#to have someone in power be so unwaveringly supportive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chrisevansgoodgirl · 3 years

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my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam

summary: second part to the andy barber sugar daddy fic

warnings: smut, choking, hair pulling. that sugar daddy shit. angst, someone else asked for angst so blame them for this really

word count: around 10,160

pairing: andy barber x reader

a/n: part 1 x imagine, halloween with andy barber. i could die. anyway, i was him from the power puff girls this year, what were you guys?

Andy wasn’t your boyfriend.

You may have been the younger one in the relationship, but that didn’t mean you were naïve or delusional. If there was anything traditional that he was, it would be a friend. Yes, you guys had sex—disgusting sex that you couldn’t tell your other friends about without feeling like you were blushing from your head all the way down to your toes—but it was more than that.

It wasn’t romance, it couldn’t be. So, it had to be friendship. Trust, communication, common interests—ignore the physicality. So, yes, you would call Andy your friend and you hoped he felt the same.

You guys talked. A lot. He’d grown comfortable enough with you that he would text you if he couldn’t sleep, and if you were awake, you called him. It had been happening for a few months and you found that you loved these conversations. You loved all time spent with Andy, but these were special. You loved it when you were curled up in bed, listening to his deep voice get just a little deeper, heavy with exhaustion that he couldn’t satisfy with sleep.

These were the times when he let you in more than he probably should have.

Two nights prior, he’d called without texting. He’d woken you up, so you figured it was important, and it wasn’t like you truly minded. You’d made the decision to finish your last year of school online, to make yourself more available for one Andrew Barber, an insatiable lawyer that always made your toes curl. It simply wasn’t a point of stress for you.

He told you that he was going to have lunch with Laurie. They were arguing about where Jacob would go after he finished high school. Laurie wanted to get out of Massachusetts, move to Oregon where she had some family. You knew Andy intended to die in Massachusetts; he loved his home and he didn’t want to leave it for anything. It was quite the situation. Honestly, he just needed to talk to someone, and you were happy that he let you be there for him. Even though you knew you couldn’t help, not really.

He was terrified of losing Jacob, and it was coupled with this bitterness that came from knowing that if he was still married, this wouldn’t be a conversation at all. But it was a conversation, and that was a point of stress for you.

If Jacob did decide to go, you were afraid of how Andy would take it. You were scared that it would change everything about him. You didn’t say any of that, though. Instead, you were there to be unwaveringly supportive—Jacob would never! He loves you! He loves this place! But you honestly had no fucking idea what Jacob felt—you’d said maybe twenty words to him the entire time you’d known Andy.

So, come the day that they were set to meet, you were a nervous fucking wreck. You’d been trying and failing to calm yourself with Netflix and cookies. When Andy texted you, you swore you were going to have a heart attack.

Instead of news, he informed you that your history textbook was in his office. Again. It was never a big deal when you left things over there because you were over there often, but this wasn’t just any normal day, was it? You had an idea and you couldn’t let it go. You’d typed out the text seven times and erased it six.

I need it. I’ll be over in a minute.

Are you sure? I could drop it off later.

Need it now. Essay due soon.

I could send a car for you.

Andy.

Okay, sorry. I’ll see you soon.

Still, he didn’t like making you drive. You pretended that it was a tad annoying, but fuck no, it was not. Your life without having to drive was nearly limitless. Running late and still haven’t done your makeup? Do it in the car! Wasted time with Andy before a huge deadline and every minute counts? Homework in the car!

You put on a matching pink lace set, and a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt over it. You didn’t bother with makeup or brushing your hair—you just wanted to see him. It had been three entire days since you’d last seen him in person and nine since you’d been at the Barber house—it was due to a case, of course.

You found him waiting on the porch for you. You jumped into his arms because you wanted him to know that you weren’t liking all this distance. He held you so tight that you thought he might not let you go.

He kissed your head. “I know it’s been a while, baby.”

You pulled away, arching an eyebrow. “It’s been three days since you fucked me.”

Smirking, he glanced at the phone in his hand. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Why, not at all,” you argued, feigning innocence. “I’m here for my history textbook, I told you that I needed to write an essay. It’s due Friday.”

He nodded. “Then you don’t want distractions.”

You shrugged halfheartedly. “That would probably be for the best…but I could be convinced otherwise, if you had something in mind.”

With another smirk that was so Andy, he confidently reached down and pulled you up by your thighs. You instantly wrapped yourself around him, basking in him carrying you inside his home to his bedroom.

He set you against the door as soon as he closed it. Your shirt was gone before you could blink, and his mouth was all over your neck and shoulder. You shuddered, surprised by how much you had missed his beard. He leaned down and your bra was the next to go, his mouth claiming one of your nipples.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him there as your back arched for the door. “Daddy, that feels good.”

He switched to the next and his hands began working your pants out of the way. He pulled them from your skin slowly, fingers lingering at your hip bones for a moment, and you had to suppress your shiver. He shoved the denim down and got on his knees before you, his gorgeous blue eyes looking up at you.

Shit. You were sure you looked wrecked and bewildered as you stared down at him where he was sitting on his heels, hands clasped around your hips, mouth waiting to taste you. You leaned down to touch his face, kiss his forehead, over his nose, his cheeks. “Daddy, please, I need to feel your tongue inside me.”

“Against the door,” he ordered. “Hands at your sides, now.”

You obeyed quickly, legs rubbing together at the dark tone he was using with you. You weren’t sure but you liked to tell yourself that tone was reserved for you. You could never ask, of course. You just had to delude yourself into believing whatever reality was best for you.

His fingertips slid down, lace panties getting caught along the way. As soon as your pussy was exposed to him, his mouth was on you. He kissed you all over, small teasing touches that you couldn’t get enough of because they were so completely Andy. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and he stared back and made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want you looking away.

The tip of his tongue slipped inside your entrance and you shook. He knew how to eat your pussy, but he was a man who didn’t like wasting time. More often than not, you missed out on that blissful feeling of his tongue inside you, in favor of focusing all his attention on your clit. You had no complaints, but you would die to feel his tongue like this.

You hissed, “daddy, fuck.”

He pulled his tongue out to lick over your clit several times, but he soon returned to dipping in a little—just to taste you, just to keep you frustrated. You shook and spasmed against the door pathetically, trying to keep your gaze on him the entire time.

He pulled back only to tell you, “grab my hair and ride my face, princess.”

You somehow managed to peel yourself off the door to oblige. Your fingers locked onto his hair tight because that was your only source of support. Your hips rolled slowly at first, clit brushing his tongue, but mostly just his beard. By the time you had found your footing, your body moved without any instruction from your brain. You did exactly as he asked, you rode his face, you used him. The noises he made, the ones that vibrated against you, were an indicator of how much he enjoyed it.

When he knew you were close, he took hold of your hips and shoved you into the door. It was his turn to take over and he did so enthusiastically. He rose onto his knees, lips sucking your clit mercilessly through all your screaming and pleading. As soon as one of his hands disappeared from your hip and he pressed his fingers inside you, you were coming.

He didn’t let you down easy. No, instead he told you to hold your arms against the door, over your head. Once you had listened, he positioned your legs over his shoulders and continued letting his tongue run through your sensitive pussy. Your body jerked with aftershocks and he didn’t care, he watched you with eyes that told you he had zero sympathy. He wanted another orgasm out of you and he was going to get it, no matter what.

It was rough, he built you up so high, he wound you so tight. Mere moments later, you crashed, snapped. You were shaking, whimpering, crying out for him. His attention never left you, eyes eagerly eating up every expression that crossed your face, repeating the touches that made your mouth drop or your teeth pull at your lip.

He pulled your legs onto the floor carefully, standing hurriedly to catch you. There was no way that you could stand on your own. You were the one that turned away, falling against the door for support, still a little fuzzy and a lot satisfied.

He set himself against you, arms around your waist, and you pressed your ass back, teasing his erection over his pants. “Baby…”

“Are you gonna fuck me, daddy?”

He hummed shortly, unsure. His hand was spread out, flat to your stomach, one of those little reminders to how big he was, how strong. He pulled you back a little harder and you rolled your ass like a good girl. He sighed gently, turning his head to kiss the side of your face.

“Please, fuck me.”

“You want daddy’s cock?”

“I need your cock, daddy,” you corrected. “Fuck me hard, make it hurt. Stretch me out, use me, use my cunt, fill me up with your cum, daddy, please. Three days is too long.”

He growled, “God damn it.” He kept a good hold on you even as he was pulling his pants out of the way. After some shifting, he used one hand to spread your pussy and you shivered when you felt the head of his cock touching you, sliding through until his shaft was flush against you. His thrusts were hard, a promise of what was to come, his hips crashing against your ass, the tip teasing and pushing and spreading the arousal that was still dripping from your cunt.

He pressed in, you felt every second of the tip of his cock stretching you out, he was so slow about it. Then, he pulled out and went back to running his length up and down your slit.

“Daddy,” you muttered. “Please, daddy.”

He grabbed your ass, pinching until you yelped. “Be patient.”

“I’ve been patient,” you felt inclined to remind. More than patient. Three days? Three god damn days? How had you not gone insane?

“Keep talking back,” he challenged. “I’ll make you wait longer.”

That was the last thing you wanted and the last thing he needed. He needed you, you had the great honor of being the body Andy was going to use to forget his problems for a moment or two.

“Did you say something?” he pressed.

You refrained from huffing about it, but you did roll your eyes. “I said I’m sorry, daddy.”

Once more, his cock pushed into you. It was a bit more than before, but not nearly enough, not even half his length. He pulled out once again and resumed that tortuous teasing of letting you feel the shaft of his cock sliding over and over.

“Daddy,” you whined. “We don’t have time for you to do that.” He had an impressively long cock, if he were going to give you a little more each time, it would take the entire night.

He scoffed. “You’re not wrong…but I haven’t made you wait for it in so long. I’ve been spoiling the hell out of you. That’s why you’re here, distracting me when I need to be focused.”

“Make me wait tonight,” you bargained. “Right now, you need to fuck me. Don’t you wanna feel me coming on your cock, daddy?”

He took your hands, pulled your arms up completely and pressed them flat against the door. “Keep them there.”

“Yes, daddy.” Your body was pressed flat until he grabbed your hips and pulled you toward him. Your back was bent at an uncomfortable angle but the noise he made at the sight of you was sufficient consolation.

He felt over your ass before he pushed it up until you were just on your toes. You knew your calves would be sore for days after he was through with you.

His tip pressed against you again, slowly sliding into your pussy. Given how close your legs were, it created a tight fit that had both of you making a lot of noise. As his hips sat flush against your ass, he took his hands and let them roam, forcing them between you and the door to squeeze your breasts painfully. He felt your pussy clench when he pinched your nipple, so he did it with the other and kept doing it as he began to fuck you.

It was slow but so hard, so angry, frustrated, desperate, scared. Everything that had been on his mind for the past few days, those things that stopped him from spending time with you, he was trying to fuck all of it out of his mind.

The door was moving with you, something you felt more than heard over all the noise you were making. Your nails pressed against the door painfully, but you couldn’t make yourself stop. You were so close and he was too, you could tell when his hips began to move erratically.

“Is daddy making you feel good, princess?”

“So good, daddy,” you promised breathlessly. “I’m close—”

“Just wait a second, baby. Be a good girl and wait for daddy.”

You whimpered, knowing in seconds you were going to be filled up with his cum. You were going to get to drive home with it dripping out of your cunt. Each time he thrust back in, he hit that spot deep inside you, the one that made your body spasm, the very one that made you see stars.

He pulled out so suddenly and turned you to face him before you could voice your complaint. He picked you up without warning, simply pressed you flat to the door, set his body so deliciously close to yours, buried his head in the bend of your neck, and started fucking you again. He was grunting into your skin, holding you tight enough that you would bruise.

All you could do was cling to him, a stupid, weak attempt to keep him there forever. You didn’t want to have to leave, you didn’t want him to have with Laurie, you didn’t want him to be upset.

“Daddy,” you warned. You felt him nod gently.

“Come for me, baby girl.”

Only seconds later, you were tightening around him, hips stuttering as you tried to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing more. More sensations. More Andy. This triggered his release and soon, you were held against the door as he slowly, gently rolled his hips.

He kept you there for a long while, just breathing, thinking, silently standing together. You didn’t want to move, so you stayed still and quiet and waited for him to break it.

He kissed your collarbone. “Thank you.”

You ran your hand through his hair, sighing a tad shaky. “Don’t thank me.” As this continued, you knew you would need to instigate the separation. He had things to do, you had things to do. “Andy,” you said softly.

“I know,” he promised. “Just a little longer.”

You wouldn’t argue with that, couldn’t because he was perfect and you were obsessed with his skin, his body, everything about him. You would hold onto him for as long as he would let you.

You weren’t Andy’s girlfriend.

There were things you liked about that and then things you fucking hated. He hadn’t told you what happened, he hadn’t said a single word, and you weren’t allowed to ask. That much was clear. He canceled on you that night, told you he had a headache and when he heard the disappointment in your voice, he told you he wanted you to focus on your homework. He ended the call claiming that he would reward you later.

He might have rewarded you. Thrown some jewelry at you or something, but it didn’t feel the same this time. It didn’t matter at all because it shattered this illusion you had about the amount of trust you two shared. You hadn’t thought it was a large amount to begin with, so reality informing you that you were going overboard, it sucked.

He’d only let you pout about it for two weeks before he stopped indulging your bratty behavior—but those two weeks came after an entire week of not seeing him, so you felt justified. It started simple and he probably would have let you get away with it longer had you not continued to push it further and further.

You simply weren’t doing things that you were supposed to be doing. He wanted you to text him when you woke up and when you were turning in for the night. You stopped texting him in the morning after the fourth consecutive morning text that he didn’t directly respond to. You hadn’t noticed it, honestly. Normally, you would text him something along the lines of ‘good morning’ and he would respond almost immediately. Unless he was busy, so you hadn’t been too caught off guard when it happened the first three times. He’d texted you later in the day, just to make sure you were okay, but nothing beyond that.

So, the fourth text didn’t say good morning. It said ‘I miss you. How have you been?’ And he didn’t respond again. He texted four hours later and told you that he was just given a case that was a big deal. That didn’t seem odd. He always told you which cases he got, which cases he wanted and were hoping for if another DA was taken off.

The next morning, when you were about to text him, you didn’t like the feeling in your stomach. You didn’t like that it felt like that was him telling you that he was going to need more space. Fine—he could have space. You were an adult and you could take him needing space, he should have just come right out and said it. You hated that he was treating you like an overly emotional child who couldn’t be told the truth. So, you didn’t text him.

But you were too scared not to tell him when you were going to bed, not until the sixth day. He sent you a bag. A fucking bag. He thought that was a sufficient apology for pushing you away. He ended up calling you at two in the morning and you just let it ring. You sat there, watching, not at all itching to answer. Though, you did want to hear his voice.

