be induced to perform deeds as great. They kept continually calling upon him, shouting out "Brutus, Brutus!" and adding further "We need a Brutus." 3 Finally on the statue of the early Brutus they wrote "Would that thou wert living!" and upon the tribunal of the living Brutus (for he was praetor at the time and this is the name given to the seat on which the praetor sits in judgment) "Brutus, thou sleepest," and "Thou art not Brutus."

Cassius Dio

Brutus knew. Cassius knew. Caesar knew. You can’t escape your legacy when you’re the one who stamped it on coins.

Caesar turned Brutus into the dagger that would cut, and Brutus himself isn’t free from this injury. It’s a mutual betrayal, a mutual dooming.

By this time Caesar found himself being attacked from every side, and as he glanced around to see if he could force a way through his attackers, he saw Brutus closing in upon him with his dagger drawn. At this he let go of Casca’s hand which he had seized, muffled up his head in his robe, and yielded up his body to his murderers’ blows. Then the conspirators flung themselves upon him with such a frenzy of violence, as they hacked away with their daggers, that they even wounded one another. Brutus received a stab in the hand as he tried to play his part in the slaughter, and every one of them was drenched in blood.

Plutarch

For Antony, Caesar is a bad sign.

Brutus and Antony are fucked over by the generation they were born in, etc etc the cannibalization of Rome on itself, the Third Servile War was the match to the gasoline already on the streets of Rome, the last generation of Romans etc etc etc. They are counterparts to each other, displaced representatives of a time already gone by the time they were alive.

Rome spends its years in a state of civil war after civil war, political upheaval, and death. Neither Brutus or Antony will ever really know stability, as instability is hallmark of the times. Both of them are at something of a disadvantage, although Brutus has what Antony does not, and what Brutus has is what let’s him create his own career. Until Caesar, Brutus is owned by no one.

This is not the case for Antony.

You can track Antony’s life by who he’s attached to. Very rarely is he ever truly a man unto himself, there is always someone nearby.

In his youth, it is said, Antony gave promise of a brilliant future, but then he became a close friend of Curio and this association seems to have fallen like a blight upon his career. Curio was a man who had become wholly enslaved to the demands of pleasure, and in order to make Antony more pliable to his will, he plunged him into a life of drinking bouts, love-affairs, and reckless spending. The consequence was that Antony quickly ran up debts of an enormous size for so young a man, the sum involved being two hundred and fifty talents. Curio provided security for the whole of this amount, but his father heard of it and forbade Antony his house. Antony then attached himself for a short while to Clodius, the most notorious of all the demagogues of his time for his lawlessness and loose-living, and took part in the campaigns of violence which at that time were throwing political affairs at Rome into chaos.

Plutarch

(although, in contrast to Brutus, we rarely lose sight of Antony. As a person, we can see him with a kind of clarity, if one looks a little bit past the Augustan propaganda. He is, at all times, human.)

Antony being figuratively or literally attached to a person starts early, and continues politically. While Brutus has enough privilege to brute force his way into politics despite Cicero’s lamentation of a promising life being thrown off course, Antony will instead follow a different career path that echoes in his personal life and defines his relationships.

Whereas some young men often attached or indebted themselves to a patron or a military leader at the beginning of their political lives,

Kathryn Tempest, Brutus the Noble Conspirator

3. During his stay in Greece he was invited by Gabinius, a man of consular rank, to accompany the Roman force which was about to sail for Syria. Antony declined to join him in a private capacity, but when he was offered the command of the cavalry he agreed to serve in the campaign.

Plutarch

To take it a step further, it even defines how he’s perceived today looking back: it’s never just Antony, it’s always Antony and---

It can be read as someone being taken advantage of, in places, survival in others, especially in Antony's early life. Other times, it appears like Antony himself is the one who manipulates things to his favor, casting aside people and realigning himself back to an advantage.

or when he saw an opportunity for faster advancement, he was willing to place the blame on a convenient scapegoat or to disregard previous loyalties, however important they had been. His desertion of Fulvia's memory in 40, and, much later, of Lepidus, Sextus Pompey, and Octavia, produced significant political gains. This characteristic, which Caesar discovered to his cost in 47, gives the sharp edge to Antony's personality which Syme's portrait lacks, especially when he attributes Antony's actions to a 'sentiment of loyalty' or describes him as a 'frank and chivalrous soldier'. In this context, one wonders what became of Fadia.19

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 47 B.C.

Caesar inherits Antony, and like Brutus, locks him in for a doomed ending.

The way Caesar writes about Antony smacks of someone viewing another person as something more akin to a dog, and it carries over until it’s bitter conclusion.

Caesar benefits from Antony immensely. The people love Antony, the military loves Antony. He’s charming, he’s self aware, he’s good at what he does. Above all of that, he has political ambitions of a similar passion as Brutus.

Antony drew some political benefit from his genial personality. Even Cicero, who from at least 49 did not like him,15 was prepared to regard some of his earlier misdemeanours as harmless.16 Bluff good humour, moderate intelligence, at least a passing interest in literature, and an ability to be the life and soul of a social gathering all contributed to make him a charming companion and to bind many important people to him. He had a lieutenant's ability to follow orders and a willingness to listen to advice, even (one might say especially) from intelligent women.17 These attributes made Antony able to handle some situations very well."1

There was a more important side to his personality, however, which contributed to his political survival. Antony was ruthless in his quest for pre-eminence

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 477 B.C.

None of this matters, because after all Antony does for Caesar

Plutarch's comment that Curio brought Antony into Caesar's camp is surely mistaken.59 Anthony had been serving as Caesar's officer from perhaps as early as 53, after his return from Syria.60 He is described as legatus in late 52,61 and was later well known as Caesar's quaestor.62 It is more likely that the reverse of the statement is true, that Antony assisted in bringing Curio over to Caesar. If this were so, then he performed a signal service for Caesar, for gaining Curio meant attaching Fulvia, who provided direct access to the Clodian clientela in the city. Such valuable political connections served to increase Antony's standing with Caesar, and to set him apart from other officers in his army.63

Kathryn E Welch , Antony, Fulvia, and the Ghost of Clodius in 477 B.C.

Caesar still, for whatever reasons, fucks over Antony spectacularly with the will. Loyalty is repaid with dismissal, and it will bury the Republic for good.

It’s not enough for Caesar to screw him over just once, it becomes generational and ugly. Caesar lives on through Octavian: it becomes Octavian’s brand, his motif, propaganda wielded like a knife. Octavian, thanks to Caesar, will bring Antony to his bitter conclusion

And for my "bitter" conclusion, I’ll sign off by saying that there are actual scholars on Antony who are more well versed than I am who can go into depth about the Caesar-Octavian-Antony dynamic (and how it played out with Caligula) better than I can, and scholarship on Brutus consists mostly of looking at an outline of a man and trying to guess what the inside was like.

At the end of the day, Caesar was the instigator, active manipulator, and catalyst for the final act of the Republic.

I hope that this was at least entertaining to read!

#i cut out A Lot and its thanks to the patience of Friends that i got it down to the length that it is #like i cannot stress enough that i worked machiavelli into this and started dissecting the whole #brutus-cassius conflict with the framework that it was orchestrated by caesar #typically tho i tend to treat caesar as a symbolic device. a representation of something Very Wrong #this is a tag for asks

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bad-bitch-beauchamp · 3 years

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Songs About Me: Chapter Six

Yay! Thanks for your patience while I was away! Without further ado, the first (official) date!

READ ON AO3

Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

“How’d you do that?” Claire was fumbling with her keys, trying to get the lock to work on her black front door while Jamie waited just below on the sidewalk.

“Do what?”

“How did you get here so fast? Because one minute, you said you were leaving your place and the next, you were on my front porch. The way I see it is you’re either Superman or you’re a stalker.”

He chuckled. “Just another twist of fate for us, lass.” Claire turned to face him. He stood for a moment watching her and if it had been any longer, she might’ve started to feel self-conscious from his gaze. He shook his head and looked up at her through long, red lashes. His hand stretched upward and outward toward her, and her soft smile made his heart soar. Claire took a deep breath, took his large hand in hers, and descended the brick stairs toward the night’s adventure.

There were only three things Jamie confirmed with Claire before their date that night: her address, what time he should pick her up, and if she liked Italian food. Claire was never one to turn down a bowl of noodles and, with a glance up at her rather large walking partner, ventured Jamie was never one to say no to carbs. He had declined to tell her exactly where they were to have dinner that night over text, and Claire’s curiosity was kicking in as they strolled through Boston Commons.

‘Ye said ye enjoyed Italian food, so just trust me that ye’ll like where we’re headed.”

“That’s hardly an answer.”

“It’s a good enough answer. Patience isn’t really a virtue of yer’s, is it?”

The pair continued to walk down through the Commons, wandering along pathways and strolling past monuments. Their conversation flowed easily and Claire found herself wondering how she could have only met this man, this kind and funny and compassionate and loving and enthralling man, mere hours before. Claire had grabbed a cashmere wrap before she ran down the stairs in case of chilly fall weather, and was glad for it. She started out her walk with Jamie by holding her wrap around her upper arms, secured by her hands held at her chest. As their walk continued, she caught herself letting go to touch Jamie’s arm, to lead him around a pond by the hand, to swat at him when he made a joke. She was comfortable. Their banter and laughter and talks were natural and easy.

“You have to tell me where we’re going! First, you show up at my home with a very thin explanation, and now you’re leading me through the city with no direction! I happen to think my stalker theory is holding more traction with every moment, Mr. Fraser.”

“Alright, a few things, Sassenach,” he said. Their arms were linked together as they made their way over the intersection of Charles and Beacon streets. “First off, my explanation was solid. It was fate I got to yer place so quickly.” He ushered her across the busy street and onto a smaller side street lined with trees and old facades. “Second, I’m no’ a stalker. If I was, I would have found as soon I could have after last night. Yer all I thought about today. Had I known how to find ye, I would have,” he said. He moved his hand to her lower back as he moved them down the sidewalk. Claire simply smiled down at the ground at his honest admission. “Third,” he slowed their pace, “did ye consider I jes’ wanted to spend a little extra time with ye?” He paused to open the door to the restaurant. A whisper brushed along her ear as she slid past him in the entrance, bushing against his chest. “The time I get doesna seem to be enough.” She turned to face him then. He only smiled softly, urging her forward through the doors.