You had decided to deal with it in the morning. He called twice more, and you knew that if he had called just once more, you would have answered. You didn’t like how you were feeling. You didn’t like how the bag made you feel, how the secrecy made you feel, how you felt not taking his calls, not getting texts from him.

It was confusing, but also black and white. You knew why you were upset, but you were lost on what you were supposed to do. You were helpless, and you hated yourself for letting this become more than it was supposed to be. He was your fucking sugar daddy, why did you even care if you weren’t seeing him? He was still putting the money into your account. So, why did it matter?

Your solution was to act like not texting him wasn’t a big deal. You could tell he was concerned because you never did that, but you tried to brush it off. He told you it was, and as nice as Andy was, he let you know in very certain terms that it better not become a habit.

Meaning your tactics had to change. Your texts were cold, if you sent them at all—minus the obligatory morning and night messages that you decided were not going to be the hill you died on. It was like he had become aware of your existence again, he would text you throughout the day and ask how you were, ask what you were doing, ask if you needed anything. You responded about thirty percent of the time and the answers were all the same. You were fine. You were doing nothing, or maybe cleaning, maybe homework, maybe you were about to work out and you couldn’t talk. And no, you didn’t need anything.

That must have been hard for him to hear. He liked spoiling you, he liked showering you with expensive gifts, but the bag must have been the only hint he needed. He scaled way back, sent you flowers a few times, cupcakes here and there.

After three weeks of not seeing him, he called and said he wanted to take you to dinner. You didn’t entertain the idea of saying no. You were tired, you figured it would just cause something huge, so, you were going. He told you what to wear.

You didn’t. You wore what you wanted, or well, just the opposite, of what he told you to wear. He’d wanted to see you looking sweet and delicate because he truly missed that. He missed his sweet girl, blushing when he kissed you everywhere, or just clinging to him like you couldn’t get enough of him. You decided to wear black—a funeral was fast-approaching anyway, you assumed.

He took you home after dinner because you claimed you just didn’t feel well. You claimed you were stressed about school, that midterms were coming up and had a few things that you needed to spend a little extra time on. He didn’t argue, he just kissed the top of your head and waited until you were inside before driving off.

It was smaller things after that. Wear a jacket. Don’t wear those shoes, you know you can’t walk in them. Get some rest. Don’t eat chocolate chip cookies for breakfast. Anything he told you, you would proceed to do the opposite. Sometimes, you didn’t make it known to him. It was just you trying to regain some type of power that you were lacking.

You knew that this behavior had him completely baffled and to talk about it was an invitation to talk about everything. If you managed to ask him something before he asked you and he didn’t want to answer, that would set a tone that you could also withhold information from him as well. He knew he was tight rope walking with this, so he was going to continue without trying to solve anything until he had the full solution.

Which, apparently, came to him on a dreadful Sunday morning—the fourth Sunday, as a matter of fact, after you had gone to his house to fuck him all so he would feel less stressed; if you sounded bitter, good, you were.

He called—and woke you up—and you answered it because he never ever called in the mornings. “Hello?” You quickly sat up in search of another device that would tell you the time.

“Be ready in an hour.”

“What?” you sighed. There was no panic in his tone, so nothing bad was happening. In fact, he didn’t have that ‘we need to talk’ Andy tone either. “Why? Andy, I’m sleeping. Haven’t you been telling me to sleep more lately?”

“Changed my mind,” he explained. “An hour.”

“Andy,” you huffed, “I don’t feel well.”

“Are you sick?” His tone changed from that firm, non-compromising one he had been speaking to you with since you stopped behaving to an overly concerned one that made you heart ache just a little.

“No,” you blurted out. Because then he would come over and you didn’t want that. You didn’t want him picking and choosing aspects of this relationship. It was all or nothing. It was an equal arrangement meaning essentially just a relationship with the added, little rules he put in place for your continued income, or it was just a sugar baby, sugar daddy thing and he didn’t get to take care of you. Ever.

“Then what’s the problem?” he pressed.

“I…I’m just tired.”

“I’ll get you coffee.”

You weren’t getting out of this, not without a fight. And as much as you were backing away right now, you didn’t want him to leave you. You didn’t want a fight because you were sure that he would leave. For real and for good.

“Okay…what should I wear?”

“Something simple. We’ll be outside.”

“Eww.”

He scoffed. “Leave the attitude in your apartment, understood?”

You very much understood. You knew that he knew this was different, that was why he wasn’t reacting with sex. He knew something was up and you could either just drop this and let things go on or you could push and push until he broke and resolved the issue—the issue probably being you. “I understand.”

“Great, see you soon.”

Jeans, sweater, no makeup—he said simple. When he came up to your apartment, he was also dressed simple but looked a hell of a lot better than you. And he was wearing a white sweater, any fight you had left in you was right out the window.

He didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his arms around you and held you against him. He kissed the top of your head briefly before tucking you under his jaw. He was good at making you feel bad. You didn’t like being mean to him. You didn’t enjoy it, no matter how upset with him you were.

So, you apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You scoffed. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “But I am curious…”

“I just miss you sometimes,” you claimed. “And I try to create distance because I hate missing you. I guess I just don’t want to get used to seeing you every day, it’s hard to adjust when you’re busy.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He tightened his arms around you. “It’s my fault, there’s no excuse for not making time for you.”

“No, it’s fine. You have a family—”

“I have an ex-wife and a son that’s legally an adult.”

“You have a job.”

“I have you,” he insisted. “And you are so fucking beautiful. Anyone in this world would call me an idiot for not getting every second I possibly can with you.”

“Ugh,” you buried your face in his chest, “stop. Where are you taking me?”

“Oh, right. Well…” He took your shoulders and pushed you away slightly. “I know you’re a little weird about spending time with me…when I’m with Jacob.”

“Andy,” you warned.

You must have looked so panicked because that man had the audacity to laugh. “Listen, you like Halloween, I like spending time with my son. Additionally, I like spending time with you and vice versa… In short, we’re going to a pumpkin patch.”

You slowly narrowed your eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“I don’t want to…force myself into his life, Andy.”

“I know. He knows. Trust me.”

“You promise he won’t be upset? You don’t have a lot of time and you spend most of it with me, I don’t want to take you away from him. Ever.”

“Baby, he’s eighteen. He doesn’t want time with me.”

You scoffed.

“I promise he will not be upset. I asked him almost fifty times just last night, in total, it’s probably three times that.”

The car ride wasn’t silent, but it was quiet. You didn’t talk much because Andy and Jacob were, all you did was watch the trees. You didn’t get out of town much and as beautiful as most parts of Massachusetts were during the fall, there was something particularly comforting about the areas outside.

Upon arriving, in mere minutes, you discovered how popular Andy was. He was stopped every few seconds by someone new, some people that you had seen around town, others that you had not. It was probably the seventh time when Jacob tapped your elbow with his and nodded you off to the side.

You followed mostly out of curiosity. Jacob was like his father in many ways. Particularly, you noticed that they were both…if you were being kind and not too blunt: detail-oriented. Because of this, Jacob needed to find the perfect pumpkin and he didn’t want to stand around while his dad was talking.

You tried to help but it was clear after a few suggestions that you were not as serious about this as Jacob. You’d only ever been to a pumpkin patch once before and you had been beyond drunk. “So…” you began after an extended amount of silence, “Last year of high school.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it…fun?”

He scoffed. “Fun?”

“I don’t know, man. I didn’t finish high school.”

“Really? My dad says you’re smart.”

“It just wasn’t for me,” you explained. High school sucked, the people sucked. College was way more in line with your interests—less rape culture, more educated discussion. That sort of deal. “Got my GED and then started college when I felt like it.”

“Oh… Well, it’s okay. Has its moments, I guess.”

“So, are you going to college?” You were not trying to be sneaky. You were just trying to talk to Jacob because it was clear that this was something that Andy felt was important. If you found out some information that had yet to be shared with you, fine. But that was not why you were talking to Jacob.

“I applied, I’m just not sure yet. My dad wants me to stay here.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, understatement.”

He smiled a little. “We could be going to the same school.”

You lifted your eyebrows at him.

He smirked. “Come on, that’s kind of funny.”

“It’s kind of weird.”

He laughed.

You glanced back to make sure Andy wasn’t lingering. He so would. “Look, I’m not asking you this because of your dad. I’m just nosy—do you want to go to Oregon? I mean, personally, I think there’s something wrong with anyone if they want to leave Massachusetts for Oregon!”

“Right?” he scoffed. “It’s insane… I’m sure I’ll stay. My whole life is here. Maybe it doesn’t need to be in Newton, but this is where I want to settle down, I think. Get married, have kids…my childhood was perfect. I just hate that my mom is going.”

“Right, yeah…that sucks. I’m sorry.” You pointed to a pumpkin and he gave you a pitiful look. “So…does your mom, like…know…”

He lifted his eyebrows. “About you?”

“Yeah…”

“A bit. I mean, she’s asked me some questions even though I didn’t bring it up to her. Questions I couldn’t answer because I don’t know anything about you…”

“Yeah…yeah, sorry, that’s my fault. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m kinda glad my dad is dating again. I didn’t think it was ever going to happen. But my mom dated, like, six months after the divorce was finalized, probably before that.”

You couldn’t imagine how much that had hurt Andy. You hated even thinking about it. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her, though.”

“Probably not. Some people get married because they just want to, but I think my parents thought they were going to be together forever.”

“Yeah, I get that feeling whenever he talks about it.”

“He likes you, though—”

“Oh, my god,” you blurted out. Now you were uncomfortable. “We do not need to talk about this.”

“I’m just saying, it’s cool and I’m not uncomfortable. And you didn’t hear this from me…but I think my dad is going to ask you to move in.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. “He’s being weird…I don’t know how to explain it.”

Okay, that was completely not happening. After all this time, him pushing you away, the absolute last thing he was going to suggest was that you live with him. No, no way, Jacob was mistaken. Maybe Andy had another sugar baby that Jacob was thinking about. That would make more sense than him asking you to move in.

Absolutely not.

Jacob found his perfect pumpkin and listen, you loved Halloween, but they all mostly looked the same. When he figured you had no “vision” when it came to this, he took the liberty of finding you the perfect one and then another for Andy. Since Andy was still being the most popular man in Massachusetts, that left you and Jacob carrying all three pumpkins to the car.

Your grand plan was to set the pumpkins on top of one another, he would hold one, you would hold another, and if you guys just stayed together close enough, you wouldn’t drop the one in the center. When Andy found you, you both had given up and were covered in dirt from having fallen several times. You were sat on the ground, facing one another, the pumpkins between you two as you spoke about favorite scary movies.

The drive back to the house consisted of Andy talking about his favorite horror films, most of which neither you nor Jacob had heard of. That was the setup for the movie nights that occurred nearly every night up until Halloween. Which you knew would make Andy possibly the happiest man in Massachusetts.

Spending time with Jacob wasn’t as scary as you had convinced yourself it would be. He seemed to like you a little, at least enough that he didn’t mind you dating his dad. He also seemed a lot more willing to share things than his father was, which you never took advantage of. Anything Jacob told you was unprompted and only in response to you sharing about your life after he’d asked you to.

Which was how you found out about…a lot. There was always this gap in Jacob’s life that Andy never spoke about. Ever. You’d realized it early on, maybe from years thirteen to sixteen. You had thought it was weird but of course, you weren’t going to bring it up. And still, you wouldn’t bring it up to him that you knew about some things he probably didn’t want you knowing about.

Andy knew how to spoil you during this season and not in the traditional way. It was probably a reward for getting along with Jacob so well, but when he told you that he was taking you to the Halloween store and that you could decorate his house, it was better than most things he’d given you.

Jacob was amused because apparently, they didn’t decorate for Halloween beyond a few pumpkins. So, all while lecturing Andy about the importance of decorating for Halloween and how the holiday was going to die out if people didn’t fucking decorate, you both made up the front yard. You insisted on spiders, everywhere, on the yard, on the house, in the trees. And against Andy’s strongest wishes, you wanted animatronics. There were creepy, laughing zombie-children and your absolute favorite, a doghouse with a dog that jumped out if motion was detected. Andy had forgotten that a couple of times…and would promptly glare at you after he was given the reminder.

But even though he pretended this was nothing, that this was just him indulging you, he was happy with how happy you were. It had been quite a while since he last saw you smiling or laughing, save for the few pictures of you he’d managed to take and liked to look at on days you gave him nothing of the sort.

On the night of Halloween, Jacob had plans. A party, Andy told you. You arrived when Jacob was leaving, and had no idea what his costume was supposed to be but you didn’t want to ask because you were sure he would just make a joke about how you were spending too much time with his old father.

Andy had long ago established one major rule. You weren’t allowed to text when you were with him. It wasn’t so much this weird thing where he was forbidding you from something you wanted, it was more that he was paying for your time and he wanted to be present. You didn’t think it was crossing a line, so often, you obliged.

Tonight, however, he was anything but present. He didn’t mind that your friends were filling you in on the party that you had to miss, he didn’t start any conversations, and most of your attempts were met with, if anything, short responses.

You were on the floor, sitting with your legs lengthened out under the coffee table. Andy was on the couch, staring at the television screen, or the wall maybe, but you could tell he wasn’t seeing anything. Well, there was one thing he wouldn’t miss from a mile away.

“Stop eating candy, you’re not going to want dinner when it gets here.”

That was = the most aware thing he’d said all night. You glanced at him as you sneakily tried to toss another bite-sized Snickers into your mouth without him noticing. He did notice and gave you one of his tired, lawyer looks.

Scream, that was your pick, and you were sure he hadn’t paid a single second of attention. That was just about enough for you. You set your phone on the table and crawled to Andy. He eyed you almost suspiciously as you grabbed onto his arm and used it to pull yourself onto the couch. You draped your back over his thighs. “Pay attention to me.”

He scoffed, brushing his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m so distracted tonight. I’m just thinking about Jake.”

“More about Oregon?”

“No, not that. He’s just…on a date tonight. His first date, actually.”

You sat up, staring at Andy incredulously. “His first date? He’s eighteen!”

“Yeah…I don’t know, there just wasn’t a lot of time for it before. He was…pretty busy for a while.”

Right. You just nodded and settled back against the couch. All things considered, Jacob was a fairly normal kid. And Andy was a fairly normal dad, save for the part where he was around and liked his kid—but by perfect, television terms, he was fairly normal.

“What?”

You looked at him, shrugging. “Nothing, I’m just…surprised. I mean, he’s your son, so he’s perfect. He’s a complete sweetheart—”

He shrugged. “Girls that age aren’t interested in that.”

You snorted. “Oh, they aren’t?”

“You aren’t.”

“You are sweet.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m not a religious person, but sometimes, after the things I do to you, I’m sure hell has to exist. If only for men like me.”

“You’re sweet after,” you reminded.

He pulled you back down, setting your back to his legs again. He began touching your face, tracing your cheekbones, jawline, your lips. “I think I like taking care of you. A lot.”

You hummed. “Is that what this is? Jacob’s too old, so you’re coping with an empty nest by getting a sugar baby?”

“I guess.”

You laughed. “Most men just get a dog.”

He gave you a look. “You asking me for a dog?”

“No!” you scoffed. “Andy, don’t. You know if you tried to get me just one, you’d bring home an entire shelter.”

He took one of your hands and kissed over every knuckle. You couldn’t stop watching his lips, the way they pursed just slightly. “You know, we’ve almost been doing this for a year.”

Not entirely, but close. Very close. The holidays always went by so fast; you were going to blink and suddenly, it would just be here. But you hadn’t forgotten what Jacob had said, it was usually on your mind because you needed to be ready to stop him before he as much as mentioned it.

No, you didn’t suddenly believe Jacob, but you were terrified. You were constantly worried about losing Andy and this would be a guaranteed quick and messy end. It couldn’t happen. You scoffed. “A year? Soon enough you’re going to have to trade me in for someone younger.”

He smiled a little, it wasn’t sincere. He didn’t want that comment, he wanted something else. He wasn’t sure what, nor were you.

You sat up, averting your gaze to the screen. Neve Campbell was being chased by a murderer and you still would have traded spots with her in that moment. “A year’s not really that long.”

“Longer than most people with our…arrangement.”

“Yeah, probably.” It wasn’t like you would know. You didn’t have friends who did this, you didn’t do it before Andy. You just went in blindly, which you were now realizing, was stupid. You should have set more boundaries; you should have been more careful.

“You want out?”

Your head snapped back to him. “What?”

“I’m just asking.”

“No, I don’t.” You were irritated that he would suggest something like that. Had you done or said anything that would make him think that? You were sure the answer was no. Because that was the last thing you wanted.

When it came down to it, what you wanted was this. Exactly this. You wanted to stay. Right in this spot, right in this date, right in this dynamic. If nothing ever moved, you were sure that you and Andy could be just fine forever. But soon, time was going to take its toll on the two of you.

“Do you?” you pressed.

“No,” he promised. “Not even a little.”

You turned away again, crossing your legs and turning just slightly away from Andy.

“Hey.”

You were so done with this night; it was not turning out at all like you’d hoped it would. It was Halloween—why all the emotional bullshit?! Couldn’t you both just sit down and watch a fucking movie?

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to him again.

“I don’t,” he insisted. “You are so god damn beautiful. I would be out of my mind if I wanted out. You know how I feel about you…and if you don’t, if you need the reminder, let me know right now, I’ll show you.”

You shook your head, taking his arm to wrap it around your shoulders. You leaned into him, curling up in a ball and getting as close as you could. “I don’t need a reminder, just…don’t ask me that.”

“I just want to make sure I’m giving you everything you want.”

“I’ll let you know if I want out.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of your head.

You laid your cheek on his shoulder, looking up at him. “Who’s Jacob out with?”

“Her name’s Sarah. She’s sweet…she’s been a really good friend to him over the past few years.”

You smiled. “Yeah, he mentioned her.”

He hummed. “Well, aren’t you two getting along quite well?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, you’re least attractive when you’re so smug. Obviously, we’re getting along. Our star signs usually do.”

He smirked. “So, what else has he told you?”

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged. “I’m just wondering. You don’t want to tell me?”

“No, that’s not it…it just doesn’t matter, not really. It doesn’t change anything for me.”

Andy’s gaze moved forward, toward the TV once again but still not watching any of it. “He told you about the murder.”

“A little. Just…the basics. He didn’t know I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine, it’s his right to talk about it. I’m sorry, I wasn’t keeping it from you, if you had asked me about it, I wouldn’t have lied.”

“Well, I never would have,” you admitted.

He looked at you. “You can.”

“It doesn’t matter, Andy.”

“I was scared, I guess. That you would have a different opinion than the court.”

“No,” you promised. Not possible—not with Jacob, not with Andy. “I trust you, Andy.”

He kissed your head again. “I know, I’m just paranoid. Believe it or not, though I’m not very good at it, I do want you to feel comfortable asking me about my life, including all the boring parts before you. I want you to feel like you can talk to me.”

You scoffed only because the reality of it made you feel awkward. “Okay…I do.” That was probably the first time you ever completely lied to him. You bent the truth sometimes, but never as much as this.

If he didn’t believe you, he didn’t say it. Instead, he just leaned into you and kissed your temple.

Okay, tension aside, you did miss him. You liked hanging out with Jacob, he was funny, and it always made Andy so happy, but wow, you missed him fucking you. To create boundaries, you rarely spent the night on movie nights, only when it reached AM hours and you knew Andy wasn’t going to let you drive home. But on those nights, you merely slept next to each other.

It had been a while. Something he was obviously feeling as well, proven by the hand sliding up your bare thigh.

“You ordered food,” you reminded. And yeah, you were just trying to play hard to get. You wore a skirt; you honestly hadn’t thought he would last this long without fucking you.

“Don’t care.” His hand continued but instead of touching you where you needed him to, he abruptly grabbed your hip and jerked you up so he could position you on your knees.

You pressed your hands to the arm of the couch, trying to quiet your breathing. Maybe this night could be salvaged.

Hands on your hips, he let them roam over your body as he pressed himself to your back. He kissed your face again before whispering, “What does my good girl want?”

“Your cock, daddy, please. Just fuck me.”

He hummed. “You don’t want me to take my time tonight—?”

“Please, no,” you whined. “It’s been too long, daddy.”

He reached down and you felt him shoving his pants down. “You remember what you did last week?”

So…you might have been feeling particularly bratty one night. You’d ended up heading to bed before Andy because he had some emails he needed to respond to before the weekend. In waiting for him, you got bored. You stripped completely naked, got yourself off, and then went to bed. You knew damn well he was going to be able to smell it when he walked in, and it wasn’t like you tried to hide that you were naked. Then, you were gone before he woke up to punish you for it. You hadn’t spent the night since then, intentionally, of course, and he knew it.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t remember.”

He scoffed. “You don’t remember trying to tease me?”

“I don’t remember that,” you insisted. “I would never try to tease you, daddy.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, an exhausted sound because if there was anything that you were down for at any given moment of the day, it was teasing Andy.

You turned over your shoulder, looking at him with the most innocent eyes. “If I did, I’m sorry.”

For a split second, it looked like he wanted to believe you, that he wanted to believe that you were as innocent as you looked. Then you smirked and he remembered that there was not an ounce of innocence in you. Rolling his eyes, he delivered a half-hearted smack to your ass.

You yelped in surprise, turning forward again to make sure you had a solid hold on the couch.

“You’re lucky I ordered food, or I would spank you until that apology was sincere.”

Oh, you could stop while you were ahead, but… “Daddy, if you ever spank me and I apologize, it’s not sincere. I just want you to fuck me.”

He was silent for a long time, probably shocked by your boldness. “Baby girl…”

His tone was full of warning, you should have been scared, but… You bit your lip to stifle your laugh.

“Baby,” he tried again, sounding just about completely fed up with your shit. He set both hands on your ass and you startled, that was when he knew you were just playing with him. You knew who was in charge and it was not you, not when you were here. “You’re not going to be able to walk after I’m done with you.”

Anything you wanted to say was instantly forgotten when he pressed his fingers to your core. You let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into the couch.

He started to run his fingers in soft, agonizingly slow circles around your clit. He didn’t say a word as he coaxed you toward your first finish of the night, not until you were almost. “You gonna come, baby?”

You hummed unintelligibly. “Yes, Daddy.”

Instead of letting you, he pulled his hand away and folded his body over yours. You could feel his cock against your leg, so deliciously hard. He circled his arm around you, sliding his wet fingers into your mouth.

He took no time before he shoved them in too deep, hitting the back of your throat. You gagged but he continued to press his fingers in more, more, more, until you were choking around them. “I love that sound, baby girl.”

He kept his fingers down your throat as he started to press his cock into you. You eagerly spread your legs as wide as the couch would allow, silently pleading for more. Slowly, he fed you his cock by the inch, you were shivering, high and mindless. It was when his hips were flush against yours that your arms gave out.

This angle was new, a new sensation, a new stretch. You had missed Andy, his touch, the looks he gave you when he fucked you, the looks he gave when you had your mouth or hand around him. But that ache you felt between your legs long after he pulled out, that was one of your favorite things, one of the only things that could comfort you when your mind wouldn’t stop overanalyzing every little thing about Andy.

You pressed the side of your face to the arm of the couch and he began thrusting hard. His free arm curled around your hip, fingers seeking out your clit. You were instantly back at that high, wound-up place, body screaming for an orgasm. His fingers slipped over your skin clumsily because of how wet you were, but well enough that your body was arching and your eyes were rolling back.

You only knew Andy was close because he pulled his hand from your pussy and grabbed a handful of your hair. He yanked you back until you were standing on your knees, your back to his chest. You cried out for him, a sound muffled by his fingers still sliding back and forth along your tongue.

“Touch your clit, princess,” he directed, voice so soft and so quiet.

Your hand shot to your cunt, messy swipes around your most sensitive skin. His cock was pounding into you, hard enough that you could barely keep your hand pressed to where you needed it.

When he hit that blissful spot, made the bright spots appear behind your eyes, you started to suck on his fingers. You did whatever you could to stifle the pathetic moans and pleas that would be falling from your lips if your mouth weren’t so preoccupied.

The noises of him pushing and pulling, his cock driving up as deep as possible, filled the room. You hummed around his fingers, he pressed his mouth to your shoulder and groaned. You were both so close, so painfully wound up and eager to come.

Once you tightened around him, it triggered his finish. Though he moved erratically, he never stopped, even as he began to sit back down and brought you with him. His thrust turned slow, almost soft as he pulled his fingers from between your lips.

You thought he would undress you, finally lay you down and take his time—but no, of course not. He let you sit on his lap, but one thing was clear, his cock was going to stay inside you until he wanted.

He gabbed your jaw and turned your head back to him, lips sweetly pressing against yours. There was no urgency in his movements—he kissed and touched you slowly, like he had all the time in the world for it.

You were confused why he kept you there, at least until the doorbell rang. Then, it became clear what he wanted from you. He got you onto your feet with both hands on your hips, enjoying the way his cum was already spilling out of your pussy.

“Go answer the door, baby.”

You gave him a wide-eyed look. No, no way.

He nodded. “Get the door, gorgeous, I’m not going to tell you again.”

You were humiliated as you walked to the door on shaky legs. The man delivering your pizza probably had no idea why you were so red and why you sounded like you just ran a mile, but it was still mortifying. With each second ticking by, you could feel his cum dripping onto your thighs.

You couldn’t sleep.

After Andy fucked you, generally, you slept like a baby. This time, your mind was too busy despite your body being utterly exhausted.

It was raining, you could hear the steady patter on the roof of the house and the porch by Andy’s bedroom. He had suspected it would so he brought in the animatronics because he knew how upset you would be if they got damaged. You liked that about him, that he was so practical. You never would have thought to do it yourself.

You went to the kitchen first, just to get some water and more candy without Andy’s judgmental gaze. You checked the driveway to see if his car was back, he’d let Jacob borrow it. You didn’t understand how Jacob was so well-behaved—he was 18, yet still had a curfew. Those Barber men were a different breed.

The moon was out, shining bright enough that you could see most of the backyard. You sat on the floor in the doorway of the back, listening to the sound of the rain. It was comforting enough that your brain finally stopped moving. For a moment, your relationship wasn’t so scary, you didn’t feel like everything was about to go wrong. The rain was falling heavily, once it hit the pavement, it splashed back onto your skin.

Andy found you after almost an hour, immediately fussing about what you were doing. “Baby, you’re going to get sick.” He wrapped a blanket around you and closed the door. “What are you doing out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He sat down next to you, leaning close to adjust the blanket around your shoulders. “Everything okay?”

No, not really. This had been coming for a long time and there was no reason why it shouldn’t happen tonight. “Everything’s fine… I’m just wondering, what happened with Laurie?”

He was quiet for a long time, contemplating something. “Well, I’m pretty sure that Jacob wants to stay—”

“Yeah, obviously. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know until recently.”

“Okay, then why didn’t you tell me that? That’s what the attitude was about, Andy. It wasn’t only that I missed you. It was that you told me about it at all and I didn’t ask you to, I wanted you to, but I did not ask you to let me in like that. That was your choice. Then, I come here and let you fuck me and then you don’t tell me what happened. It felt like you didn’t want me to know, like I was only important to a very certain extent.”

“I didn’t want you to feel that way at all—”

“Then why?”

“Because I said something I didn’t mean.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“To Jacob and Laurie.”

“About me?”

“No, not…entirely. I was scared, okay? I thought he wanted to go. So, I told him that if he wanted to, then I would go, too.”

You only sat there for a few seconds, dumbly staring at him. Then, you were on your feet and throwing the blanket onto the floor. You weren’t mad, not initially. It was that gross fear feeling that you’d been experiencing far too often for your liking lately. That was what made you angry. “What the fuck?”

He looked exhausted as he stared up at you. “Baby—��

“Don’t.” He was not going to start using pet names and talking to you in those deep tones just to get you to forget about this. You’d never felt disposable to Andy before that moment, but now you did and you couldn’t just get over it.

“I did not mean it.”

“You did,” you accused. “You didn’t tell me because you meant it and you thought Jacob wanted to go. You were going to leave, and you weren’t planning on telling me that you wanted to leave—”

“I did not and do not want to leave—”

“But you were going to. Willingly, you were going to move to Oregon. No one was forcing you to move, Andy! You’re the one that offered it. I’m sure Laurie didn’t want you to go and Jacob wasn’t considering it, because moving out of this state is just insanity, but you were going to because no matter what, at the end of the day, it’s all about you holding on to this idea of your perfect fucking family.”

“That’s not what I was doing.”

“You have a job here, a fucking house, but you would just pack up and leave because your ex-wife and your adult son want you to. That’s a problem, okay? That’s completely unstable for me. And I need stability.”

His eyebrows shot up. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m just saying that we did this wrong. We should have been a lot stricter about what we were. We got too comfortable with one another, and we should have kept it more professional. If you had left, I’d be completely fucked. You just made this huge decision, and that’s fine, it’s your life, but you didn’t tell me.”

“Because I did not mean it,” he repeated slowly, finally standing up so he could reach out to you.

You shook your head, turning away from him. “Don’t.”

“Stop making this a big deal.”

It was a huge deal, that he didn’t see that was utterly frustrating. However, you were done. You had to start being practical. This was anything but. Continuing with the relationship at this point was just stupid. You couldn’t do it anymore. You would have to be an adult and go back to acting like one — the job, the pills, all that bullshit.