Jamie pulled out a worn leather chair for her before seating himself across the small square table draped with a crisp white tablecloth and topped with two brass candlestick holders and a myriad of glassware. Claire smirked at the fanciness of it all -- they’d met in a dark bar in the middle of the night and talked over dusty bookshelves and now, she was pretending she belonged in a place like this. When Jamie had asked if she liked Italian, she figured they’d end up at a mom and pop place eating spaghetti and drinking too much wine, not acting on their best behavior at one of the finest restaurants in Beacon Hill.

“Are ye alright, Claire?”

Her head popped up to find Jamie studying her. His head cocked like a puppy who watches something new with a mix of awe and confusion in his eyes. He leaned forward as if to reach for her hand, and drew back.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that, I must’ve zoned out a bit there,” she fibbed. She fidgeted with her napkin on her lap, folding and unfolding it.

“Ye know, I--” Jamie was interrupted by the waiter. He sighed and requested two bottles of wine, a red and a white, and two whiskeys. Claire stifled a giggle at the waiter’s outfit while Jamie was acting the role of adult: the teen wore clean black slacks, a pressed white shirt, a black vest, and a white cloth on his forearm completed the look. The waiter looked at her with confusion.

“Sorry, just thinking about something that happened earlier,” she muttered. The waiter walked away, with a parting glance at Jamie.

“Care tae share what’s so funny, lass?” She expected a look of disdain. The same look Frank would’ve given her, she realized, if she acted this way at a dinner with him. There was never to be any fun, never any giggles, never any banter. She straightened in her chair and attempted to put her feelings about the absurdity of the night behind her.

“Oh, it’s nothing!” Quickly shifting the subject, she moved on. “Did I hear you order four separate alcohol drinks?”

“I wasna sure what ye liked, besides the whisky, so I thought I’d get one of everything to be safe.” It was Jamie’s turn to shift in his seat now. “Shit,” he muttered. “I forgot to ask for ice water.” Motioning back toward the waiter’s station he stopped to add, “Wait, did ye even want ice water? Mebbe ice tea? A coffee? I should’ve asked what ye wanted instead of assuming, Claire, and I’m sorry for it…”

“Jamie. It’s fine.” It was Claire’s turn to reach across the table and take his hand. His eyes moved from the waiter across the room instantly down to their hands. He marveled in the way her fingers intertwined with his, how she traced the bones and knuckles, drawing maps to nowhere in particular. He thumbed over the soft skin of her palms and looked up at her through long lashes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Ye can ask me anything ye want,” he answered quickly.

“What are we doing here?”

That got his attention. His gaze hardened, his spine stiffened. “What do ye mean?” She didn’t immediately answer, so he continued on. “I asked ye here tonight, because I couldn’t stop thinking about ye all night. And then today, to see ye, to be healed by ye… Christ, I couldn’t wait to see ye or talk to ye or to hold yer hand or merely to be near ye again. If ye’d rather not see me after tonight, I understand and I respect yer wishes. If that’s the case though, I think I’d rather ye let me know that now instead of having me sit here knowing I can’t have ye. I have enough alcohol to get me through the night, I think…” A giggle erupted from the opposite side of the small square table.

“You certainly do have enough alcohol, but I’d rather like to enjoy it with you, if you don’t mind.” One hand held his, and the other held her chin in her palm, elbow propped up on the table.

“Ye’d let me see ye again?”

“Without a doubt.”

Tension flowed out of his muscles and his eyes shimmered in the candlelight. “Why’d ye ask what we were doing here then?”

“I just mean that you don’t have to go through so much trouble for us to spend time together. I know we just met but I’d wager that fancy restaurants with wine lists bigger than the menu aren’t your usual hangout. I’m a simple woman who enjoys simple pleasures, Jamie. Please don’t make this anything more than the perfect night it could be if you just relax.”

He studied her. The curls flowing down around her face, curling at her collarbones. The eyes the same color of his favorite whisky sitting in the crystal decanter on the sideboard back home. Her delicate features that reminded him of the stories of the faeries from back home. She wiggled in her seat under his gaze. He sighed. “I just wanted to honor ye, Sassenach. Do ye right,” she smirked at that. “Och, ye know what I mean,” he said and playfully squeezed her hand in his. “I wanted to treat ye the way I think ye should be treated.”

Would he ever cease to stop being so honest and vulnerable? She hoped not. This confession, his honest assessment of her, made her eyes shimmer with a thin line of unshed tears.

“Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I overstepped…”

“You didn’t.” She looked up from her hand in his and marveled at the way she cared for him already, so soon. “Just… thank you, Jamie.”

The waiter reappeared to take their dinner orders and the two were left to talk under their meals arrived. He talked about his favorite book, Song of Myself by Walt Whitman (“Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged. Missing me one place, search another. I stop somewhere waiting for you.” he brought her knuckles to her lips. She shivered. He blushed.) ; she told him about the tropical plant she’d grown from a start for the last five years, the pride and joy radiating from her words and beaming smile (“I couldna ever grow something that took that much work,” “It just takes the right touch,” “Aye, that ye have.”) . The waiter arrived back at their table with plates and bowls galore. Soon, the small tabletop was brimming with large flat bowls of pasta and salad plates layered with leafy greens; all four glasses in front of Claire were full, wine and whisky and water warming her core.

Claire didn’t immediately reach for her food, and Jamie smirked. “Tell me what yer thinkin’ about, right now. Don’t think, just answer!”

“I’m thinking that I don’t know which of these fancy forks to kill myself with.” Silence, then roarous laughter.

“I’m no’ sure what I expected ye to say, but for what it’s worth, I did consider the same the question. This is a hell of a spread!”

Vaguely, Claire thought she should eat a little more food and drink a little less liquids, but the notion rolled passed her with another twirl of whisky in her mouth. Dinner continued to pass with much less fanfare and much more excitement and laughter and banter and all the things Claire thought a date should be. It wasn’t until she went to take another sip of her whisky that she noticed it was entirely empty. About to call for another, Jamie shushed her and brought a finger to his lips to stay quiet. She giggled, then remembering to stay quiet, brought her hands up to cover her mouth. Jamie looked around them conspiratorily and pulled a hip flask from his pocket. He poured a generous amount of what she presumed to be whisky back into her glass, and topped off his own. They continued this way, with mouthfuls of noodles and laugher and soft touches that grew more bold with each sip.

“You know, the drunker you get, the more obvious you’re becoming with your thermos.” The waiter was standing before them, hands on his hips.

“ Thermose? Thermasse? I'm sorry, I don't understand. What's a thermousse?” Jamie was trying his best to put on a serious front, but Claire’s giggles made his mouth spread from a smirk all the way to an honest to God grin.

“That one. Right there in your hand.”

“Oh, the thermas-eh?” Jamie patted the spot where the now-empty flask sat in his pocket. “For yer information, it’s a hipflask and it’s actually quite stylish.”

“Sir, I can’t have you in here, drinking liquor you bought from home.”

“Och well if yer selection wasna grossly overpriced, that wouldna be an issue. But alas, I suppose it’s time for me to take my most lovely date and be on our way. To the next adventure!” The waiter looked as if he wanted to throw Jamie out of the restaurant himself but since they were apparently ready to be off into the night, he asked for his payment politely and returned in record time to usher them out the door. Jamie lent out a hand to Claire and twirled her into his side when she stood, her laughter filling the cozy space.

“Sassenach, they’re all watchin’ us. Let’s get out of here, aye?” He whispered into her hair and he focused on not bumping into tables on their way out. The other patrons watched half in annoyance and half in good-natured smiles cast their way.

“Ayeeeee!” Claire rolled her r’s as best she could and Jamie laughed so hard she could feel his chest reverberate against her back as she led him outside.

Back in the park, Claire led him down brick paths and through lines of tall trees, and he followed her every move. She knew they were only minutes from her townhouse but reveled in the magic of the gardens at night alone with him. With Jamie.

“I wrote it for you, you know,” she said quietly as she walked along the low brick wall lining the gardens. Jamie, down on the sidewalk, looked up confused.

“Ye wrote what, lass?”

“The french song you heard today. I wrote that, last night. I couldn’t sleep.”

Jamie stopped walking. When he turned to face Claire head-on, she came up a few inches above his head from standing on the low wall but felt incredibly small under his gaze. She fumbled with her dress and tried to take a step forward along the wall, but two strong hands held in place by the waist.”

“Will ye tell me what ye wrote? What the words mean?”

“I thought you said you spoke french.”

“Aye, I did. But I was so entranced by ye when I saw ye in the shop, so surprised, that I forgot to actually listen and translate,” he smirked. “Please tell me?”

She watched him for a moment. Not yet. It’s too soon for that. She leaned in close, close enough to smell his cologne and see peak of ruddy stubble on his cheeks. He closed his eyes and his mouth fell open just a bit, and she whispered, “Not a chance.”

She jumped down from the wall past his grasp, strolling back down the brick path. Jamie stood stunned, shook his head, brushed back a few rogue curls, and jogged to catch up with her pace.

---

They arrived back at Louisburg Square not more than ten minutes later. The night was getting late. Claire fidgeted with the hem of her dress, Jamie kept shrugging his shoulders in the black leather jacket, and they walked slower with each step. When it couldn’t be delayed any longer, they arrived at the brick steps to Claire’s porch.

“So, this is me.” She turns to face him, to prolong this moment, this night.

He smirked. “Aye, Sassenach. I remember.”

“Why do you call me that?” He cocked his head at her. “A sassenach, I mean.”

“Och, I mean no offense by it and can stop if ye’d like. It just means outlander, someone not from here.”

“Here? It seems that here is Boston, and you’re not from here either!” She crossed her arms in mock admonishment.

“That mebbe so, but I can’t help that being with you makes me feel like home,” he said as he took a step toward her. Her arms fell to her sides then, and Jamie reached for them in his.

“Was that jus’ the most foolish thing to say? Shit, I jus’ keep making a right fool of myself around ye it seems. First the voicemails and now…”

“I understand… exactly, how you feel.” She couldn’t look at him. It should be too soon to feel this way. He was a practically a stranger, and yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling something was different. As if he could read her mind, he replied with questions of his own.

“Is it usual? What it is between us?” He watched her with such intensity, such revere, such awe. She met his eyes, and softened.