He sighed. “Baby girl, please—”

“I’m going home,” you announced.

“No, you’re not,”

You took a deep breath before you looked at him. You’d made up your mind and the finality was clear on your face. “I’m going home, Andy.”

“Don’t do this.”

“I need some space.”

“Please.”

“I have to go,” you decided. “I’ll see you around.”

His eyes widened slightly at that. Around? No date? No time? That was all you were offering, and he knew that it wasn’t just space you were asking for. He wasn’t worried about your ability to keep it going, he knew he was going to wear you down eventually. But how long would that take?

He didn’t want space. He wanted the exact opposite, he wanted you so much fucking closer. He wasn’t sure why you were doing this, why you were pulling away, but you weren’t going to budge tonight. Any attempts he made would just be added to his debt. He longed for the earlier times when he could just buy you off.

tag requests: @donutloverxo @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @onetwo3000 @youwilllove

#andy barber x reader #my writing

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sokkastyles · 3 years

Text

I saw a post today that used this excerpt from The Earth Kingdom Chronicles to try and twist Azula trying to capture Zuko and Iroh as “see, she cares about them! She thought that serving tea was beneath them and wanted them to come back to the Fire Nation!”

And aside from the fact that her goal of imprisoning them kinda puts a damper on the claim that she cares...even if she did “care,” what her thoughts about seeing her uncle and brother like this actually show is a deeply classist attitude, which doesn’t exactly drum up sympathy for Azula the way the post I saw seems to think it should.

I’ve written before about Azula’s classism which is shown in particular in her interactions with the Dai Li, and her belief in inherent right of rulership, which is also shown in how she feels about Zuko. I’ve also talked about the symbolism of tea and the necessity of Zuko’s tea shop arc in helping him to become the kind of Fire Lord that the world needs, a Fire Lord dedicated to serving and working with the nations to build peace and unity instead of trying to destroy them.

Azula’s brand of rulership is not only inherently prejudicial and destructive, it is incredibly selfish. That’s why she’s so repulsed by seeing her uncle and brother willingly stooping themselves to serving tea. And what’s more, they are serving tea to the king of a nation that Iroh once sought to conquer. This is made explicit in the show.

Iroh: Many times I imagined myself here, at the threshold of the palace. But I always thought I would be here as a conqueror. Instead, we are the Earth King's personal guests, here to serve him tea. Destiny is a funny thing.

Zuko: It sure is, Uncle.

Even Zuko, who struggled to let go of his own classism, at this point has embraced the simple life of servitude, and it’s Azula who is in the position that Iroh was in before the series began, the position of conqueror of Ba Sing Se.

This is shown symbolically through tea (the tea is symbolic!) when, in the scene before Azula’s confrontation with Zuko and Iroh, Azula is shown drinking tea that Ty Lee serves her, as Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai discuss the conquering of the city and Azula’s control of the Dai Li.

The way Azula treats the people closest to her is a microcosm for how she sees herself in relation to the other nations, as a conqueror. And Ty Lee, especially, she treats as a loyal subject, even though Ty Lee is also Fire Nation nobility. Ty Lee pours the tea but Azula is the only one in this scene drinking it. And Mai is there to support Azula’s belief in her inherent superiority, joking about her control over the Dai Li. In the excerpt from “The Tale of Azula” shown above, Azula’s thoughts about the Dai Li also expand upon the idea that she believes that they are unwaveringly loyal to her and this is how it should be. It’s interesting that she does not think about the possibility that they might betray her, since they betrayed Long Feng, but as I said in my post where I analyzed her interaction with Long Feng, Azula’s belief in her born right to rule gives her power over Long Feng, and she also believes that she has this power over the Dai Li, that they are her servants.

There’s also an interesting parallel here with Zuko and Iroh going undercover as refugees in the Earth Kingdom and Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee going under cover as Kyoshi warriors to infiltrate the city, and declaring themselves “the Earth King’s loyal servants,” while secretly planning a coup, which is successful. Zuko and Iroh actually end up embracing their disguises, while for Azula, it was only ever a means to an end, and her loyalties and perspectives on the other nations never changed, as well as her belief in her own superiority.

This is why Azula is so repulsed by seeing her brother and uncle as tea servers. The Fire Nation believes in its own ethnic superiority, so by that logic, Zuko and Iroh are ethnic traitors, lowering themselves to the position of “inferior” peoples. I don’t think that I have to do much to explain that this is a villainous and deeply troubling perspective, and one that has parallels in our own world.

And that’s why it’s also important that Zuko’s (and Iroh’s) journey towards becoming a better person involves serving others. What Azula thinks is a weakness is ultimately what becomes one of Zuko’s greatest strengths, and this is reinforced by the climax of these characters’ arcs, in which Zuko defeats Azula not through a feat of brute strength on his own, but with the help of someone who he considers an equal (and the seeds of that relationship are, interestingly, planted in this very episode, unintentionally, by Azula.) These are all the things that Zuko learned from Iroh, that there is no shame in admitting weakness, that true humility is in fact the only way to get rid of shame, and that there is nothing wrong with letting other people help you, nor is there flaw in helping others. (This is also shown in his apology to Katara, which is something Azula would never do, which leads to Zuko’s eventual gaining of Katara as a friend and ally, which leads to Azula’s defeat.)

In this scene we also see Azula casually dismiss Iroh’s wisdom as “a lengthy anecdote” that she doesn’t have time for, but it actually turns out to be his strength. AND it involves tea! I also love Zuko’s smirk right before Iroh does his “Dragon of the West” thing, because Zuko knows what a badass his uncle is.

Even so, it’s a defensive move that allows them to escape (almost) rather than the kind of brutal attack that Azula would favor. The kind of power that Iroh has is deceptive and is only used in defensive situations, and that’s also part of the legacy he passes down to Zuko that Azula dismisses as “soft,” but Azula’s inability to understand the value in softness is ultimately her downfall.

#zuko #azula #iroh #ty lee #mai #the dai li #crossroads of destiny #atla meta #the tea is symbolic

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plague-of-nice · 3 years

Note

2, 4, 7, 10, 12, and 16 for the Bad Boy F/O Asks? :)

[ ask game ] Hi, Natlyia! Thank you so much for the asks <3 I'll answer for the secret F/O I've been keeping for a while... Balthazar (mostly bc He's the only truly bad boy F/O I have, and I figured this specific ask game would suit him.)

My answers got long, by the way, which is why I opted to put everything under the cut.

2) What was the hardest part of forming the relationship?

The realization of getting the hots (pun intended) for a fallen god of war and fire...the one who once swore to reduce the world to ashes in his crusade for revenge, was the first and significantly difficult step on my s/i, Jonah's, behalf. There's very obviously lots to unpack thanks the catastrophic destruction Balthazar has already caused, which was then also very abruptly halted just because she came into the picture. No normal mortal would ever be prepared to shoulder that kind of baggage.

It had its rocky beginnings, especially from the struggle to realize what exactly their relationship was and what Balthazar's true intentions were with her, but things somehow work out in the long run. All it really took was the vengeful god getting harshly humbled, and perhaps a foolishly open-minded mortal sticking by him and picking him up from his slump.

4) How easy was it for them to admit that they love you?

It took a good long while and it's not a huge surprise considering Balthazar's entire character.

He used to pour his attention to the mortal that interested him in rigid ways early on, only treating her as a vessel that empowers him. But after a good while of having to act, and being treated, as her equal while they travelled in hiding together, he would eventually find himself feeling and thinking things he never really had before. And surprisingly, he's very blunt about it with Jonah.

7) Do you keep the relationship mostly private out of fear or for other reasons?

In character/universe, both Jonah and Balthazar went into hiding and laid low all thanks to the aforementioned destruction caused. That's never easy to bounce back from, but the fallen god will give back to the world by helping out with the bigger threat, an Elder Dragon. (Which is...quite ironic considering that was the same dragon he once wanted to leech magical power from.)

Out of character, I was (and still am) quite afraid to be honest about the fact that I like this character. He is commonly detested and dismissed in the fandom for his character, and he's also widely outshined by the charming antagonist that came right after him.

10) Have they changed for the better since they met you? Have you changed for the worst since you met them?

He changes for the better, much to the surprise of many. He still retains a good chunk of his knack for violence and he's still prone to act brashly with his short temper, but he mostly drops his destructive ambitions for the world and chooses to become content with what (or to be more accurate, with who) he has.

12) Were you actually attracted to their behaviour? Or was it other things?

Partially, yes. I liked his character in a general sense, how unwaveringly uncaring he was, and how big of a bastard he turned out to be when he was supposedly revered as a "righteous bastion" kind of god.

I also completely fell the moment I started to project the qualities my Ultimate F/O, Jane, into Balthazar.

16) Are your friends supportive or mostly worried about you in this relationship?

Ultimately supportive!

There was room for critique both narratively and IRL, but honestly I'm just very relieved nothing too bad has happened thanks to having a character like Balthazar as an F/O.

In-universe, it's hard to tell, even after his first big step to redemption. The people who knew Balthazar and what he did in the past as a vengeful god are certainly more worried and scared. There's a long road ahead of him to become better, but he's willing to try now that he has someone to support him through it.

#joie answers #thank you again Natlyia!!#ive never felt 'i am cringe but I am free' as hard as I do now #im honeslty super happy just getting to talk about [Redacted]

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analysingfiction · 3 years

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Why Deku is a Slytherin

I think Deku is one of those characters that can fit into all the houses pretty well. That’s why choosing which house he’d be sorted into was so hard for me. Most people would automatically jump and say he’s a Gryffindor because he’s brave and because he’s the main character. There’s also the horrible stereotype that all Slytherins are inherently evil which is just not true at all. So I’m gonna go through each house and explain how he suits each of them and end it with Slytherin and why I think he suits that house the most.

1. Gryffindor

“Gryffindor values courage, bravery, nerve, and chivalry.”

I don’t think anyone can deny that Deku is very, very brave. He constantly puts himself in danger to defeat villains and safe people and is able to stay calm in those scary situations. Not to mentions he doesn’t give up or run away when it seems like he’s going to lose, instead he keeps going giving it his all. This is the true definition of courage. He is able to fight even when he’s scared (first shown when he tries to save Bakugo from that villain while he was still in middle school). The definition of nerve is: “a person's steadiness, courage, and sense of purpose when facing a demanding situation.” And he fits that perfectly. Deku has an intense sense of purpose (geared towards being a hero and saving people) and he follows through unwaveringly. Chivalry means: “courage, honor, courtesy, justice, and a readiness to help the weak.” Obviously Deku is more than ready to help the weak, that is literally his dream in life. And he has stated about the situation where Bakugo was captured by the villain that his legs moved on their own, like he didn’t have any other choice but to help and despite him crying out of fear (not to mention he was quirkless) he kept fighting. He also tends to bravely sacrifice himself to save others (putting himself in danger or wrecking his arms with his quirk). But notice, all of these traits valued by Gryffindor essentially mean the same thing, and this is only one personality trait of Dekus, a person cannot be defined simply by the fact that they are brave.

2. Ravenclaw

“Ravenclaw values intelligence, learning, wisdom and wit.”

No one questions Deku’s intelligence. This is never directly stated as much as with the whole bravery thing but it’s still very evident. On their midterms, Deku placed #4/20 (bellow only Momo, Iida, and Bakugo). His exam scores aren’t the only thing to show this however. Whenever he fights anyone we’re shown his internal monologue which usually consists of him thinking of on the spot clever solutions (like the way he beat bakugo in the heros vs villains training exercise). He is able to quickly adapt to situations that aren’t favorable and think of the best possible solution that is realistically executable. He does this in basically every fight he ever has. The way he placed first in the first round of the sports festival is another great example of this. He managed to place first not by using his quirk but by thinking things through and seeing the right path. As for learning, it’s made clear to us from the scene where he first appears that he values learning very much (at least if it’s something he cares about, like heros). We see him writing down notes on the battle the pro heroes were having. He’s also known to have had multiple notebooks that he takes with him everywhere and is constantly updating. He even jots down information of other students in the hero course. And when he’s observing the other students he often does his iconic mumbling where he’s thinking out loud about the best way they can use their quirk or how the battle will turn out etc etc. There isn’t much to say in terms of wisdom. He’s only a kid. But despite that he does seem pretty mature when compared to the other UA kids and he seems to have sound decision making and knows how to avoid mistakes. The only times we see him making “mistakes” is when he ends up wrecking his arms to save someone and Aizawa scolds him. However, I don’t think this is a matter of wisdom but rather of priorities. Deku values lives over his own well-being and makes the choice to sacrifice himself. Wit means “mental sharpness and inventiveness; keen intelligence.” I think this presents itself best in his quick thinking during battle, which I’ve already covered. He thinks fast and comes up with solutions no one else would have thought of, including the enemy himself which is why it’s always so effective.

3. Hufflepuff

Hufflepuff values hard work, patience, justice, and loyalty.

I think it’s quite obvious that Deku values hard work. A prime example of this would be how right before All Might gives Deku OFA he starts training him so he can withstand the power and so he is able to do better on the UA entrance exam. Deku works extremely hard in these moments, so hard in fact that All Might has to lecture him about why working too hard is bad. Still, Deku managed to not only meet All Mights expectations, but he exceeds them (he cleaned up the entire beach including parts All Might hadn’t told him to). This is show even early, though it’s done so subtly, but spending so long researching heroes and writing everything down was his form of working hard while quirkless. And after, when he gets into UA, he continues to try his best at everything he does and work harder than anyone else (floating chair exercise, or whatever it’s called, throughout the entire class). Part of this is probably due to the fact that since he was quirkless for so long and now he can’t use his quirk as well as he’d like to, he feels he has to make up for it through hard work. As for patience, most people probably would have given up by now. It’s been quite a while since All Might gave him OFA and still he can only manage to use it at 8% of it’s total strength. Yet he perseveres and continues to train so he can get stronger. That takes a tremendous amount of patience. As for justice, he isn’t so much justive oriented as he is morally oriented. He seems to have a pretty clear moral code and he follows through on it. Though he clearly believes in the position of hero so as to counteract the villains which is definitely this worlds form of serving justice. However, I think it’s clear that a majority of the time, the reason he’s jumping out to fight and/or capture villains is to stop people from getting hurt. Think about the villain Gentle Criminal. Deku ended up saying he was the hardest to fight because he liked him. Deku admitted to liking a villain. There was also Hero Killer: Stain whom Deku clearly respected for his ideology despite still believing he should be arrested for killing people. So I don’t think Deku has a very clear cute, black and white view of what’s right and what’s wrong and what justice is, I think he just has his own personal morals that he believes are right but he also allows a lot of room in the grey area and it seems almost as though he sometimes doubts his hero-like actions. As for loyalty, Deku is obviously loyal to the people he cares about. One great example of this is the sports festival where he went up against Todoroki. He decided losing the match didn’t matter if it meant helping Todoroki come to terms with his power. He’s even loyal to Bakugo who has bullied him, severely might I add, for years. He never once stopped supporting him and that speaks a lot to his character.

4. Slytherin

“Slytherin values ambition, cunning, leadership, and resourcefulness.”

I think ambition is Deku’s most defining characteristic. Only someone very ambitious could go after his dream of being a hero (the #1 hero at that) despite being quirkless. It was his dream from when he was very little. The person he admired most and aspired to be like was All Might, the #1 hero. He always wanted the #1 spot and was willing to do anything to get there. Before he was given OFA he was STILL planning to apply to UA’s hero course and he had every intention of getting in despite everyone telling him there was no way he could without a quirk. Then, All Might gave him OFA and his ambition only grew. At that point he wasn’t keeping it to himself and daydreaming alone. He was willing to proudly stand up and confidently announce that he was not only aiming to be a hero, but for the #1 spot. His ambition is also obvious in the UA sports festival. The sports festival wasn’t a life or death situation and Deku already had All Might mentoring him so an internship wasn’t 100% necessary. Still, he just has a drive to win at everything he does. Another thing would be how Deku admitted to admiring Bakugo, his BULLY. He saw Bakugo as better than him and as someone who always rises to the top. It didn’t matter to him that he bullied him, he stayed close because he aspired to be like him and wanted to leanr by observing. His hunger for winning overtook the importance of his feeelings. And it’s kinda strange that Deku, who is really kind, would admire someone like Bakugo when there are plenty of other strong heroes in training. But that’s the thing, he didn’t care how nice Bakugo was, what mattered to him was that in his mind Bakugo was at the top, and he always aims for the top. Cunning means: “having or showing skill in achieving one's ends by deceit or evasion.” Now, it might be hard to think of Deku as someone deceitful, but think about his battles. One prime example would be the Heroes vs Villains training exercise where he went against Bakugo. He made Bakugo believe he was going to fight him head on and instead aimed his punch at the ceiling at the last second. That was deceit. This is a common thing for Deku when going against someone. It doesn’t mean he’s a bad person or someone who lies often. All it means is he has the ability to do so and uses that ability when he sees fit. As for leadership, Deku clearly has no fear of taking on a leadership position seeing as he aims to be the #1 hero and that is a LOT of responsibility. It’s also common for other students he teams up with to end up relying on him. He never claims the leadership position it just seems to fall on him a lot of the time and he accepts it without doubting himself and without fear. Uraraka has even stated that she didn’t want to team up with Deku because she felt like she always ended up relying on him too much despite knowing she herself was capable. This is shown when she declines his offer of a strategy against Bakugo at the sports festival. Deku is clearly confident in his ability and the others pick up on it and, even if subconsciously, they let him lead. Resourcefulness is also a trait Deku possesses. He makes use of his environment, like at the sports festival where he dug up the landmines to use as an accelerant for himself on the piece of metal from one of the bots that he took “because it might come in handy”. Everything about that scene is him being resourceful. He also does this when he went up against Bakugo and Iida when he told Uraraka what the plan was and they essentially used the building itself against them. And this is shown yet again in his fight with overhaul. He discovers what Eri’s power is and instantly makes use of it. Now, here’s why I think he suits this house more than the others. The main reason is that he fits all of the Slytherin traits perfectly of course, but also, a lot of the traits he fits from the other houses can be explained away with Slytherin traits. For example, his Ravenclaw trait of thirst for knowledge could really be attributed to his ambition to be the best, this goes for the Hufflepuff trait of being a hardworker as well. We don’t really see him work hard or try to learn more about anything that isn’t related to being a hero. The Ravenclaw trait of wit could also eailiy be cunning instead. He also HAS to be brave to achieve his goal and we all know, if you aren’t liked by people then you can’t be the #1 hero, hence why being loyal to people is so important… right?

Again, this is all just my opinions and I would never claim this was all factual, it’s just my perspective.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #deku #midoriya izuku #harry potter #hogwarts houses #anime #deku is a slytherin #slytherin #slytherin deku

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miraculouscontent · 5 years

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You mentioned a one-sided reveal for the LadyBugOut AU. I’m both intrigued and apprehensive about how that would go. I also would like to know how Master Fu feels about all this in regards to Chat Noir/Adrien. You mentioned that he wouldn’t be very supportive of a ChatNoir blog but not much beyond that. If it would help to break up this post into two separate ones that works for me, I just really want your thoughts on my thoughts.

Well, by this point, you guys know that Chat yelling at Ladybug ended up being live-streamed.

Fu heard it, and he... wasn’t very happy about Chat’s behavior.

As Miraculous Ladybug spread over the city, Ladybug waved as the bee heroine whisked off the former akuma victim into the night.

This left only her and Chat, as the area they were in had been thoroughly cleared of people due to the akuma’s powers.

Ladybug glanced over at Chat, but he avoided her gaze. He’d been doing so ever since the “yoyo recording” (as people had been calling it) had been streamed for all of LadyBugOut’s followers.

Her followers knew it hadn’t been Ladybug’s fault. Even Miraculous Ladybug had been selective in its healing before. People were honestly happy that Ladybug’s powers were looking out for her.

But that didn’t leave Chat in a good position.

Ladybug sighed. It was fine. The lack of flirting had honestly been a relief; gave her more time to focus on the task at hand.

She could deal with it. She–

“Chat Noir.”

Ladybug stiffened, then jerked her head back. Standing only a few meters away from there was Master Fu, who was staring unwaveringly at Chat.

“Master?” Ladybug and Chat asked in unison.

They looked at each other–a first in a long while–then back to him.

Chat blinked. “Is something wrong?”

Master Fu said nothing, but he certainly wasn’t smiling. He glanced at Ladybug. “I’d like to talk to Chat Noir alone. You may go.”

Chat may not’ve seen it, but Ladybug noticed the way Fu’s eyes briefly darted over to a nearby alleyway. She got the message.

“Um–yes, Master.”

Ladybug turned, hopping off to the roof of the nearest building. She felt Chat’s eyes on her, but the feeling left as she disappeared among the rooftops.

When she was sure Chat had thought she’d gone, she dropped down into the alleyway Fu had directed his gaze towards.

“Tikki, spots off.”

Her transformation fell, Tikki taking form in front of her.

Slowly, Marinette peeked out of the alley, knowing it was safe since Chat wasn’t looking her way. Tikki followed suit.

“I don’t get it,” Chat said. “Don’t you usually visit me when I’m at home? Is there an emergency or something?”

“You could say that, yes,” Fu mused. He looked away, taking a breath, then glanced back at Chat. “Return the cat miraculous.”

“W-what?!” Instinctively, Chat covered the hand with his ring. “Why?!”

Master Fu closed his eyes, looking as though he’d expected this. When he opened them again, his gaze was stern. “Because I have clearly made a mistake in choosing a holder,” his voice lowered as he added somberly, “again…”

“B-but–” Chat shook his head, unable to process this. “–what did I do?”

Fu gestured to him. “That response is exactly the problem. You have been woefully oblivious to the feelings of your partner. You have neglected Ladybug and brought her into meaningless debates over your own feelings, whether intentionally or otherwise.”

Chat was clearly trying to remain polite around Fu, but his words fumbled out anyway. “What about Ladybug? Ever since she made her blog, it’s made me look bad!”

Fu just stared, unblinking. “That is not, nor has it ever been, Ladybug’s fault. All of this has been your actions and your actions alone. Do not blame another for what you yourself have done.

“Your life does not exist within the confines of what has been put online for everyone to see. The good that you do does not erase the bad, and whether or not the public has seen your behavior, I still cannot allow you to hold the cat miraculous any longer.”

Chat opened his mouth to protest. “I–”

It happened in an instant.

Fu reached out.

Chat jerked forward.

A bright green light engulfed Chat’s feet, slowly moving up Chat’s body. Orange and white shoes appeared where Chat’s boots once were.

Fu’s fingers closed over a ring that was slowly turning white. A black blur flew out, taking the form of a cat kwami.

From their hiding spot, Tikki whispered, “Plagg…”

Marinette could only watch, mouth dropped open as Chat’s de-transformation moved all the way up his body.

Adrien is Chat Noir.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

Fu said nothing as Adrien looked down at himself, then at Plagg, then back at Fu.

“I don’t get it,” Adrien said, a mixture of upset and offended. “I did–”

Fu held up a hand, silencing him. “I’m not finished.”

He sighed, looking regretful. “Admittedly, I gave you the ring because I wanted to give you a chance to be free. I saw what your life was like and thought that the ring would be beneficial to you.”

“It was!” Adrien interjected. “I loved being Chat Noi–”

“But, there is more to heroism than being an effective hero or even tending to the lives of civilians.

“You have to be able to communicate with your partner. You have to respect your partner’s boundaries.” Fu’s gaze hardened. “You have to be prepared to protect civilians, even if you felt you were being treated unfairly.”

Adrien straightened. “What–you mean–Syren?”

“Plagg,” Fu said, keeping his gaze locked on Adrien. “How did you feel as Adrien was about to relinquish his miraculous over a secret that was not yours to tell?”

Adrien looked up at Plagg, eyes practically begging Plagg to side with him.

Plagg didn’t. “I… I-I mean…”

“Plagg.” Fu was patient.

“…Pretty bad, yeah,” Plagg admitted.

Adrien’s face fell.

Fu continued, addressing Adrien, “I was willing to let you keep your miraculous then due to the perilous state the city was in. Ladybug trusted you wholly and completely, so I tried to do the same.

“However, it seems that Ladybug has been mistaken, or is at least too forgiving for her own good. A reckless cat is normal, but every time you have not thought ahead and been taken control of, you have left Ladybug to fight on her own.”

Adrien tried to speak up, but Fu talked over him.

“And yes, perhaps your love for Ladybug has blinded you, but ladybugs are not meant to be left alone, just as cats are not meant to be left alone. They are meant to work together, balancing each other in the act of creation and destruction. Miraculous Ladybug may heal the recent damages caused by the victims of akuma, but you chose to become distracted and allow Ladybug to take on the task of leader.

“Your downfall was seeing Chat Noir as a different person; someone that was free to do as they pleased. I gave you the cat miraculous to allow you to feel the freedom of the outside world, not to feel the freedom of having nothing affect the one underneath the mask.

“And even then, you have failed to be a hero as Adrien. I’m not aware of everything, but I know you have ignored poor behaviors and not stood up for the right people. You allow your relationships to blind you, leading you to neglect those you should be protecting.”

“Who?” Adrien asked, not even coming close to understanding. “I’m always trying to do a great job, with or without the mask!”

“Are you?” Fu challenged. “Or are you only enabling those with ill intent, in fear of inciting conflict amongst your peers? You remain passive and devoid of conflict as Adrien Agreste which only causes aggression as you transform into Chat Noir.”

Adrien’s mouth remained open, clearly in the midst of planning a response.

He had nothing. Instead, he glanced hopefully to his kwami. “Plagg?”

Fu remained patient, but his eyes were sharp. “Do not ask for sympathy from a kwami that is no longer by your side.”

Adrien recoiled at the command. He then threw his hands up, eyebrows furrowed. “Well, how was I supposed to know any of this?” he asked, clearly desperate and grasping for anything he could to save himself.

“When you were told. When you were shown,” Fu answered. “You react as things affect you or when they relate to you. When your partner is uncomfortable, you do not notice until you are told. You joke when it is a time for comfort. A hero is meant to be aware of the emotions happening around them, and you merely choose which emotions you pay attention to.”

The streetlight nearby flickered. Plagg said nothing, almost looking as if he knew this was inevitable.

Fu stored the miraculous in his pocket, then placed his hands behind his back.

For one final time, he met Adrien’s gaze. “My decision is final, Adrien Agreste. I hope you might one day realize the error of your ways.”

Fu turned, then walked the other way. “Come, Plagg.”

Plagg gave a fleeting glance back at Adrien, then followed after Fu.

Adrien stood there. Silent. Unmoving. He was like a statue.

The streetlight flickered again. Finally, Adrien looked to where Fu once was, then turned around, ready to go home.

His eyes locked with Marinette’s. She’d stepped out onto the sidewalk without thinking.

Adrien’s eyes went wide. His expression said it all: you saw that?

After an agonizingly long second, his mouth moved. “M…marinette?”

Marinette turned, immediately running in the other direction.

She didn’t look back, and Adrien didn’t chase her.

#((Strike three.))#((You're out... Adrien.))#MC's Collabs #collab: LadyBugOut AU #other: ask and answer #category: long post #word count: over 1000 #MC's Writing #writing: story

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cafedisco3 · 4 years

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BOY’S CRY

Before sharing his story with the world and becoming one of the most important artists of our time, Frank Ocean was a high school graduate in New Orleans scouring for jobs to pay for studio time to record his potential projects. In August 2005, Hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc across the region, provoking Ocean’s move from New Orleans to Los Angeles, California. It was in California that Frank eventually found his opening into the music industry. Landing a songwriting deal, he began ghostwriting for many of the biggest artists we know today: Justin Bieber (“Bigger”, 2008) and Beyoncé (“I Miss You”, 2009). In 2009, he started working with Odd Future, specifically Tyler, the Creator - one of his best friends, who played a pivotal role in encouraging him to continue writing songs, but for himself. Through Odd Future, Frank was able to meet Producer, Tricky Stewart who eventually introduced him to an American Record Label: Def Jam Recordings. Though this deal was meant to serve as his platform for releasing music, out of frustration he released his first mixtape, nostalgia, ULTRA, for free download on Tumblr. Frank explained that he was frustrated with the label for not being supportive of his efforts after signing. Regardless of the heightened tension in Frank’s relationship with the label, this mixtape ignited the spark of his fame to follow. Frank’s pilot success with this mixtape allowed his standing to grow tremendously, eliciting feature requests from A-listers such as Jay-Z and Kanye West, but for the most part, Frank remained highly selective with his craft and unwaveringly loyal to Tyler and Odd Future.

This origin story is only the tip of the elusive iceberg that is Frank Ocean. Since before the days of nostalgia, ULTRA, Frank has been selective with his public interactions. Once a ghostwriter for pop stars and then a secret weapon among Odd Future’s large roster, playing the background seemed to come naturally to him. However, the star within him proved too bright to contain. Still, since his rise in stature, rather than outwardly embracing the fame that was guaranteed, he chose instead to remain guarded with his art and protective of his image. Over time, this has allowed him to meticulously reveal himself on his own terms, using his art as a way to give insight into his identity. It was only when speculations about his sexuality began to circle through the hip-hop and pop community prior to the release of his debut studio album, channel ORANGE, that the once-guarded artist decided to become candid in a way he never previously attempted; on his Tumblr, through an open letter to his fans titled Thank You, Frank went on to reveal his bisexaulity:

Credit: http://frankocean.tumblr.com/post/26473798723

I don’t think I’m exaggerating in the slightest when I say that this letter was a beautiful, poetic exemplification of love. In typical Frank fashion, it wasn’t an overt admission of anything, because there isn’t anything to admit. We are who we are, and according to Frank, that is “human beings spinning on blackness”. According to Frank we are a lot more alike than we are different, regardless of our race, cultures or sexual identity. He chose to focus on what makes us all similar as humans, and if he revealed or confirmed something about himself that wasn’t clear to you in the process, then so be it. His sexuality wasn’t the point of the letter. The letter was about empathy and love. The letter was about being human. In an era were child-suicide rates were increasingly linked to homophobia and transphobia, especially in black and latino communities, Frank used his story to humanize those who had been historically demonized.