“It’s often something like this, I think.” He nodded in agreement. “But no. This isn’t usual. It’s different.” He nodded again, seeming to memorize the pattern of the bricks on the sidewalk under their feet. “I guess that’s my queue… Thank you for a truly wonderful night, Jamie,” she dropped his hands and began to walk up the steps to her door when a strong arm pulled her back into a familiar warm embrace.

“Claire, I--” he swallowed and took a step back from her. She noticed that in the distance he created, his hand still held onto her waist. His fingertips pressed into her flesh and goosebumps erupted under the fabric. She met his eyes and sank into their ocean depths.

“I’d very much like to kiss ye. May I?”

---

It's HAPPENING!!! These sweet babies went on their first date! I figured based on what we know about them, they're both too down to earth for some fancy restaurant acting formal. The flask/thermos scene is based on Jess and Nick's date in New Girl where they get absolutely trashed in a very similar situation. Plus, it just seems like Jamie would be the kind of guy to have a flask on him, right? How are we feeling about these two? About the date? I'm so excited to get to the angsty part of this! I promise it's coming up soon. (Like, next chapter, soon). Thanks for being so patient with me while I was away enjoying post-deployment bliss with my husband! Writing wasn't on the top of my list, but it's good to be back! As always, thanks for reading. Your comments and kudos here and interactions on Tumblr really do mean so much to me and I really appreciate your support for this story and for me. Stay safe and healthy out there! <3

#in which tessaactually tries fan fic #songs about me fic #outlander fic #outlander fan fic #first date!!!#drunk!claire and drunk!jamie being tipsy in a place they shouldn't be feels very much on-brand for them

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missskzbiased · 4 years

Text

Getting my Ex-Roommate

It’s a spin off from “Getting a Roommate”, just because I felt Chan deserved better. It’s not required to read the series to understand any of this but I will link it here anyway haha (Part 1)

Tagging @jikseud since I kinda did it for us SUHAHUSAHUSHAHUSA

Genre: Oneshot, Best friends to lovers Au, Suggestive, Mature/Smut

[(?): I’m actually not sure if it’s smut, I’m not familiar with what I can call smut, but I do think it’s mature? Please correct me if I’m wrong]

Word Count: ~8,2K Female lead

TW: Dry humping (?), Language, Suggestive stuff (?), Alcohol, Kinda possessive at the end (?), Can it be considered dirty talk (?) [I swear to god I suck at warning things, I appologize deeply]

/////

You could call Bang Chan many things.

You could call him funny, gentle, kind, an amazing rapper, a great friend, an awesome singer, a perfect producer, smart, goofy... Hot. Hell yeah, you could call him so damn hot! And although you could say he was all that, you couldn’t feel more miserable for being his best friend, and it had a clear reason that you pretend you didn’t know.

You couldn’t call him your boyfriend.

The bright part was that nor you nor anyone else for that matter, so you weren’t completely miserable right now, but you kinda were because… Well, you’re his best friend, you should root for him, right? Yeah, right. Totally right. This was exactly the reason why you knocked on his door at 10 PM on a Monday with a bag full of alcohol and food.

“Bang Chan!” You yelled, getting a groan as an answer “Open the Bifrost” You shouted and you could hear him laughing on the other side.

“It’s just a door, Y/N” He snorted, opening it for you “Which you have the keys to open if I’m not giving keys to random people on the street that look exactly like you” He rolled his eyes in mockery, making you thoughtfully grab your chin.

“I think that just might be the case” You sighed, jokingly worried as you came into his place, walking to his kitchen and letting the bag there, resting on the island. He locked the door behind you, chuckling before he followed you to his kitchen, leaning on the doorframe as he watched you taking the things you bought out of the bag.

“You didn’t need to do it” He reassured you, and you could only scoff, looking at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, because best friends stay home when their best friends were dumped” You agreed sarcastically “Please, It’s obvious that my mission is to make you drunk and fat right now” You raised the bottle you had in hands and shook the ice cream pot with your other hand, looking at him mischievously “Let’s switch that six-pack into a round one-pack, shall we?” You joked, making him laugh astonished.

“I can’t believe you… What did I ever do to deserve you? You’re the most perfect best friend ever” he cheered, getting closer and hugging you.

Yeah! Just what you loved to hear from the guy you have a crush on about forever! Yay!

“Oh, you thought it couldn’t get better, hm? But I brought your favorite…” You left the food you had in your hands on the island before hugging him back and drumming on his back, making it sillier by mouthing the drum sound as you did it, setting the mood for the big announcement “… Sausage sticks!” You said proudly, and he gasped.

“You didn’t!” He chirped “I could kiss you right now!” He laughed.

Just do it!

“Eww!” You cooed “Gross!” You feigned a queasy expression, getting a scoff from him, which you smiled in response “Come on, let’s eat as you vent about that bitch” You encouraged, picking up the alcohol the best you could, clumsily trying to balance everything, making him cackle up as he picked up some of the bottles from your arms, helping you out. You sat down on the couch, cross-legged, your arms bracing you on the armrest.

“She’s not a bitch” He complained “She’s actually… Perfect” He sighed, sadly looking into your eyes for comfort, but you averted yours. Of course, she was perfect… You have been watching him fall for her for a while now, you even had the opportunity to see her up close, although she didn’t notice you, and you had to hear about her every time he met you! Even though you knew he thought she was perfect for him, it hurt to hear it again and again, so you just opened up your soju bottle, drinking it eagerly.

“Well, she’s perfectly fine ditching you for another man, that’s for sure” You said bitterly as you rolled your eyes.

“Hey, be a little nicer here! I just got dumped” He whined, pouting at you “She likes Minho, what can she do? Pretend she likes me back until I fall for another person?” He mocked “That’s how life is, Y/N! One day you like someone and the other day that someone likes someone else” He stated tiredly, drinking his own bottle.

“Tell me about it!” You agreed, the clinking noise from your bottle hitting on his sounding in the air before you gulped down again, releasing a loud and pleasing sigh, getting a surprised look from Chan, who seemed genuinely amused.

“You were dumped too?” He chuckled “How can anyone dump you? You’re perfect!” He frowned suddenly, looking at you seriously “Should I beat him up?” You scoffed.

“It would be really funny if you did” You joked, imagining him punching himself randomly with a joyful sigh “But I don’t think you should beat him up, it will hurt your soft heart” You mocked, getting a kick as an answer.

“I tell you everything about my crushes! It’s not fair” He complained, and he was right! He told you everything about his crushes, it was unbearable. You groaned before taking another gulp, and he eyed you worried “Hey, slow down” He advised, but you shrugged him off.

You could remember all the girls he ever fell for, which was a lot of girls… Chan was a hopeless romantic. You didn’t expect him to be like this when you first met him since he was quite a… Sexual guy, to say the least. It was kind of funny to see how he acted in bed (Not that you have seen it, but you heard it a lot) and how he got all lovey-dovey with random chicks that appeared on his life. You couldn’t say it was really fun, though, since none of those chicks were you.

What an unfair life!

You remembered how he looked in your eyes when you first met, smiling at you and saying that the only rule you should have was not to fuck each other, because it couldn’t end up well. At first, you agreed eagerly, not really thinking much about it, but then you started to hear him… All those girls should feel so damn lucky if he made them feel like screaming on your ears every fucking night! In the beginning, it enraged you, it was uncomfortable, and then somewhere along the way it turned into sexy… You enjoyed listening to him.

If you were fair enough you could point out exactly the day it happened.

You were sitting in the kitchen, drinking your hot chocolate warily expecting him to be done anytime soon so you could go to sleep in peace. The girl finally let out a loud moan that you knew too well, it was that kind of moan you let out when you couldn’t take anything anymore, you could only lay there and sleep, completely happy with your life. Good for her! Because you had to wake up really early in the morning and you couldn’t be unhappier… Your moody mind got startled at a shirtless Chan walking into the kitchen, his boxers kind of messy and the only thing that protected his body from your thirsty eyes.

He was… Wow.

You had seen him shirtless before, of course, you were his roommate, but you never saw him all fucked out, his hair messy, his skin sweaty and flushed, his chest going up and down as he breathed… You didn’t even know! Satisfied? Heavily? You just knew it sounded hot and you wanted to get his boxers out of that body and take him to yourself. Of course, you didn’t. He greeted you with an angelic smile, warmed up some water while you ogled at his back, and went back to his room to take care of the lucky girl.

You have never been the lucky girl once.

The problem could be small if he just fucked well, but Bang Chan was an angel in real life, which should be unfair to all the boys on the planet! You couldn’t understand how no one tried to beat him up just because they were angry with his perfection. You wanted to beat him up for being that perfect. It was impossible to point out a flaw on that damn face, and it enraged you to the point you wanted to be fucking him angrily, which didn’t help your case at all. Actually, being a hopeless romantic wasn’t quite the virtue you were looking for, but would you put it as a flaw? You didn’t even care anymore, all you wanted was to fuck and cuddle him to your death.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice startled you, your eyes shooting to his as you tried to think what to say without telling him the truth “You’re off for quite a while now” He added, looking worried.

“I drank too fast” You lied, cringing with your stupidity, but he seemed to buy it “Anyway, I’m not here to talk about my terrible love life, I’m here to hear about yours” You reminded him, gesturing so he could start complaining, your bottle being finished as you went silent.

“I don’t have much to complain, really… I expected it one way or another, I kinda knew she liked Minho, I just hoped she could like me better” He admitted, looking at his bottle for a few seconds before drinking “I told her we could be friends, I just needed some time to adjust… She’s coming this Friday, so… Yeah, that’s pretty much all that I have to say” He looked at you, expecting you to say something.

“I can’t believe you used all my pick-up lines on her” You groaned “I gave you my best one so far!” You whined childishly.

“I’m sorry, but I had to use the photographer one! I can picture you and I together was just right there to be used!” He defended himself, and you pouted, finishing another bottle, just like him. The sad part about this one was that you really meant it… You could remember how nervous you were when you said it as a “joke” and he cringed, laughing and saying he would totally use that with her… It shattered your heart. You opened the third bottle, drinking it at once “Wow! What the hell, girl?!” He got startled “You’re not a good drinker, what are you doing?”