This letter birthed a chapter for Frank’s influence. When channel ORANGE arrived that following summer, these feelings of self-discovery through heartache and unrequited love reverberated all throughout the tracklist. The album itself was named after the summer detailed in his letter, the summer during which he first fell in love with another man. Frank dropping this album and his Thank You letter was powerful, valiant move. He cut through the lingering homophobia of the time and crafted a tale of perseverance and acceptance. This album allowed me, someone with completely different experiences, to appreciate his journey. He successfully detached himself from the increasingly materialistic world of the music industry and turned his art into statements that effectively captured the current state of the human condition.

There are two songs off of channel ORANGE that I believe are worth highlighting. The first is “Bad Religion”:

Taxi driver Be my shrink for the hour Leave the meter running It's rush hour So take the streets if you wanna Just outrun the demons, could you He said "Allahu akbar", I told him don't curse me “Bo Bo, you need prayer,” I guess it couldn't hurt me If it brings me to my knees It's a bad religion This unrequited love To me it's nothing but a one-man cult And cyanide in my Styrofoam cup I can never make him love me Never make him love me Love It's a bad religion To be in love with someone Who could never love you I know Only bad religion Could have me feeling the way I do

This is a story of longing, of internal conflict and crippling self-doubt. With no one to turn to, Frank resigns to confessing his deepest, most closely guarded truths in the backseat of a taxi, and his thoughts betray the confidence that many of his fans may have prematurely branded him with. These confessional thoughts instead show him in his most fragile state, one in which he seems internalize years of homophobic rhetoric. The stigma that homosexaulity or sexual fluidity is a sin, is amoral, and requires prayer and absolution is so deeply ingrained in society that Frank doesn’t even flinch when the taxi driver basically tells him to pray away his desires. Instead, he chooses grasp onto the suggestion, wondering if maybe he should find a way to detach himself from the unrequited love that has brought him so much pain - whether through religion or drugs. This song is a heart-wrenching discussion of the internal struggle felt by Frank throughout the journey detailed in his letter. Frank’s lyrics expertly navigate self-hate and heartbreak, and his execution features a stunning vocal performance that evokes a deep, soulful pain that feels universally applicable to all humans.

The second song of importance would be “Forrest Gump”:

I wanna see your pom poms from the stands Come on, come on My fingertips, and my lips, they burn From the cigarettes Forrest Gump you run my mind boy Running on my mind boy Forrest Gump I know you Forrest I know you wouldn't hurt a beetle But you're so buff, and so strong I'm nervous Forrest Forrest Gump My fingertips, and my lips, they burn From the cigarettes Forrest Gump you run my mind boy Running on my mind boy Forrest Gump I saw ya game, Forrest I was screamin' run 44 But you kept runnin' past the end zone Oh where'd you go Forrest Forrest Gump

If “Bad Religion” - and “Thinkin’ Bout You” before it - were subtle allusions to his bisexuality, “Forrest Gump”, the penultimate track on channel ORANGE, would be the unabashed coming out party. In this song, Frank beautifully covers the timeless love story from the film, Forrest Gump, but through Jenny’s perspective - one that he clearly relates to on a visceral level. In the movie, Jenny and Forrest don’t end up together - but neither did Frank and his love at 19 years of age. In a very literal sense, Forrest Gump is used as a metaphor for a man running away from Frank - referring to the different paths taken by him and the man he fell in love - and this story is another example of unrequited love. But it’s uptempo nature and Frank’s equally light singing paints it in a much different light than “Bad Religion”. Here, there is no self-doubt and he seems to believe the experience of the fling was worth it. It’s the bright result of having grappeld with his emotions throughout the album’s more dark spots. This is essentially Frank fully submerging into his new lifestyle that he explains in his letter as being “a free man”. Similar to his letter, Frank is grateful for the man he fell in love with, regardless of the outcome.

Despite this album being such a bold statement on his part, highlighting him as an artist that will stand the test of time, I’ve always felt as if its slow and melancholic vibes represent a shyer, younger Frank Ocean. Since releasing his letter and reinventing himself as a free man, the outward projection of his confidence has considerably escalated. Four years after channel ORANGE the fans were finally given a second and third album, simultaneously: Endless and Blonde. I personally cherished these albums, not expecting any new music for yet another few years, but just as I was getting used to the idea of no new Frank music, he released a single on his Beats 1 radio show, Blonded Radio: Chanel. Chanel was released in March 2017, and I can’t think of any way to describe the start of the song, besides epic:

My guy pretty like a girl And he got fight stories to tell I see both sides like Chanel

See on both sides like Chanel

The Undefeated’s online music review of this song describes these first few lyrics in the following manner: “The boastful first few bars of Ocean’s new song might be the coldest, gayest, and most securely masculine flex in the history of rap. Elegant and mellow, the song’s lyrics read as a deliberate ode to duality and non-heteronormative binaries - an ambition, that since the death of Prince Rogers Nelson, is sorely missed in black music”. Whether I’ve convinced you or not, I truly believe Frank Ocean is an icon. He has made tremendous strides through his music and personal life and his consistently made choices that have positively influenced millions. As a visionary and genius, he’s stood out not only as a singer, but as a writer, a visual artist, and an activist.

Credit: https://www.gq.com/story/frank-ocean-is-peerless

#frank ocean #blonded #chanel #bisexual #genrefluid #genrebending #innovative #inspirational #artist #visual #activist #singer #writer #bad religion #channelorange #boysdontcry #lgbtq+

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el-gilliath · 5 years

Note

Ok so I was thinking that I’ve read several fics where Liz is unwaveringly supportive of Maria and her having a relationship with Michael and so I just really want a fic where Liz tells Maria it was wrong of her to kiss Michael again without talking to Alex again and that she really hurt alex. It would also be nice if someone told Maria it wasn’t cool to out Michael to Liz. Thank your for being willing to write this for me!

Well, I hope this doesn’t completely disappoint! Thank you for the prompt!

The sadness is unwavering. She misses Max with a fierceness she hasn’t felt since… Rosa. Since ten years ago, when she lost her sister, her best friend, her most infuriating person. And now Rosa’s back, her sister ten years out of time, still as infuriating, if a bit tamer thus far.

But her new person, the man she might truly love, is gone. Dead, bringing back her first person. Because he loved her.

It’s too much on a good day, too little on bad ones.

She needs him back, works night and day with Michael and Isobel to help them strengthen their power so they can resurrect their brother, in between working at the Crashdown, helping Rosa come to terms with everything about the future, and making sure Arturo doesn’t blurt out that his daughter is back from the dead.

What she doesn’t have time for, is whatever is going on between Michael, Maria and Alex. She loves them all, adores the ground they walk on. But the mess they have made is one she wishes they would fix. She needs them, she needs Michael in the lab, she needs Alex behind the computers bringing Rosaline, the cousin, back to life, she needs Maria to help Rosa when she can’t. She needs her friends, Rosa needs her friends, and they need each other. All of them. Her and Rosa and Michael and Isobel and Alex and Kyle and Maria.

But Michael is so distraught and lost in between it all, Maria is trying to keep up morale the way she always had but can’t and Alex. Alex is so hurt, even if he pretends he’s fine and he’s okay with whatever goes on with his ex-... His Michael and his best friend.

“Why did you kiss him?” She doesn’t mean to ask, but it just slips. She’s so, so tired today, missing Max with every fiber of her being, wishing that she could have her two best friends and her sister close. But right now, she can’t.

“What?”

“I told you needed to talk to Alex. You really hurt him, Maria.”

Maria looks down into the bar she’s slowly wiping down, the way she’s been wiping it for 15 minutes in between stealing glances at Michael. Michael who’s sitting in a booth, staring soulfully into a glass of whiskey Liz knows contains acetone as well. But unlike other nights where Michael would drink it down, he’s just staring into it. When he’s not stealing glances at Alex and Rosa playing pool. Alex, who steals glances back whenever Michael isn’t looking, hurt in his eyes as he then turns his gaze on Maria

“You told me having feelings for him was okay too, remember?”

Liz catches Maria’s hand, holding it tight even as Maria doesn’t look up at her. “And it is. But you also told me Michael is Alex’s museum guy. His museum guy, Maria. The only guy Alex has ever told us about. The only guy Alex could ever consider staying in Roswell for.” She looks at Michael again. “I understand having feelings for him. But I don’t understand why you didn’t speak to Alex first.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have to get permission to like a guy, Liz.”

“No, of course not. But you wouldn’t do it to me.”

It strikes a chord in Maria, one so visible that Liz can feel her freeze, see the guilt and pain tumbling around inside of her. It’s a visceral reaction, one that despite Liz’s want to have them all back together again, makes her feel the slightest bit happy. Because no, Maria wouldn’t do that to her.

“What’s up with you, DeLuca? Outing my brother again?”

“I didn’t-”

“Yes, you did,” Isobel interrupts. “Maybe you didn’t think about it, maybe you didn’t mean to, but you still told someone he was bi without his permission. That’s outing someone.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“I know, you’re screaming with guilt over that too. But it still isn’t okay.”

Maria swallows, and Liz squeezes her hand. She’s happy when she feels a squeeze back. “Yeah. It wasn’t my place to tell.”

To Liz’s surprise, Isobel smiles. A slight smile, one that’s barely there before it disappears again. She nods before she leaves them to go sit down across from Michael. Liz watches her, a rush of affection she never expected to feel for Isobel Evans running through her. When she turns her gaze back at Maria, she’s surprised to see the same affection on Maria’s face. She doesn’t know when that happened, but she does know that Rosa had a sit-down conversation with both Isobel and Maria that she’s not in any way privy to.

But that affection quickly turns back into guilt as her gaze turns back to Alex, before it swings back down. Liz doesn’t know what to say to make things better though she knows the only way it can be is for Maria to actually talk to Alex.

“You need to talk to him, Maria. Before you destroy any chance of your friendship over a guy.”

“You mean before I destroy our friendship over what may be the love of his life.”

Liz doesn’t reply. She doesn’t need to. She knows Maria feels guilty enough, feels bad enough that she hasn’t talked to Alex.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t do it to you. And some part of me really wish I hadn’t done it to Alex. But I really can’t help if I like Guerin, either.”

Liz shrugs. “No, you can’t help your feelings. But you can help your actions. You never should have considered starting anything with Michael before you talked to Alex. Both of you.”

She ducks her head, catching Maria’s eyes and sends her the tiniest of smiles. “Talk to him, before you do anything else. Don’t ask him to be happy for you, he doesn’t deserve that. Just talk, please?”

Maria’s eyes turn to Michael, and Liz watches her watch him for a minute before her gaze swings back over to Alex. She can see the emotions flitting in Maria’s eyes, guilt, sadness, love, and lastly determination.

“I don’t want to lose either of them.”

“I know. But you will, if you don’t do anything. Maybe even both.”

Maria looks back at her, her eyes back to being filled with sadness. She doesn’t say anything, but she nods, lifting Liz’s hand up to her lips, pressing a short kiss to her knuckles in a gesture of gratitude Liz hadn’t seen Maria do since High School. Since long before Rosa died.

“Thank you.”

She didn’t need to ask what Maria meant. Maria did always appreciate honesty above anything else.

“De nada.”

#roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #prompts #answered #i cannot wait until january #i love you like it gracie!

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shinsoukokuvalentine · 5 years

Text

Heavenbound (7)

(You knew this wasn’t going to end well, didn’t you?)

Read the entire work on Ao3

241/365: Hallelujah

There was always a contingency plan. There had to be. He wouldn’t have survived this long if he hadn’t had plans. When life caught up with him, he tore it down and started anew.

So the Zelda had been littered with bombs from the very beginning.

Scrambling out the main door, Fitzgerald irritably presses every button on the remote in his hand, more explosions ringing in his ears with every push. Just because he had a plan doesn’t mean he ever wanted to use it. Behind him, his once beautiful ship lurches to the side with a mighty groan. Its lights flicker, and he can still hear the screams of the men he left trapped inside, inside with the tiger.

He frowns. Necessary casualties. He’ll find new ones, ones less careless, less volatile. A new Steinbeck, a new Twain, a new Akutagawa. He can always start over.

A sharp screech bursts from the other end of the pier. Fitzgerald whips his head up to stare into headlights, headlights which barrel towards him with a roar.

He jumps out of the way, staring at the black limo for just a moment before me makes a break for it. He runs, ignoring the sound of doors slamming open, bolting down the pier.

He hears the gunshot a split second before he feels it.

With a sharp cry, Fitzgerald grips his stomach and falls forward. Shaking, staring at his blood as it drips onto the pier, horror begins to dawn on him. Not like this , he thinks, shaking. It could end like this. It can’t end like this.

“Please,” he whispers, shocked at the quibbling sound of his own voice as barely manages to turn his crouched body around, staring up at whoever shot him. Illuminated by the limo’s headlights behind him, he stands mostly in silhouette, casually walking towards Fitzgerald, swinging his gun at his side.

“Please what?” The man asks, his casual tone sounding unlike a man who has just shot to kill. As he grows closer, Fitzgerald can make out his features more clearly; dark, wavy hair, tight jeans and a black jacket with a feathered collar. Like a black hole, his eyes seem to absorb all light.

“Please,” Fitzgerald murmurs again, the stranger only somewhat blocking the harsh light from the limo. Fitzgerald has to blink and squint to see because of it. “Don’t do this. I can give you anything.”

The man tilts his head. “Anything?” He asks inquisitively, and despite his pain, Fitzgerald feels his old smile work its way back onto his lips.

“Anything,” he says. “Money. Status. Power. At my right hand, everything could be yours.”

He expects this man to agree. He expects this man to be as gullible as every other man who heard that promise, blindly accepting his offer as grandiose, when truly, Fitzgerald could give away that much money in his sleep.

But to his shock and horror, the man doesn’t accept.

Instead, he begins laughing, and it’s a laugh Fitzgerald knows. It’s cold, the laugh of a man who has killed many times before and would easily do it again.

“Excuse me, sir,” the man scoffs, blowing a stray strand of dark hair out of his face with one last chuckle, “I don’t even know who you are.”