“You’re not the only one who wants to forget someone” You protested, opening one more drink “Let me drink my problems away” He looked at you sympathetically. You couldn’t believe you were so boldly trying to flirt with him just to be his motivation to flirt with another girl! You hated how he was oblivious to your feelings. Oh, well! There here was a flaw!

“That bad, hm? What did he do?” He asked curiously, opening and drinking his soju in one go, just like you “We can drink it all away together, you’re right” he agreed, looking at you concerned. Your stomach flipped when you looked at his eyes, his swollen lips from sucking the bottleneck catching your eyes for just a second before your eyes darted to his again.

Not every flaw in the world could make you want him less.

“He fell in love with someone else… I guess best friends have the same love problems” You smiled bitterly “Actually, I like him for a while now, but he can’t even see me as a woman” You sighed, averting your eyes and fixing them on your bottle again. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you felt free to say it out loud, maybe all you had to do was vent a little bit, complain about him so you could move on.

“I doubt that” He scoffed “There’s no way in hell he doesn’t see you as a woman! Like no way in fucking hell!” He disagreed eagerly, and you narrowed your eyes to him “I mean it! I’m not saying you’re just this, don’t get me wrong! You know you’re smart and funny, you know you’re like the perfect girl to any guy out there!” He started cautiously, making you snort.

To any guy out there but him…

“Spill it” You encouraged, expecting him to say something dumb, trying to light up your mood. He used to do it a lot when you lived together, say stupid things just to make you laugh and feel better after a crap day… Well, until he decided to move out. You never really understood what was the deal. He said he wanted to live with the boys so he could produce his music, but he could do it while living with you, couldn’t he? Of course, He could! He was doing this right now after being kicked out from their place! And he didn’t even think to move in with you again… Well, He deserved being kicked out! You thought as you scoffed, the bittersweetness in your mouth could be either from the alcohol or from your soul at this point.

“But you also hot as hell” He added. You could only choke, coughing so much you had to rest your bottle on the floor, looking at him completely in chock while he just smiled sheepishly “I mean it, you’re gorgeous! If he doesn’t see you as a woman, he’s totally insane!” He reassured, and you averted your eyes again, wondering if you should say something to him. He never called you hot before… Maybe it was the alcohol? He wasn’t exactly the best drinker in the world, but it was just his… How many bottles did he have? He couldn’t be drunk already, could he? And even if he was! Was he being the sincere drunk? Did he really think about you like this and just never dared to say it to your face? You glanced over him, watching as he drank lazily.

You decided to ignore it by now.

“Well, I can’t really blame him for not liking me, right?” You trailed off, and Chan nodded at you “At least he didn’t hook up with me before” You mused and as soon as you said it he shot you a glare “No, sorry! I’m just angry at this girl, okay? You took her on dates, you were all lovey-dovey with her, you took care of her when she was on her period… I can’t believe she just left you like this” You complained, picking up your bottle and drinking it as Chan drank his own.

If you were her, you would never leave him.

“She wanted to see if it would go well… It didn’t” He shrugged “It’s not a big deal, I think you’re more upset about it than I am” He laughed. You slapped your own thigh, startling him as you pointed at him, angry. He was right, you were far more upset with this than him, maybe because you couldn’t understand how she could miss your chance like this! He did all you wished he would do with you and then she just dropped him!

“You should be upset too! She called you a hot daddy and she just went away like this!” You whined. You looked at the bottle on your hand, wondering how many bottles did you just drink, feeling a little bit tipsy, but you shrugged it off by looking at Chan again, frowning. The truth was that you found the girl amusing, for all you saw and all you heard, she was fun to be around, and maybe you could even be her friend! You both seemed to be quite similar. You didn’t have much to defend your plea, so you were just saying anything you could think of by this point.

“Do you want me to be upset?” He chuckled “I thought you came here to make me feel better” He whined, nudging you with his feet, making you giggle “Come on, make me feel good!” He uttered, throwing himself back on the couch, sprawling there with a pout. You looked at his lips, kinda drooled but still looking kissable, tracing over his neck to his arms until you got to his hand hanging off of the couch holding his drink… Somehow the eight bottles you had bought were just empty on the floor… Did you two drink that much already?

Suddenly you realized what he had just said.

“Wait, what?!” You asked startled, he looked at you confused, a goofy smile on his lips.

“Make me feel good~” He repeated himself, “You said you came here to cheer me up, right?” He pouted again, and you had to fight your urge to crawl over him and kiss him right there. You averted your eyes, feeling shy all of sudden, and he seemed to notice the change in your mood, because he sat back, straight, and tilted his head cutely “What’s up?”

You felt his gaze burning your face.

Or maybe it was just you blushing.

Or maybe it was the alcohol.

“I can kiss it better” You muttered under your breath, your face heating up like hell “Where does it hurt?” You asked, bolder than you thought you should be, your eyes fixing on his, buried there. You could swear he was blushing too. Maybe it was just the alcohol speaking, but you were so sure he was blushing like you were, looking at you expectantly.

“We’re drunk” He gulped down, looking attentively as you uncrossed your legs and kneeled on the couch, crawling over him slowly, his body leaning back until his head sank in his pillow as you leaned closer to his face “We’re friends” He tried again, watching as you licked your bottom lip while ogling his own, he felt his throat blocking, the dryness in it making him whine “Right?” He asked unsurely, his eyes fixed on your lips.

“You can call us friends…” You agreed, a smirk flickering over your face “… But I want to call you Daddy tonight” He gasped, his breath withhold as he watched you closing the gap between your lips. You couldn’t tell if it was the drunkenness or just to be able to finally kiss him after such a bold statement, but you were light-headed and messy right now, your lips met awkwardly, too much teeth to the formula, which made you snort right into the kiss “Sorry” You blurted out embarrassed, widening your eyes as you giggled and sat in his lap, watching him under you.

“Oh lord…”He muttered, his eyes searched dazzlingly for yours, his hand caressing your cheek “Could you please not sit on my dick? It would help me so much…” You burst out laughing, his voice sounding drowsy to your ears, his tongue rolling as he tried to speak, his gaze fixing in the ceiling, trying to avert from your eyes.

“I thought you wanted me to make you feel good” You whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine, his eyes shutting immediately, his hand made their way to your hips as soon as you rolled them against his, gripping you hard and forcing you down, so you would stay still. You would never do something like this in a sober state, but right now it seemed so right… That’s why even with his grip on you, his budge pressed against you distracting you from sober thoughts, you rolled your hips again, enticing a strangled moan from him that could be enough to set you on fire for days.

“We really shouldn’t” He tried to say, his voice dripping like syrup, his mind lost somewhere along the way, his eyes refusing to look at you. He knew the moment he opened his eyes, he would lose himself right there, just by facing the lust on yours. You should never know this, but he wanted this for so long… You would never imagine how much he refrained himself every day until he found her, the girl who finally got you away from his mind… The girl that resembled you so much that he found it possible to move on from you… Just so you could blow all that up.

Gosh, he wished you would blow him right now.

“We… Shouldn’t?” Your voice sounded unsure and fragile, so soft he almost didn’t hear you, and you lifted from his lap, his hand still glued to your hip while he opened his eyes slowly to watch you “I mean… “ You cleared your throat, giving him a fake and bright smile “You’re too weak, what’s that? For some Daddy you sure lose your shit quickly” You joked half-heartedly, getting up from him and standing beside the couch, his eyes buried into yours, looking for something you didn’t know, so you averted yours.

“It’s just that… We’re… Drunk” He trailed off, averting his eyes as well “I don’t want us to regret this… I mean, we’re friends, right? I don’t want to lose this” He pointed between you two, getting up from the couch as well to get close to you. You scoffed, nodding in agreement, even though you didn’t agree at all. Yeah, you felt kinda tipsy, but no, you weren’t drunk, you were bold at best! He looked fine too… He just didn’t want this as much as you.

“You’re right” You stated bitterly “We’re drunk and hurt… We’ve been friends for too long to lose it for being a rebound” He perked his ears at your sigh, looking at you directly now “It was supposed to be a joke, but it got out of hand, I’m sorry” You lied, smiling awkwardly at him. He held your hand, squeezing it reassuringly, and smiling back to you.

“No, no… I am the one who should be sorry” His other hand caressed your cheek, and you felt your eyes tearing up. Why did he have to be so caring? He got alarmed at the sight, cupping your cheeks, leading you to face him gently, his eyes worriedly scanning your features “Sorry… I’m just…” Your voice trembled, cracking in the end, broken.

“Oh, angel” He cooed, hugging you tightly “That’s not your fault… We’re fine, I promise you” his thumbs rubbed circles on your back, soothingly, and every string inside your brain tensed up, trying to stay focused, trying to understand that this would never happen even if you really urged for it. You hugged him back, taking advantage of these few seconds you could have, taking him in as you prepared to let him go.

“We’re fine, you’re right” You agreed, breaking away from him before you wiped your tears away hurriedly, chuckling “I’m just sensitive right now… I guess… Well, it’s hard to fall for someone that can’t be yours” He nodded, cupping your cheek again as he looked lovingly at you.

You wished he could look at you like this every day and not only when you were crying.

“Okay! Let’s lift that mood” You clapped your hands suddenly, startling him, your smile back to your face as you tried to compose yourself “I’m going to take a bath now and we’re going to sleep because your bloody ass was dumped on a Monday and I have classes tomorrow morning, unlike a lazy bitch” You eyed him envy, making him laugh. You smiled for real this time, enjoying the sound of his laugher, glancing at his dimples with a tight chest. He was so cute…

Oh, good lord! Why give you a handsome and fuckable best friend and not let you enjoy this life?

You made your way to his room, picking up his clothes so you could sleep comfortably. You choose a thin shirt and a pair of boxers you were used to dressing, knowing it was comfy and soft, and headed to his bathroom, expecting that a cold shower could help your mind for now. You undressed quickly, letting your clothes on his laundry basket before letting the cold water hit your foot, getting used to the temperature before getting your legs, arms, and chest under the water. You let the water hit the back of your neck, the pressure helping you with your tension.

Everything was fine.

You slept in his bed many times by now… Just because you just sat on his lap, rolled your hips and heard him moan for you… Okay, that was not how you should structure your thoughts. It didn’t matter you just heard him moan right under you, almost asking for you to… Okay, not like that. The cold shower wasn’t helping at all. It didn’t matter, whatever it was, that’s it! Now it was far better! It didn’t matter, you weren’t overthinking it, you didn’t mind he would be lying on his bed on his boxers like usual, totally relaxed.

For lord’s sake.

Would it be bad if you just touched yourself for just a second? You could come in a minute? How the hell did you expect to lay down with him semi-naked after tonight? You were just crying on his chest for something he didn’t even know! After sitting on his damn lap! What the hell were you thinking? You should stay away from alcohol forever. That was it. No more drinking for you. Nothing. Not one drop would touch your lips from now on.

Maybe think about lips wasn’t the best choice at all.

You remembered how your lips met his, all drooled because of drinking and still managing to taste just fine. God does favorites after all. You should have done it better… You just smashed your lips together, kinda lost in what you were doing, your teeth even hit each other! Ugh… He would think you were a terrible kisser! Not that it matters, since you shouldn’t do it again. Yeah, you were worrying for nothing, like always. You even puffed his mouth with air! Why did you have to laugh in the middle of the kiss?! Oh my god… All your life was embarrassing.

You turned off the shower, drying yourself and dressing up so you could finally lay down, not minding him at all, because he was a friend. Just a friend. Best friend of one and all. When it came to shipping, you and he could only be on a friendship, because that was exactly what you were. A friend. Great, your mind wasn’t done rambling, which was the last thing you needed right now, but who cares? Not your brain, that’s for sure.

“Hey” You greeted, trying to sound at ease. He had his arms crossed under his head, looking at the ceiling contemplatively before hearing you. He seemed in deep thought, but he still turned his head to look at you, smiling when he saw you with his clothes, the same clothes you picked up every time you needed to borrow some from him. Unexpectedly, he was covered with a blanket, which wasn’t really his thing “What is it? Are you shy to let me see you on your boxers for the hundredth time?” You joked, amused by the blush dusting his cheeks.

“I thought… I don’t know, maybe you would be uncomfortable?” He confessed, a sigh leaving his lips “I’m just being dumb, hm?” He laughed bashfully, tossing the blanket aside “Come here” He wiggled his brows jokingly, patting the spot next to him, getting a chuckle from you.

“I’m glad you’re just being weird like always” You stated before turning off the lights, sitting on the corner of the bed before slicking over to his side, cuddling him “I wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t let me cuddle you like always, Mr.Puffles” You couldn’t see it in the dark, but you were sure he rolled his eyes as he always did when you compared him to your body pillow, a birthday gift he gave you on your first year together as a roommate, implying you were too cuddly to sleep by yourself.

“Stop calling me Mr.Puffles” He whined, hugging you under the blanket and resting his chin on the top of your head. You felt all your worries disappear. It was just Chan and you cuddling like always, all your horny past left behind, no grudges, no judgment… “Was it Mr.Puffles who hurt your heart like this?” He mocked. What a little prick.

“Mr.Puffles could never hurt me” You retorted, nudging him “The boy who hurt me is a prick, an evil soul that fucks every girl around but me” You made sure to let your tone mysterious and ridiculous, making him snort “I guess it’s fine, though, I’ll just move on… I think it was about time for me to understand we wouldn’t get together…” You felt sad, especially as he nodded against your head, oblivious he was the one who made you feel like this.

“He doesn’t deserve you” He assured you, his tone was bitter, he clearly hated whoever was making you sad like this. He kissed the top of your head and you hummed, agreeing with him half-heartedly before closing your eyes and letting go of your mind.

You wished a good night of sleep would erase all of your worries.

////

It should be no surprise it didn’t.

You woke up with a crack of light right on your eye, pissing you off as the first thing in your morning. You whined, your arms moving to your head, trying to block the light, getting you a little bit happier when the uncomfortable sensation of your eye burning under the sun went away. Your eyes roamed through the room, realizing you were at Chan’s. You began to feel more aware of your surroundings, your eyes rested on his nightstand, his alarm silently staring back at you which made you realize something terrible: You woke up before your alarm. You were sure you set it to the right time, so that bloody silence in the room could only mean that the damn light woke you up for nothing.

Your day was officially sucking!

You moved a little bit, feeling cloistered, but Chan’s grip was strong around your waist, he just pulled you closer, whining in his sleep when you tried to get away, tightening his grip around you, which would be okay if he wasn’t wrapping you up like a taco, his leg thrown around your hips, his arms involving you, one of his hands on your waist and the other one grazing over your breast. You sucked in a gasp, feeling his hand almost groping you. Amazing… Now you were stuck in his arms as his hands brushed places you would prefer they didn’t.

Well, actually you would prefer they did, but purposely trying to arouse you, not like this.

Of course, it could get worse.

You tried to loosen up his grip by shoving his arms, but he responded to your efforts wrapping you up a little bit more, dragging you closer by your waist so close to him you could feel his crotch against your ass. Fun fact: It was hard. Of course, he had to have a wet dream right beside you while he groped you and humped you… Just what you needed to move on completely from him.

“Chan?” You tried to call, your voice husky since you just woke up, or at least that was what you wanted to believe. You couldn’t be aroused by a sleeping friend that happened to be aroused against you, right? Not that kind of raspy voice…Not at all. He hummed, although you didn’t believe he had woke up, burying his face in your hair, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear, your heart racing so much that it rammed inside your head.

Oh my god.

“Y/N?” He called you back, his voice was raspy and his tongue rolled your name like a drunk man, clearly sleepy, and for a moment you felt relief wash over you, grateful god would let him wake up and release you from the heavenly suspicious hell. Surprisingly, he didn’t wake up, he bucked his hips against you, squeezing you as he let his hot breath fan over your right ear.

Oh lord.

“Chan, please wake up” You pleaded, his cock pressed against your butt and his lips brushing your ears being enough for your tongue roll just like his, but naughtier, as the shiver ran through your body, making you shut your eyes for god knows what reason, since it just enhanced all those feelings “Come on, wake up” You said again, trying to nudge him with your elbow.

“Hm?” The hit seemed to work, he shifted, and you took the chance to roll away as you could, which meant you got on your back, getting away from his crotch for now, but still being held by your waist. He didn’t seem interested in waking up, so he took your new position in, hugging you like a koala and burying his face on the crook of your neck.

What a great place to plaster a hot breath.

You closed your eyes, deciding to enjoy the feelings, his body warming up yours, his breath giving you goosebumps, his grip tight on you like he didn’t want to let go. You stretched your neck just for a bit, almost hoping he would just kiss it, which he didn’t, but his lips brushed over your sensitive skin and you gripped the sheets hard, biting your lip to suppress a moan. You could say you almost had a heart attack when your alarm burst out of nowhere, startling both of you. You jumped, accidentally head-butting his nose, getting a whine from him as he hovered over you to turn off the alarm.

That was it, you were dead.

He supported himself with his knee, that was already over your body, so he just sank it between your legs, his left arm bracing him as he stretched his right one to turn off the alarm. His chest was right there for your display, and you almost reached for it, wishing you could caress him and kiss him until he moaned your name… Control your mind! You can control it. He seemed to realize someone was under him, so he looked in your way, taking in your flushed state.

You were a mess.

Your hair was messy, your clothes were messy, the sheets were messy… What the hell had happened while he was sleeping? Somehow your shirt had come up quite a bit, revealing your belly and hanging too close to your boobs, letting too much skin uncovered, which made him gulp. He traced his eyes over your belly to your boxers, short enough to fully reveal your thighs and get his attention when you tried to pressed them together, rubbing against his knee.

What an unholy view…

“Sorry” He muttered, getting off of you, laying his back in the bed and looking to the ceiling, expecting the blank surface to make his bulge disappear somehow. It was almost painful how hard you could get him just staying still, those innocent eyes looking at him startled and… He didn’t even know! Eagerly? It seemed like you expected him to do something.

“Totally fine” Your voice came out hoarsely, and you cursed yourself. Way to go unnoticed! Your legs couldn’t support you even if you tried to stand up, you just felt them mushy, like your soul was trembling to get yourself on him, riding him until you couldn’t walk to your class anymore. He was just too hot to handle… How could you endure it? Being next to a guy who literally just called you in his sleep and rubbed his cock against your ass? You weren’t even wearing underwear! It was just boxers against boxers… You could feel your body tensing up, a pinch on your stomach that needed to be released.

But not now.

“Aren’t you… Hm… Getting up?” He asked, his face turning to you so he could lock his eyes with yours. That was it. Fuck it. You couldn’t care less you had classes today, you threw your leg over his hips, watching as he widened his eyes when you sat right on his dick, just like the last night. You rocked your hips once, getting a shaky moan from him, his eyes closing in delight “What are you doing?” He managed to ask, his mind too high to really understand what he was saying but trying to look composed.

“I’m getting up on you” You stated boldly, waiting for him to open his eyes, but he didn’t. You scoffed, the smugness taking control of your mind as you leaned closer to his ear, letting your breath fan there for a moment, feeling him twitch under you “What were you dreaming?” He shot his eyes open, a gasp leaving his lips “I heard you call my name… As you… Humped… Me” You made sure to pronounce everything slowly, getting off on his shiver, a little whimper falling from his lips.

You felt powerful.

“Y/N?” His voice trembled and you leaned back, your eyes searching for some kind of resistance in his face “Are you sure you want this?” His eyes focused on you, concerned, and you rolled your eyes, astonished.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You scoffed “Do you think I would do it if I wasn’t sure?” He smiled sheepishly at you, embarrassed “There’s a limit you shouldn’t cross on being dumb, Chan” You laughed, looking at him in adoration for a moment, just enjoying his shy look “Are you sure about this?” You bit your lip, trying to not avert your eyes as he opened and closed his mouth, unsure about what to say.

You panicked.

Of course, he didn’t want this! If he wanted this he wouldn’t back off yesterday, he wouldn’t ask you if you were sure… He would take that not so subtle hint that was your clothed core rubbing against his cock as a clear sign of you wanting to do it with him right now. You tried to get off of him, raising yourself slightly before his hands shoot to your hips and grabbed them, tugging you and crashing your hips together, a groan escaping from his lips along a loud moan leaving yours.

Holy fuck…

“Don’t you fucking dare…” He whispered, panting, his forehead rested on your shoulder, his body shivering under yours in excitement “I swear to god… You can’t even imagine how much I wanted to fuck you” He raised his head a little bit, looking at your hips pressed together, your body twitching under his grip “You’re so fucking hot… I had to move out because I couldn’t handle myself… Did you know that?” He raised his head, looking right into your eyes, his eyes dark as you never saw “Did you know I quit being your roommate because every time I saw you, I wanted to fuck you until you forget your damn name?”