The last thing Fitzgerald feels is terror. The last thing he hears is the gunshot. The last thing he sees is his killer’s grinning face.

He wore that grin, once.

Ryuu coughs and groans as he wakes again, prying his eyes open, smoke filling his vision and lungs.

“Atsushi,” he rasps, struggling to his feet, looking around frantically. The balcony has crumbled into the casino, which has to burst into flames around them, pieces of the ceiling and equipment littered across the floor, smoke obscuring everything.

“Atsushi,” Ryuu calls again before vicious coughs overtake him, causing him to fall to his knees, entire body shaking with every cough. He reaches into his shirt and pulls out his watch, checking to make sure it hasn’t been crushed, but between his coughs and the sounds of the burning ship, he has to hold it to his ear to hear it tick.

“... Akutagawa.”

Ryuu’s eyes snap upward. Through the smoke, he can barely see him. Eyes fluttering open and closed, crushed beneath a beam, he can see him.

“Atsushi!” Cries Ryuu, crawling forward, dragging himself towards him. He’s human again; small, strong, gentle, ferocious Atsushi, who can only lets out a soft groan, eyes squeezed shut.

Filled with panic, Ryuu grabs onto the beam on top of Atsushi, trying frantically to pry it upward. Above them, he can hear another support beam begin to groan.

Ryuu looks up just in time to see it fall.

It crashes. The floor breaks apart beneath them. Ryuu cries Atsushi’s name, and they plummet down, down into the flooded engine room.

They land in cold water. Boilers have already combusted, littering the water around them with shrapnel. Ryuu struggles to the surface as soon as his limbs stop shaking enough for him to do so, but he’s suddenly stopped. Something pulls at his neck, trapping him to broken metal, his watch chain looped around it.

Despite the salt in the water, Ryuu’s eyes widen. His watch.

He grabs at the chain, pulling on it desperately. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing, think about his actions, or think about their consequences. He only pulls.

With an echoing snap, he’s flung backwards. With an echoing snap, the chain breaks. In the light of the flames, the golden watch glitters, sinking downward like a stone.

Ryuu’s heart drops to his feet. Frantic, pressure building in his ears, he swims downward, far slower than the watch’s descent. He can no longer see its shine.

Instead, something else glimmers to is side. Ryuu turns instinctively, still searching, but he freezes. Flowing almost gently in the cold water, Atsushi’s silver hair catches the fire’s golden light as he sinks downward. Eyes closed, he doesn’t swim, doesn’t struggle, and without thinking, Ryuu darts towards him.

Pieces of the Zelda crash into the water around them as Ryuu grabs Atsushi’s hand, running out of air as he struggles to pull him upward. With a gasp, he breaks the surface, pulling Atsushi up by his arms, who coughs as Ryuu frantically looks around for somewhere safe to put him.

All he finds is the broken remains of a table and a whole in the ship’s hull, leading out to open ocean.

Ryuu’s body moves before his head knows what he’s doing. Mustering every ounce of his strength, he shoves Atsushi onto the floating table, paddling it towards the door.

A sudden jolt of pain draws a cry from Ryuu’s lips. His eyes widen when he puts his hand on his chest instinctively and feels his watch’s absence.

Frantic now, Ryuu pushes Atsushi forward, to the rapidly shrinking hole in the hull as the ship sinks.

“You can make it, Atsushi!” Ryuu shouts, shoving Atsushi through the gap, watching as he drifts on the table into open water. “You can make it!”

Sharp pain cuts through his body again, and Ryuu casts one final look at Atsushi before he takes a deep breath and dives back under the surface.

More pain shoots through his body with every passing second. With every tick, the sound of his watch grows louder in his ears, despite its distance, its second hand growing slower and slower. He can’t see it.

The water silences Ryuu’s scream. He screams in frustration, in pain, in helplessness, bubbles pouring out of his mouth.

And then, every sound stops.

The watch doesn’t tick again.

“DAZAI!” Chuuya practically screams from his place in the car, leaning out the door as far as he can without falling forward onto the pier. “We have to get in there!”

Walking back to the car casually, Dazai glances up at the Zelda, the flames breaking out across its helm beginning to reflect on the ocean, only to extinguish as it sinks, painfully slowly.

“I don’t know about you,” Dazai says with a sigh, “but burning to death isn’t one of my favorite ways to die.”

“But Ryuunosuke’s in there!” Chuuya cries, and he struggles to move forward, but Dazai swiftly catches him.

“And we’re not,” he snaps. Barely able to be heard over the roar of flames, the creak of the ship’s hull, Dazai stares sharply into Chuuya’s face. “Neither of us will last a minute in there. Especially not you.”

Chuuya barely listens. Eyes wide, reaching out around Dazai, he frantically tries to push past him, even though he knows he won’t get far.

“You promised!” He screams, punching Dazai in the shoulder. “You promised you’d save him!”

Dazai says nothing. He simply lets go, allowing Chuuya to crawl out onto the pier, trying to pull himself forward. The gangplank burns and crumbles, impassable, but still he goes forward, shouting Ryuunosuke’s name.

He doesn’t notice Dazai until he runs past him, throwing his jacket behind him as he suddenly jumps off the pier. Eyes wide, Chuuya stumbles forward, barely able to make two steps on his own.

“Dazai!” he calls, grunting with the effort it takes to stay standing. “What is it? Is it Ryuunosuke? Did you find him?! Is he okay?!” His questions devolve into frantic cries as he staggers to the pier’s edge.

By the time he makes his way there, Dazai has begun to climb the flimsy metal ladder leading from the ocean up to the pier, hauling something, or someone, over his shoulder. Chuuya feels hope grow in his chest at the sight of a familiar small body, white shirt, and black slacks.

But silver hair catches the flames’ eerie light, and Chuuya’s hope withers as quickly as it bloomed.

Dazai practically throws Atsushi onto the pier when he nears the top of the ladder, grunting with effort. The weretiger quivers, unconscious, dripping wet but breathing, coughing water out of his lungs. Chuuya’s eyes dart frantically between him and Dazai.

“... Ryuunosuke?” He asks with a single word. Dazai takes a few deep breaths, not meeting Chuuya’s eyes for a moment, water dripping off his bangs and onto the pier, mouth hanging open.

But when he finally looks at Chuuya, he doesn’t look away. He meets his gaze solemnly, unwaveringly, and shakes his head once. Chuuya stiffens.

“No,” he murmurs.

He screams at Dazai, screams for him to go back, to find him, attempting to jump in the water himself a few times, but Dazai holds him down. The sounds of the ship burning and sinking into the ocean drown out his cries.

It feels as if he’s walking through fog. Thick, slimy fog that clings to every one of his limbs and drags him back one step for every two he takes. Traveling forward seems practically impossible, but he has to. That’s his only thought that pierces the thick soup surrounding him.

He has to see him again.

In the distance, something sinister calls his name. He knows it’s waiting for him. He knows it’s reaching out, dark claws stretching towards him, maw open wide and grinning. He can’t run forever.

His actions become slower and slower. Whatever calls to him follows him grows closer and closer, laughing now, unable to contain its glee at the thought of snagging him, of trapping him.

But all Ryuu wants is to see him again.

And with that thought alone, he finds him. He locks onto him, to his very soul, and sees him. Nested in an unfamiliar bed, he rests with the covers pulled tightly over his shoulders.

Still feeling as if he’s swimming, struggling forward, Ryuu reaches towards him. He stretches, straining against the voice and the fog but unable to move any further.

“Atsushi,” he whispers, pleads, intangible body not making a sound, pulling his hand back as the bed stretches further and further away, even though he stands still.

“I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t notice it at first, but in the distance, a light begins to form. It almost seems to sparkle, and when Ryuu finally sees it, he can only stare. It cuts through the fog, slicing through the darkness.

Ryuu’s pursuer snarls at it. He can feel it retreat, slinking back, taking its fog with it. And the light grows.

It nearly absorbs everything before it retreats suddenly, as if it implodes on itself, and immediately the fog is gone, and Ryuu stands in a dark room, Atsushi sleeping on a bed in the corner. He snores softly.

Ryuu stares at him. He looks down at his hands, watching moonlight drift through them.

He feels her presence before he sees it. He turns around, and the light rests in front of the window, slowly taking the form of a woman.

“Ozaki,” Ryuu murmurs. The angel nods, eyes shining softly.

“Akutagawa-san,” she says gently. Her kind smile looks somehow both sad and welcoming. “It’s time to come home.”

Ryuu watches her, brow furrowing. “But you said I could never go back.”

Ozaki gives a small, innocent laugh, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Akutagawa-san,” she smiles, as if sharing a fun secret, “you gave your life for him.”

Ryuu keeps his eyes on her for a moment longer, but as realization dawns on him, he turns to Atsushi once more.

“Come home,” Ozaki says again.

Ryuu takes a deep breath without breathing at all, unable to take his gaze from Atsushi.

“What about Atsushi?” He asks softly. Ozaki gives a quiet, sad sigh, her smile fading out of the corner of Ryuu’s eye.

“Say goodbye, Akutagawa-san,” she says.

Ryuu’s broken pieces break further. Lips pulled taught, he steps forward, moving towards Atsushi.

His intangible body makes no impression in the mattress, and his fingers pass right through Atsushi’s hair when he tries to push it from his face. His lips fall further, and he pulls his hand away, fingers curling together.

But then, Atsushi stirs. Ryuu’s eyes widen as his eyes open, blinking once, twice.

He takes in soft breaths and yawns. Afraid to speak, wondering if he can even see him, Ryuu says nothing, only watches as Atsushi stares forward blearily.

Slowly, his eyes move to look at Ryuu, and a spark of hope shines in them before quickly being extinguished.

“Akutagawa?” He says. Unable to muster words, Ryuu nods, and Atsushi smiles sadly.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” He sighs.

Ryuu frowns. He nearly says no, he nearly tells Atsushi he’s real, he nearly tells him how much simply being by his side is breaking him.

But no, he thinks. He stops. Atsushi won’t be hurt as deeply if what leaves him is merely a dream. So he nods, and Atsushi nods back.

“Thought so,” he says quietly, pulling the covers a bit tighter around his shoulders.

Ryuu can’t stand looking him in the eye any more, so he lets his gaze travel around the room, beginning to see furniture and walls he recognizes.

“This is Oda-san’s place,” he says. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Atsushi nod beside him, but he says nothing else.

Only when Ryuu looks down at him completely does he notice the tears building up in the corners of Atsushi’s eyes. Ryuu stiffens, and Atsushi lets out a quiet sob.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, burying his face in the pillow he holds tight to his chest. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Ryuu watches him with broken eyes. He wants so badly to touch him, to hold him, but he can’t. He can only watch.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says almost harshly, the smallest bit of his frustration seeping into his words. Atsushi shakes his head again, burying it further.

“That’s not true,” he whimpers. “I fell head over heels for you. I clung to you when you offered me the smallest bit of kindness. I thought you could fix everything and that if I just had you everything would be okay, somehow. And if you hadn’t felt obligated to save me, you’d still be alive, wouldn’t you?”

Every one of his words drives knives further in Ryuu’s chest. He had thought himself to be the only one, the only one that gripped his newfound love too tightly, too quickly.

“I never felt obligated,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “I was afraid that you felt that way of me.”

Atsushi almost laughs, but it comes out broken, a hiccup allowing salty tears to spill into his mouth.

“Of course not,” he whispers. “I…”

He pauses, frowns, squeezes his eyes shut, opens them again only to watch Ryuu through tears.

“... I convinced myself that I loved you, Akutagawa.”

Ryuu can’t fight it anymore. Desperately, he reaches for Atsushi’s hand, his fingers passing through his but he holds them there anyway because he wants to, he wants to touch he wants to feel he wants to cry he wants to hold him and tell him not to be sad and that everything will be okay.

But he can’t. Because it won’t be okay. It will hurt. It will hurt until they’re both so tired of hurting that they’ll scream, but they have to let it hurt. They have to feel this. There’s no other way past it than straight through it.

“Atsushi,” Ryuu murmurs to himself as much as Atsushi, no longer looking at him but looking out the window and at the few stars poking through the city lights. “No matter why or how you felt it, everything you felt was real.”

Atsushi sniffles, but his sobs stop. He doesn’t move his hand away from Ryuu’s. For a moment, they sit in silence.

Then Ryuu takes a deep breath, taking in no air at all.

“I want you to promise me a few things,” he says. He turns back to Atsushi in time to see him nod, eyes and nose red and puffy. Ryuu frowns but continues.

“First… I need you to take care of Chuuya.”

Atsushi looks at him a bit oddly, questions obviously on the tip of his tongue, but Ryuu sighs before he says anything.

“He probably blames himself for all of this,” he mumbles. “I need you to watch him, and… Make sure he’s okay. That he doesn’t get into any trouble for my sake.”

Atsushi seems to hesitate, but he soon nods, still not speaking further. Ryuu frowns and pulls his knees up beside him.

“And second,” he looks Atsushi straight in the eye, “I want you to live.”

Once again, Atsushi looks at him with confusion, and Ryuu curses inwardly.

“Atsushi, you know what I mean,” he practically snaps. “I want you to live your best life. I want you to feel cool grass under your feet. I want you to dance in the rain. I want you to smile and laugh and love and be loved and…” He stops, his words stumbling over themselves. He sighs.

“I want you to move on.”

Atsushi’s shoulders bunch together. Looking away from Ryuu’s eyes, he buries the lower half of his face in his pillow once again.

“I… I can’t promise that,” he admits softly. The fingers Ryuu holds through Atsushi’s hand grip together.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I know better than anyone.”

Atsushi yawns, stretching a tiny bit. “Hey, Akutagawa?”

Ryuu nods, leaning towards him. He knew how this would end, he knew from the start, but he doesn’t want it to end yet.

But he has to let it.

“Yes, Atsushi?” he says.

For the first time that evening, Atsushi gives a happy, genuine, tiny smile.

“I love you.”

Ryuu opens his mouth to speak, but he can say nothing in return. He can say nothing as the image of the room fades, as Ozaki walks to him, as she puts her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s time to go home,” she says again, but she sounds distant, as if on the other end of a tunnel.

Ryuu stands, and the bed ceases to be. The last thing he sees is Atsushi’s soft face, his eyes closed in sleep, smiling still. Perhaps he’s dreaming, Ryuu thinks.

He hopes they’re good dreams.

#Heavenbound #shin soukoku #sskk #atsuaku #akuatsu #man i have chuuya a bum rap in this #to be fair the movie treated itchy just as well

9 notes · View notes

shawnstoriesx · 5 years

Text

Bear Pt 3

my heart is literally so happy that this piece is getting so much love ! i hope this one lives up to your expectations. there will be another part so any feedback would be greatly appreciated

also! just a heads up but there is a scene where a character is touched without consent. pls reach out to me if this makes u uncomfortable and I’ll def try to avoid writing stuff like that. :-)

Since their fight, YN had completely shut out Shawn. Whenever she was near him, she was instantly reminded of the hurt, anger, and insignificance that he made her feel. And so she blocked his number, ignored his efforts at trying to talk to her, and left the room whenever it was just him and her.