That was it! It was a dream.

There was no way in hell you were awake right now.

“Answer me” He ordered, his voice sounded too sexy to allow you to think straight, so you just stared back at him, wetting your dry lips with your tongue, your eyes briefly darting to his lips before going back to his eyes “You can’t even answer me…” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as if you were dumb “Okay, let me ask you this… Are you doing it so you can forget him?” This time his voice wasn’t smug, it was unsure and worried. You couldn’t even understand what he was worrying about.

“Forget him?” You asked confused, your eyes wandering through his face “What?” He closed his eyes, impatient, before he opened them again and dived into your own. He didn’t answer you, so you stood there in silence, wondering what he wanted you to say until it hit you, and as your eyes lit up in realization, you laughed “What?! There is no him, dumbass! It’s you!” He seemed surprised but relieved, and you couldn’t help but cup his cheeks as you smiled at him, delighted “It has always been you…” You pulled his face closer, your lips smashing mid-way, your tongue immediately asking for permission to explore his mouth.

You never imagined you would be kissing Bang Chan.

Okay, you imagined it! But you never thought it was going to be real.

This time, the soberness helped you both, not an issue with your kiss, quite the opposite actually. As you just melted into the kiss, his hands slipping to your waist and holding you gently, like you could break and fade away anytime now, your hands slickered to the back of his neck, fingers fisted on his locks, pulling them and making him groan into the kiss, completely absorbed on what you made him feel. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips as you heard it, rolling your hips ever so slightly just to feel him against you, getting your folds apart.

“You’re so needy, angel” He whispered, his mouth hovering over yours, his eyes closed as he dunks in the heat pouring out of your body, the warmth between your bodies seemed to get him high, and your nails scratching down his nape weren’t helping at all. He buried his nose on your neck, breathing you in, registering you in the back of his mind, your mouth agape in pleasure from a tiny action like this “But you’re also a brat… You shouldn’t talk back to your Daddy” He sighed, disappointed in you, leaving a soft bite on your neck before leaning back, enough to take in the view.

Your eyes were closed, your neck slowly stretching as your head was so heavy with all your lust that it just needed to hang back, your mouth still opened, prepared to moan at any moment. What a beautiful sight. He smirked before getting his hands away from you, crossing it behind his neck, watching as you opened your eyes, annoyed. You glared at him, clearly wanting him to fuck you right now but he just snorted, cocking his brow.

“I won’t pleasure a brat” He grimaced at you, feeling cocky as he saw your pout, your brows frowning “You should do this by yourself if you can’t behave” He mocked, watching as you scoffed, outraged, before sinking in him in a silent challenge. He groaned as he felt your folds embracing him over the fabrics, you could only be dripping if you could just sink like this on his dick, and just the thought was enough to make him want to rip your clothes and fuck you right there, put aside your misbehave.

“Watch me” You didn’t know if it was a plead or a dare and neither did he, so he just focused on your hips moving against his, (not so) dryly humping him at a steady pace. You stroke your heat against him, feeling as the fabric of your boxers drenched with your juices, making it slid too easily and rub your clit, your whines uncontrollable, you were sure his boxers were getting drenched too as you did it, and you couldn’t help but dig your nails on his shoulders just by imagining it. He groaned under your grip, feeling as you slid too easily on him.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet and I didn’t even touch you” He actually didn’t intend to mock you by this but as soon as you squirmed, biting your lips and fastening your pace, he chuckled “Oh… So you like to be a needy little whore?” His voice sounded so smug that you wanted to retort him, but your mind couldn’t register what he was saying. How could you feel so good just by grinding him? You felt something build-up inside you, a far too familiar sensation that could only lead you to the best orgasm you would have had in your life.

Until the damn second alarm sounded.

You cried as you felt your orgasm fade away, vanish like it wasn’t right there for you, startled by the sound, and devasted for the lack of pleasure you would get. Chan turned off the alarm, chuckling as he saw you leaning on his chest, your nose buried on his shoulder as you whined over and over again a bunch of “no’s”, muffled by his skin. He stroke your hair gently, waiting for you to recover from your frustration.

“Time for your classes, angel” He really didn’t want you to go but he said it anyway, holding your waist so you could get up but you held his arms for dear life, whining. He stopped his movements, trying to take a look at your state, and you made it easier by straightening yourself on his lap again, glossy eyes looking at him pleading.

“Fuck my classes! Please, let me cum” Your plea sounded like the sweetest sound he could ever hear, you bucked your hips against his once, then twice, and without a proper answer, you just resumed from where you left, humping him eagerly, hoping you could reach your orgasm this time. It built up much faster than before, the knot forming on your stomach almost immediately, and you couldn’t help but moan loudly as you felt it deliciously spreading everywhere.

Chan watched as you flushed, your neck, ears, and face painted in pink, your boobs bouncing up and down as you kept your pace, your arms tangling his neck, your head slowly falling back, your body trembling slightly as you got closer to your high. You tried to shut your mouth but as soon as your orgasm hit you, you cried satisfied, your mouth agape, a string of saliva connecting your lips before running down your chin, your eyes rolling back as his name was enchanted over and over again, and when you became unable to talk, your tongue just slid out your mouth, hanging there in the most filthy view he had in his whole life.

He could have come right there.

You didn’t stop your movements, rocking your hips slowly until you could ride out from your high, and when you finally stopped, feeling whole as you never felt, you looked into his eyes. He looked dazed at you, his eyes fucking you silently, and he let a breathless “wow” slip from him as he watched you. The shame crushed you without any mercy, humiliation washing over you as you tried to hide from him, your face burying in his chest. He chuckled, amused by your shyness before he rubbed your back gently.

“Can you keep going?” You scoffed, nuzzling into his chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked tiredly, a smile growing in your face “If you tried to stop me now I would have to search someone to fuck on the streets” You joked but he didn’t seem to like it, gripping your waist and bringing your body closer to his, getting a whine out of you when you rubbed against him again.

“I will make sure to fuck you until you can’t even think about fucking someone else” He assured you, his voice low and threatening, getting you even more aroused than you were “Be a good girl and when I’m finished, you won’t even remember your name, angel, you won’t be able to cum with anyone else, you will be my little slut... Only mine” His whisper sent a shiver down your spine and even though you were more than willing to comply, you snorted.

“What if I’m a bad girl?” He scoffed, his fingers burying in your hair and tugging it slightly as he approached his lips from your ears, letting his teeth graze your earlobe before biting it.

“Then I will punish you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week” His threat made you twitch, your tongue darted to your lips, wetting them.

“Make it two and I will be the best brat you ever had” You offered, making him laugh, breaking his character for a moment. He shook his head in disbelief, kissing your neck softly.

“What do I do with you?” He giggled, hugging you tightly, and you chuckled, scratching his back lightly.

“I hope you’ll do me before I need to ask someone else” You joked.

“Okay, let’s make it two” He agreed, his eyes darkening again “I won’t stop until you’re begging me to ruin you” He promised, and you gulped down, excited as his fingers traced down your body until it reached your core “Are you familiar with the color system?” He asked, thumb flicking your clit directly, making you squirm under his touch as you nodded silently, lost in your mind “Use your words, angel… I want to hear your voice… It’s time for the neighbors to meet my new roommate, don’t you think?” His finger slid inside you, suddenly, a surprised moan leaving your lips on spot, getting a smirk from him “Yeah, that’s right… Something like this” He approved.

What a perfect son of a bitch…

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urmomsstuntdouble · 3 years

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Can you do one for america

Since I received this about an hour or two after posting my lithuania analysis, I assume you’re asking for an america character analysis. I was debating whether or not to go through with writing this or not for a while, but i’ve decided that I’ll try. I hope you enjoy it!

Idealism

The first thing that sticks out to me when thinking about america is that he’s super idealistic, and I think this has its roots in his birth. Everything in his life has been about hope and being better than others, even down to the decision to colonise north america. England needs to be the most powerful country in europe. Better set up a colony in america so that it can save us. It’s that sort of logic that i think gives america the idea that he needs to be perfect, or that he can be the ideal person. And though a lot of what we consider to be the “american” identity (intense patriotism, nativism, idealism, etc) took recognizable shape in the 19th century, i think this way of thinking was nothing new to alfred. He’d been raised on it, with the desire to please arthur sort of in his blood? Anyway i feel like the idea that the colonies would be so so prosperous really put the idea into america’s head early on that he was perfect and that he was destined to be such a great person, even if that wasn't true. I often see his daddy issues presented as solely abandonment issues, but my interpretation of america is more of a combination of abandonment issues and the pressure, some of it self inflicted, to be a perfect country. Basically, his idealism is deeply rooted in unhealthy places.

Also, a religion headcanon i have is that while he was more raised to be a puritan, freddie prefers quakerism. Though he’s not the most compatible with quakerism, as it rejects violence and quakers often refer to themselves as the society of friends, and are very welcoming, i think it gives him some hope. One of freddie’s biggest problems is that he wants people to be better than they are, and quakerism helps a little with that, because it’s a way that he can help himself become better than he currently is. I feel like he’s been a quaker for a very long time, so he’s not a very good quaker, but this is still something that’s very important to him.

Hero complex and other mental bullshit

America having a hero complex and also being physically 19 is something i think really highly of. First of all, it very much fits with the mythology of america being a sort of world savior. Secondly, a lot of american media focuses on heroism, whether its on the behalf of average people, like the hunger games, or on the behalf of superheroes, like the mcu- especially over the past 20 years. Though i think it’s a good thing to promote heroism, the hero-martyr complex that gen z has is. Oof. And i think alfred fits very well into that toxic sort of “heroism” that most gen z kids have. He thinks he’s somehow able to fix everything wrong with the world, just because he really wants to. Though that desire is genuine, it’s not always something that’s his place to fix or something that even needed fixing. There’s also a selfish component to that- He needs to prove himself, and heroism is the only way he thinks he can do that. It’s why he works out constantly and cares so much, on a personal rather than country-avatar-thing level, about being #1 at everything. He has to be better than everyone else because he has to be the perfect hero.

I also think it’s interesting how america seems to have more pronounced daddy issues than canada, and i think this is something that harkens back to the 13 colonies (side note i hate the term ‘colonial times’ when referring to the time before the revolutionary war or canadian independence. These are settler states, its always colonial times.) and american independence. Canada sort of only exists because of british loyalists, as they made up the majority of the population around the turn of the 19th century. They saw themselves as being The Better Colonists. Real daddy’s boy types, and I think this is something that contributes to the hero complex. Because matthew refused to rebel so openly, that made arthur favor him as a son, so alfred felt the need to be even better than matthew- even though, of course, alfred was a bit more favored.

Fighting Style

Freddie is very good at violence, but not in the same way that a lot of other nations are. Where they tend to be more well trained in specific styles of fighting, freddie just sort of has all of them? His mind is very crowded, i think. Also, the way that he would have learned to fight is different from the other super powerful countries by virtue of his youth, and by virtue of the different regional fighting styles in america. One that’s haunted me is a trend in the ability to rip off ears and noses- Particularly by white gangs in the antebellum south, this was seen as being like. A real badass. I think alfred was something of a feral child. If you know the saying “it takes a village to raise a child,” i think it really did with him. He had so many parents, just like a lot of the western hemisphere countries. But anyway because of all his many many parents, there was never any strong parental force in his life, so it’s more like he didn’t have any at all, and because of that, alfred was a very strange child. And because violence is so ingrained in american society, alfred is very good at fighting, both in order to be fun and flashy and for his own self defense. Though he doesn't really like to fight unless he feels like he has to (and other people are very good at convincing him that he does have to)

Sports

Though america is definitely super athletic and could probably naturally be good at most sports, i think there’s a few that he’d more gravitate towards. Those are basketball, track and field, and olympic lifting. I would include american football but it’s a stupid sport that doesn’t make any sense, so it will not be included for spite reasons. In basketball I think he’s sort of an every-man. I think he’s around six feet tall, so he really could play any position on offense, and as for defense, I think he’d play his best defense against the point guard, bc i feel like Alfred is really fast and good at getting up in your face. He’d have a ton of steals whenever defending against the point guard. I think he’d be a good center on offense, because he’s a bit aggressive and that would be useful for getting rebounds and put-backs, though i wouldn’t discount point-guard freddie, because he does like to be very inspiring. He’s pretty energetic as well, and a point guard can really carry the entire team in terms of energy and spirit. As for track and field, he’d also be an every man- I feel like he’d gravitate more towards sprinting events by personality, but his coach would stick him in wherever. Where olympic lifts are concerned, he’s absolutely a snatch specialist.

Empire and contradictions

America is an empire. No way of getting around that. I think imperialism in hetalia is an interesting subject, especially where america is concerned. @mysticalmusicwhispers did a good job running that down here, but basically my thoughts on the matter are that alfred doesn't really like being an empire. There’s many angles to that. It’s lonely at the top, for one. There’s no one who relates to being a 21st century empire in quite the same way as him. Then you have the fact that a lot of people living in america have suffered under imperialism as well. Because of that, there’s a lot of self hatred and anxiety and a not knowing if he can fully trust himself. Theres also the obsession that many americans have with people from other cultures being able to assimilate to american wasp culture. Because of all the people who live in the states who are very much not wasps and who can never be, it’s really hard on alfred, though he refuses to admit that things are anything but fine.

Extras/Fun stuff

A book that reminds me of him is The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien. It’s a collection of short stories about O’Brien’s time serving in the military during the Vietnam War. It’s a very haunting book and I think about it at least once a week, but it is very violent and there’s a lot of fucked up stuff in it.

giveme chubby alfred or give me death

i feel like this shouldn’t have to be said, but sometimes there’s people who depict him as being pro-trump or pro-right wing bullshit, which. absolutely not. just because of all the political turmoil that exists within alfred, and because of all the pain he goes through because of all the hate that exists within his borders- hate that the entire world is forced to pay attention to. even though he might not have all the best sympathies or motivations, he’s just so tired of all the pain he personally goes through because of domestic political unrest, and would like it to end in the way that’s the least painful for him as a person.

Bi king of my heart

not a natural blond

I hc him as being mixed, though i’m not sure what exactly he’d look like? But i do enjoy alfred but not white, as poc are the driving force behind a lot of american life, right down to the languages we speak. Like. something like half the states names are the words of their indigenous peoples, and even more toponyms are indigenous across the country. Then of course i feel he’s very protective of aave and will always pronounce words in Not English correctly. (if u want to hear more about my language thoughts they’re linked below. Not gonna rehash it here cause those posts are Long™)

My playlist for him!

Other analyses (age, linguistics)

writing requests

#@ mystic how does it feel to be tagged in two of my writing request posts #im sorry i love your writing sm #anyway thanks for the ask anon! im not quite so angsty about america right now so this probably #is not as good as it could've been were i in my feelings about him #anywhomst! hope u enjoy this #hetalia #hws #hws america #tw violence #tw imperialism #?#sort of #i dont go into detail about the imperialism but its metnioned #ask #anon #writing requests #character analysis #ceros posting

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f-117-nighthawk · 3 years

Text

Playlist Update? From MY Brain? More Likely Than You Think

can't remember the last time I posted these all together but I just put a few new songs in. I've been playing Arknights bc STARSET songs keep being used in the trailers, and then I was listening to Transmissions while making dinner, and uhhhhh there's two new Transmissions songs on the playlists, plus whatever else the spotify links needed to update to my ever-changing apple versions.

This is just the main playlist, because this one is now 3h 40m, and the other three playlists are about an hour each. I’ll give them their own post tomorrow. Under the cut, because it's also Write Random Snippits and Include Important Lyrics time

Dark Matter

Surprise surprise, this one’s got probably the most work done on it. A lot of that is moving things around, a few deletions, and the additions.

DM now starts with Your World Will Fail, Dark Matter, and Eater of Worlds. Turn the Lights Out still kinda applies, but I stopped vibing with it starting everything, and wasn’t really sure where else it should go so it got dropped. It’s role is sort of picked up by a UtA song later? Anyway, the opening three are still very much about not only the birth of [REDACTED], but the birth of the universe itself. And that’s why it feels better to start out with YWWF. Because it is the start.

(Your world will fail my love/It’s far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can’t imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I’m looking for someone to feed me)

Remnants of Stars is a hook to Filaments at this point, but stays way up here because the thing it’s about connects back up to those three ^ and is something slowly realized by the Paladins throughout the series. There’s kinda three different points that they realize something new about this (at the moment, I Am the One, Cosmic Vertigo, and Centigrade).

(Shed all you know and make way for a galaxy of light/Answers found hidden inside the smallest stone/Bringing forth a new way of life/Open your heart to the sky)

Apocalypse 1992 hasn’t changed. Still about The Fall, still the turning point for the entire damn war. Still about poor Krolia. Still the Rogue One of DM. It happens between parts of Awakenings, detailing the rise of [REDACTED] and the final hours before the destruction of everything sentient species knew beforehand.

(Fly high through apocalypse skies/Fight for the world we must save/Like tears of a unicorn lost in the rain/Chaos will triumph this day)

Apex is the final moments of Apocalypse 1992 from the Red Lion’s perspective, and connects nicely (just as in the albums lol) to the next UtA songs. Which we’ll get to in a bit.

(Brother mountain/Now we sleep/For a thousand years/I will see you again/Something is coming/Coming for me)

You Keep What You Kill covers the slow degeneration of the Empire between The Fall and the Battle of Arus. The knowledge harshly taught by the Thuanial War is forgotten under the influence of Zarkon, Haggar, and [REDACTED]. Marzin and Galraasa quickly rise the ranks as the Empire’s left and right hands, like omens of destruction before them. The four are the ‘holy half-dead,’ the ones who shape the devouring of the universe before them.

(Defying dimensions/These ruthless creatures will steal your soul/Breaking away from the chains of mortality/They won’t be taken down/Bow now to the holy half dead/The master to death mongers calls)

The Glory and the Scum is partially here bc I missed having Delain, I’ll freely admit that. (Delain split up! Like six months ago! I’m still sad!) Here, it’s (most) of the reason why Krolia isn’t around until MGHM. Think Winter Soldier-ish. It’s also from Krolia’s perspective as she’s talking to Kolivan in a conversation I implied in Shatterpoint. Perhaps it shall see the light of day.

(Look at what we've done/Take a step back/Shake your head at what we have become/We're the glory and the scum)

The Seven Sisters is about Keith, mostly, and connected to Closure via its influence on Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) and also to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Also the thing about the Pleiades has kinda become A Thing associated with my two favorite halfbloods.

(I cast my hope upon The Pleiades/The Seven Sisters who would come for me/They’d fall to Earth to grant a child’s dream/But I’m still waiting)

Starlight is the Adashi song. Here, it’s the sad part, based around the time that the SFSS Genesis launches for Kerberos. It also is sort of about Shiro’s thoughts throughout the war as he watches ‘from distant skies’ (and influences String Theory kinda)

(At night the earth will rise/And I’ll think of you each time I watch from distant skies/Whenever stars go down and galaxies ignite/I’ll think of you each time they wash me in their light/And I’ll fall in love with you again)

Waking Dream and Abyss are Awakenings. They’re specifically the Red Lion waking up on Sendak’s ship to her new Paladin, but also sort of the rest of the Lions as they find new Paladins for the first time since The Fall (and, also, an accidental hook to the end of Filaments just by virtue of being on the same UtA album…)

(Centuries like flowing streams as years go rushing by/Waiting in the dark for afterlife)

(Open my eyes in a daze/How long has it been? Am I so out of place?/Warmth I can no longer feel/My mountain is gone, I’m surrounded by steel/The strangest of structures arises ahead/Seems to be held up by nothing/Where have I gone, do I dream?/How can the stars be all I can see?)

Who Will Save You Now is about the Paladins in First Contact. It’s the video messages they send to their families, the warning that Something Is Out Here that they need to prepare for. It’s a declaration of protection for Earth, but a recognition that the Paladins may not be able to do what they say.

(I will not take from you and you will not owe/I will protect you from the fire below/It’s not in my mind/It’s here at my side/Go tell the world that I’m still alive)

Then there’s The End of the Beginning. Which is, well, the eponymous fic. And don’t forget the String Theory connection! Fun fact: part of the last chapter leads directly into part of String Theory at the moment.

(Every night I die just a little/All this time, I’m caught in the middle/All your life, you fought with no winning/This is just the end of the beginning)

A Simple Plan is about anything but a simple plan. Lotor is making his secret bid for the construction of the Sinkline ships, but there’s one more thing he needs before it can come to fruition. Haggar has suspicions, and knows one thing that she needs to keep from both him and Voltron. Team Voltron is still struggling to fit into their new roles, especially with a Black Paladin who adamantly does not want to be Black Paladin, and is in desperate need of one thing to fix the last of the damage done during the Battle of the Sarnan Nebula.

(How long can we hold off ending?/How long can we pretend we’re ok?/No one goes on fighting it forever/I know I’m better this way)

Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Such a short song for such an important fic. It skips all the way over Naxzela to the Mission to the Baaria Shipyards, the first major offensive that isn’t somehow connected to canon (even if only a very very small part of it is actually at the shipyards lol). This is also the song that solidified Keith’s very queer identity in Dark Matter. And more Pleiades stuff!

(In this lonely place, bathed in silence and thoughts of you/I can’t see your face but I’m trying to envision you/So are you really out there? Are you awake with memories/Of a boy you haven’t met yet who’s wished upon the Pleiades?)

There’s another fic in here that I’m still waiting for a song to catch my ear, but it’s pretty big so I’m putting it in here. For the moment, it’s called MGHM 2.0: Electric Paladinloo. Featuring the Whispers, Voltron, and a few mullets.

And then. Hoh boy. The beast of beats. TRIALS (reimagine), Dark On Me, String Theory, and I Am the One. We’ve got [REDACTED], we’ve got [spoiler], we’ve got the first major turning point in the entire war, and the first revelation of the true nature of [REDACTED]. Hence the honor of being the separation point of my two main DM folders. TRIALS is the first part, the horrifying realization. Dark On Me and String Theory itself are from Shiro’s perspective. I Am the One is… an image song? I guess? That’s all I’ll say on that. (I would like to note that the STARSET songs bar OWtT tend to be about the Shiroganes…)

(Hear me from the bottom/Forged in regret, I'm the silversmith/Doomsday, you we had it coming/Marching the streets with an iron fist/Obey no more in silence/The steel in our hearts will be monuments/Today, they'll hear the violence/We'll rise from the dark like Lazarus)

(You're the cause/The antidote/The sinking ship that I could not let go/You led my way, then disappeared/How could you just walk away and leave me here?/Light the night up, you're my dark star/And now you're falling away)

(You don’t believe in space/You don’t believe in light/You don’t believe that anything is well beyond your might/We walk across the sky and beneath the ocean floor/We’re never going anywhere we’ve never been before)

(I am the one/I am the architect to rule your fate)

House on Fire is the aftermath of String Theory, and a large vibe of We ARE Struggling Together! It’s about family, never letting go of something you care about, and the slow act of trusting.

(So I’ll just hold you like a hand grenade/You touch me like a razor blade/I wish there was some other way right now/Like a house on fire we’re up in flames/I’d burn here if that’s what it takes/To let you know I won’t let go of you)

Belgrade is The klance song! It is a) a bop b) always stuck in my head because it is That Good. The line in the chorus about ‘sweet songs of seduction’ is eternally funny to me bc a)they’re both ace and b)QPR’s don’t usually involve seduction. Belgrade also leads almost directly into…

(We pretend in the darkness/We pretend the night won’t steal our youth/Singing me the sweet songs of seduction/Let me be the fool, fool, fool/Who will live and die for you)

Here to Save You is about Sam. Mostly. It’s also about Pidge. And Zaivorge cannons.

(A slave for humankind/I made sure I would survive/To stay alive/Now it’s time to move on/When there’s nothing left to prove/I’m coming to get you)

Iron is the third Closure fic (the second is End of the Beginning, forgot to mention that. They’ve slowly moved away from actually being related to it in anything but name and general idea). It’s about Keith coming to terms with parts of himself, and learning how to use them to great effect. Also has a huge info dump about the Blade.

(You can’t live without the fire/It’s the heat that makes you strong/‘Cause you’re born to live/And fight it all the way/You can’t hide what lies inside you/It’s the only thing you know/You’re embracing that, never walk away)

The second major turning point in the war is Monarch, Birthright, and Firewall. I really recommend reading the whole lyrics for Monarch, because the entire thing is very much a Lotor song. I had a bit of trouble picking a lyric to use here. Monarch is here because Lotor is also the ‘singer’ of Birthright, and both songs are to a very specific high-level target of the Coalition. Firewall is a little different as it’s a Team Voltron song not a Lotor song, but happens because of the same thing the other two do. They’re all not exactly a direct result of Iron, but they wouldn’t happen how they do without it, and then [REDACTED] swings back into the fray and things learned in String Theory/the framing story for Through Apocalypse Skies hit in full force.

(I am not the person you remember from before/The one you patronized and stepped on, the one you hurt/And I have pulled the arrows, now my skin has become stone/No longer am I prisoner to your empty fucking words)

(The voices in my head have all begun to sing/(The voices in your head have all begun to sing)/And they sure as hell hope I am listening/(I sure as hell hope you are listening!))

(They come to your dreams with illusion/They come to bring shape to your mind/You know how to stop the intrusion/We all have to fight for our lives)

and then, The Day the Earth Collapsed

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Here Comes the Reign doesn’t come into full effect until several months after Birthright/Firewall, but starts with The Day the Earth Collapsed. It’s largely about Haggar and [REDACTED]

(You made something they can’t take away/Now bring the fire of the burning sun on everyone)

Supersonic is here… kinda as a placeholder? Things have shifted around since its original purpose, and frankly it’s here still as a framework for what I like to call The Meme Battle. It’s generally about the increase in Coalition support and general winning as they go after warlords in the aftermath of Feyiv, culminating in I Need a Hero which is, of course, The Meme Battle.

Yes, it’s the Shrek version. It’s the Meme Battle.

(Supersonic, polyphonic, this is our war/Mustering the armies, marching faster than before)

(I need a hero/I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night/He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast/And he's gotta be fresh from the fight)

But Tonight We Dance isn’t exactly a klance song, but it’s here for them. On a diplomatic mission gone wrong, the Red and Blue Paladins of Voltron uncover a literally-buried government conspiracy, a rebel cell, and nearly die. A normal days work for the two of them. But they’ve really gotta stop having relationship milestones in the middle of a warzone.

Another reason it’s here is Tonight We Dance is a very aro song to me. “A language universal, but I speak not its tongue” hits hard. I felt like I needed a bit in here to remind listeners/readers that romance isn’t a language Keith speaks. And it becomes very explicit in this fic, just like Belgrade.

(Tomorrow we might wake in servitude and silence/I will give you everything if only you would have me/Tomorrow we will sweat and toil/Our hands will quiver, caked with soil/Tomorrow we'll give it one last chance/But tonight we dance/But tonight we dance!)

But Tonight We Dance is the last of the Closure fics, which is why it’s here. Closure in general is a lot of Keith’s character development and some of the struggles he goes through to accept his place in the universe and the fact that yes, he does have people that care about him. The last fic is me shining a brighter light on Closure’s chorus and taking a ‘last goodbye’ as never needing to say it again

(I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye)

Then we step back into the universe-level action with Soulbound. Revelations from String Theory and Firewall swing back in with a vengeance on a joint Whispers-Voltron mission, leaving them reeling and Krolia questioning her very identity.

(Soulbound, endlessly forever/Locked between the darkness and the light/Don’t drown in the swarming, blackened rising/Hold on to humanity and fight)

About three months after that is My Darkest Hour and Faster Than Light. Haggar realizes something and goes searching for her fifth [spoiler], sending the Blade and the rest of the Coalition scrambling. These also lead directly, and I mean directly, into…

(When the sun comes crashing down/When the world is spinning round and round/I will face what must be my darkest hour)

(Once more we’re flying fast as light/Dark matter passing in the night/Pursued by a force we can’t outrun/As we hurtle towards a dying sun/We maneuver through the remnants of a moon/On the solar winds of supernovas/There is not a place to hide, the Matriarch is close behind/It’s plain to see she’s coming for us all)

Cosmic Vertigo and Other Worlds Than These. Together they are the second of two revelations in what, exactly, is [REDACTED]

(Banish me like burned down planets/Write my fate with sparkling lies/I am the universe; you're just one sky)

(Pull the wool out from your eyes/It won’t shade your frail belief/In the end we cannot hide/There are other worlds than these)

Godhunter is Team Voltron, well, hunting for gods, even as one of them disappears.

(She’s been watching for a century/With hatred, and with scorn/If you know the hunter’s coming/Then you hide or keep on running/'Cause she’s slain the gods before)

Trophy Hunter, Ember, and Redemption are the culmination of Godhunter. I’ve been thinking of them as akin to the suicide mission in Mass Effect 2, if that gives you an idea of what the hell they run into. Also I switched which specific Redemption is on the playlist, because I was listening to Red Handed Denial again and their Redemption was vibing way more than the Hammerfall one. They link up to Godhunter and Soulbound in subject matter, and lead directly into…

(You, you won’t escape me, I’ll rise from the deep/In this final moment, no words left to say/I can’t let you be when a life fades away/You, you won’t escape me ‘cause I’ll set you free)

(Dark matter falling from the sky/Dancing flames reflecting in your eyes as you watch them burn/Watching all your riches witches burn)

(Remember me not for the mess I’ve made/But who I could have been/Finally I’m going home)

World On Fire, This is a Call, The Reckoning, The Wind That Shapes the Land, and Louder Than Words. Switched the order up a bit so it makes more sense chronologically, because the message ‘sent by forces beyond salvation’ has to get there before the reckoning can begin.

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(I see your face, find peace of mind/Between the madness and the sadness and the fire burning/The end of war, the great divine/We’ll see the day of reckoning)

(Search within/Uncover the will to win/Turn against the tide that washes o'er/Find the strength to fall and rise again/Open up the gates, unleash the force/I am the wind that shapes the land/Old as time and twice as strong/Oceans arise at my command/I alone can carry on)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

#i am dark matter; your road to ruin #dm playlists #guess who spent two hours on this! again!#as usual!#long post #i'm teaching in the morning and it's one am #oops

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