“Did something happen between you and Shawn?” Alexa asked. She and YN were sitting at their kitchen counter, eating their breakfasts before they had to leave for class.

YN tensed up. “What do you mean?” She knew exactly what Alexa meant. But she wasn’t about to tell her roommate that YN and Shawn weren’t friends anymore because Shawn preferred Alexa over her.

“I can obviously see that you both aren’t talking to each other and Shawn’s been telling me about how easily you get on his nerves now.” Alexa said cooly.

Getting on his nerves? YN couldn’t believe it. Shawn really was doing everything in his power to ruin their now nonexistent friendship.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to say it like that though.” Alexa added reassuringly. “Anyways got to go! Going to be late.”

Alexa rushed out of the apartment while YN walked back to her room. Alexa’s first class of the day started 3 hours before YN’s so YN always had some time for herself, most of which she spent at the gym. Today however, YN chose to stay at home to catch up on her reading assignments.

She was an hour in when she heard the front door unlock. Is Alexa ditching the rest of her classes? YN quietly walked out of her room to see who it was. She wasn’t expecting to see Shawn rummaging through her fridge, his back turned towards her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked coldly, arms crossed in front of chest, her face expressionless.

Shawn jumped at the sudden break of silence, giving a small high pitched shriek at the surprise. YN couldn’t help but give a small smile at Shawn’s reaction but that quickly disappeared.

“Oh uh Alexa forgot her lunch so I grabbed it for her and I uh wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Shawn muttered, motioning towards the Tupperware of salad he had in his hands.

“I live here you know. Of course I’m going to be here.” she responded before turning away. YN had to leave now. She couldn’t stand being in the same room as Shawn anymore. YN didn’t know where to spend the remaining 2 hours until her first class but she quickly threw her books into her backpack and grabbed her keys and walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Shawn asked, still standing in the spot where she saw him last.

“The gym.”

“Without your gym bag?”

Shit. “The library.” she quickly responded.

“YN, can we talk? You’ve been avoiding me ever-“ Shawn implored before she cut him off.

“Sorry. Don’t want to get on your nerves more than I already have.” YN retorted while putting on her shoes.

She glanced up at him, a look of confusion was evident on his face. Hah he really thought he could talk crap about YN behind her back without her knowing.

“What do you me-“ Shawn started but he was stopped by the slamming of the front door. YN had already left.

“You ready for tomorrow YN?” Brad asked as he handed her a water bottle.

Brad and YN had finished the midterm project early but still saw each other often since they had become gym buddies and she was still his formal date. They quickly grew close and she found it easy to open up to Brad. He knew all about the falling out between YN and Shawn and was her emotional support system.

YN nodded. Although she was nervous at first, YN was excited for the formal. Brad explained to her that the formal would only last for a couple hours and then afterwards, everyone would hit the clubs. She didn’t party much but she felt that this would definitely help distract her from all of the drama in her life.

Before she knew it, YN was sitting on her couch waiting for Brad to text her that he was here to pick her up. YN was flipping through the various TV channels to kill the time when Alexa called YN into her room.

Alexa and Shawn were also headed out for dinner that night. It was their 2 month anniversary and Alexa needed YN’s help to curl her hair.

“So you plan on making the moves on Brad today?” Alexa asked as YN twirled her hair around the wand.

“Haha no. We are strictly friends. Plus, he’s got a girlfriend.”

Alexa raised an eyebrow at YN through the vanity mirror. “That doesn’t mean anything.” Alexa joked cruelly, causing YN to give a nervous laughter.

“Nope we both have made it very clear that we are friends. Just very affectionate friends. And I’m glad I’m going with him. I trust him enough so that when we dance and drink at the club, I wo-”

“You’re going to the club?”

“Yeah we’re going to be at Valda after the formal. It’s not supposed to last all night.”

YN had just finished up curling her hair when she heard a knock at her door. Guessing it was Shawn, YN told Alexa to get the door as she sat back down on the couch.

“Hey baby. Oh and hi Brad.” Alexa grinned. YN quickly got up at the name of her friend and walked to where Alexa was in front of the doorway. On the other side, Shawn and Brad were both awkwardly standing side by side, with flowers in their hands.

“I thought you were going to text me!” YN exclaimed, completely ignoring Shawn.

“Haha I couldn’t do that. Have to treat you right yknow” Brad chuckled before handing her the flowers and pulling her through the doorway in for a warm hug.

The hug was abruptly ended tby Shawn pushing past her to enter the house. Rude.

“You guys have fun!” YN shouted back as she and Brad walked to his car. Brad gave a friendly wave back to the couple still standing in the doorway.

“They’re cute together.” YN heard Alexa say before the door closed behind them.

The formal was rather uneventful. It was mostly speeches and a little bit of dancing. However, as she and Brad got into his car to head to the club, YN couldn’t conceal her excitement.

“Finally, we can party hard!” YN as she danced in her seat.

“You can party hard.” Brad corrected her. “I’m going to be sober. DD remember.”

Oh right. Brad had volunteered to be one of the designated drivers for the night to personally make sure that YN and his friends made it home safe.

“I forgot. Okay you won’t drink so I won’t drink.” YN said, turning her entire body towards him as he started the car.

“No no don’t let me ruin your fun. I’ll still party,” Brad mimicked the dance moves that YN had made earlier. “Just not as hard as you will.”

“I’m a clingy drunk you know,” YN joked, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I’m sure you are, just don’t get too wasted. I still have to take care of you.”

YN and Brad had made it into Valda and were now seated at a booth with other members of his frat and their dates. They were all engaged in conversation when one of the guys suddenly shouted, “Hey Pete. Isn’t that your ex-girlfriend?”

A boy who YN assumed to be Pete looked up in the direction that the other boy was pointing. “Crap. Yea it’s her.” At his response, everyone quickly shot their heads up to get a glimpse of this ex-girlfriend.

YN couldn’t believe her eyes. They were all staring at Alexa. Alexa and Shawn were at the same club as her. Great.

She and Brad exchanged eye contact before he placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her body towards him in a comforting side hug.

“Is she the one who cheated on you?” someone asked. Wait what?

“Yeah. She is. Whatever. Must suck to have a personality as ugly as hers.” Pete responded before taking a sip of his drink.

“What do you mean?” Brad asked, throwing a confused look to his friends.

“You haven’t heard Bear? She’s totally fake. Avoid her at all costs.”

“She’s YN’s roommate.” Brad responded, concern evident in his voice as he looked down at her. The booth went silent.

Not used to the attention, YN gave a nervous chuckle and started toying with the buttons on Brad’s shirt. “Yeah. I’ve only known Alexa for less than a year but I’m sure she’s not like that. She’s very sweet to me.”

Everyone at the booth nodded a little too vigorously and there was an awkward silence until one of the girls yelled, “So let’s do shots!” The group instantly erupted in laughter and the topic of the conversation moved on, but YN couldn’t forget what everyone was saying about Alexa.

After a round of shots, one of the girls asked YN, “Hey want to go to to the restroom with us?”

YN nodded and stood up to walk with them. To get to the restrooms, they had to pass the bar where Shawn and Alexa were, his arms wrapped around her waist as they lightly swayed to the music. YN looked down, hoping that they wouldn’t notice her.

“YN!” Alexa called out.

Of course. YN let out a silent groan and then quickly turned around to flash her roommate a quick smile, making sure to avoid Shawn’s eyes.

“I completely forgot you would be here. Where’s Brad?” Alexa yelled over the loud music.

YN pointed over to the direction of her booth and she saw Alexa’s face contort as her eyes looked over the people seated next to Brad.

YN remembered that she was on her way to the restroom with the other girls and quickly excused herself. She found the other girls standing in a huddle, eyes focused on YN and Alexa. She blushed and walked over.

As YN was washing her hands in the sink, one of the girls went up to her. “Has Alexa done anything to you yet?”

YN gave a polite smile. They must have a thing against her roommate. “No she hasn’t. She’s a great roommate.” she said unwaveringly.

“She hasn’t said anything contradictory or suspicious?”

YN froze. There was the time when Alexa said she was interested in Harry Potter like YN and Shawn were but acted otherwise.

The girls took her silence as confirmation.

“Sweetie, we ALL used to be friends with Alexa.” The other girls nodded silently. “She’s completely fake. She used all of us but acted like she was such a great friend. Why do you think she always has new people hanging out with her. The old ones finally realized how cruel she is and left.”

Now that YN thought of it, Alexa always was hanging out with different people every month. But YN thought that just meant she had a lot of friends.

“What do you mean she used you?” YN asked quietly.

“We all have different stories. Alexa made me believe we were best friends during a big project, left me to do all the work, and never talked to me again afterwards. Alexa stole Laura’s boyfriend. But I think Tracy had it the worse. Alexa made her life a living hell.”

Tracy nodded before stepping closer to YN. “She spread lies about me to all my friends and I didn’t know until I confronted them about it. She told them I thought they were annoying -“ Tracy was cut off by another large group of girls entering the restroom.

YN couldn’t believe what they were saying. Alexa? She was nothing but sweet to YN. She couldn’t imagine Alexa ever being like that. An uneasy filling settled in YN’s stomach.

The girls now spoke in a hushed whisper. “Hey we don’t mean to scare you like that. If you say she’s nice, maybe she’s changed. We just want you to be cautious is all” Tracy said before giving her a squeeze.

YN gave them a weak smile and they all walked back to the booth where the boys were waiting. Brad noticed YN’s change in demeanor and pulled her into another tight hug. She looked over to where Alexa and Shawn were. Shawn’s arms were still wrapped around Alexa but his gaze was directed toward YN and Brad. They briefly made eye contact, Shawn giving her a weak smile, before he was pulled toward the dance floor by Alexa.

YN’s group took some more sips of their drinks before steadily moving to the dance floor too. By now, YN was slightly tipsy and she made true on her words to Brad in the car. She really was clingy when drunk. Brad and her were attached at the hip throughout the night, dancing goofily side by side during the upbeat songs and swaying softly as he hugged her from behind during the slower songs.

“I’m going to get a soda from the bar? Want anything?” Brad yelled, trying to be heard over the loud music.

YN shook her head and slipped out of Brad’s arms as he walked away. She quickly looked around before spotting the others in her group about 10 feet away. She made her way over until a set of unfamiliar hands grabbed onto her waist, restricting her from taking another step. YN quickly turned around and came face to face with a guy who she had never met before. He reeked of alcohol.

“Uh I think you have the wrong person.” YN said timidly, trying to break out of the man’s grip.

Instead, the man tightened his hold on her and gave her a creepy smile. “No girl as beautiful as you should be here by herself. Let me dance with you.” He leaned down to kiss her head but YN twisted her body to avoid the kiss while also somehow breaking out of his grip. She ran over to the rest of the group and had just made it to them when she felt those hands grab at her wrist, pulling her back.

YN let out a loud yelp, which quickly caught the group’s attention. The boys quickly leapt into action, pushing their bodies between YN and the strange man, forcing him to let go of her wrist, while the girls pulled her into a protective huddle.

YN looked up, praying that she didn’t attract too much attention. The club was still bustling and going on as normal except for her region of the dance floor. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for Brad. Her heart was racing and she really needed his comfort right now. Instead of finding Brad though, her eyes were instantly drawn to Shawn. He was now only a few feet away from her while Alexa was standing on the other side of the dance floor, arms crossed as she glared at YN. Shawn’s face was filled with concern and his gaze kept going back and forth between YN and the man as he walked in her direction.

“YN, are you okay?” she heard Brad ask from behind her. She turned herself away from Shawn’s direction and buried her head in Brad’s chest. Tears were starting to fall as Brad spoke soothingly to her, comforting her while also profusely apologizing for leaving her alone.

YN could sense that Shawn was now right behind her.

“Bear, you should take her home. Don’t worry about us, we’ll just Uber home.” one of his frat brothers said.

Brad nodded and brought her back to the booth to collect their things before leaving.

“YN, Honey are you okay?” Shawn asked, his voice cracking a bit as he followed YN and Brad to their booth.

Brad helped YN sit down before directing his attention to Shawn. “Dude I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now. Go back to your girlfriend. I can take her home.” he said calmly.

A pulse of anger flashed through Shawn. “I don’t hear her saying that? Do you? How do I even know you’re going to take care of her? You were doing a great job at that when that creep had his hands on her.” Shawn yelled, clenching his fists.

“Bear, is everything okay?” Some of Brad’s friends had come up to check on YN and heard Shawn yelling. Their bodies were tense, ready to defend Brad and YN if necessary.

“Bear?” Shawn whispered. He looked down at YN and she could feel the hurt and anger in his voice.

“I just want to go home Brad.” she said weakly.

Brad nodded and guided her to the exit. YN looked back and saw Shawn’s body tense as his eyes darted from her to Alexa in the far corner. Alexa was still standing there by herself, visibly upset that her boyfriend had ditched her, even if it was only for a few minutes. Shawn took a step in YN’s direction at the exit before letting go of a deep sigh, pivoting his body away from YN and back to Alexa.

YN brought her face forward and moved blankly. What a fucking night.

tag list: @alinashawn @l-ivingformendes @my-sweet-escape-from-the-world

#need me a friend like Brad tho :-/#shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes x yn #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes #college!shawn #college!au

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fuckthegovfucklove · 5 years

Text

The Love Ideology: What is love?

Trying to define love is a bloody tiring mission encumbered by vagueness, contradictions and inconsistencies. So I’m not going to attempt to define the word but rather look at some of the different shapes love comes in within interpersonal relationships.

I want to look at the different types of love, the function of each, the power dynamics that exist and their relevance as a basis to share my speculative thoughts on the wider implications of love in later posts.

Loving is touted as a necessity, a source of joy and an objectively good thing for humanity. I’m not so sure I agree and I think a counter-argument against love is useful in redirecting our focus to more urgent issues and developing critical thought, or at the very least being more conscious of the way you love (if you must).

I briefly look at self love, romantic love, platonic love and familial love from a mainstream (western) perspective since that’s what's most prevalent and all I know anyway. Love is not confined to interpersonal relationships and critique of it can be extended to sentiments like unwaveringly love for homeland (patriotism), love for a public figure (idolatry), love for an ideology (cultism).

You’ll find that in every case where love is referred to, it could easily be replaced by a more revealing synonym.

Self love

I know your familiar with this one, we rave on about it all the time. It’s being content with who you are, knowing your “worth” (you see the capitalist undertones too right?). Some call it a radical self-acceptance and according to John Kim the ‘life coach’, self love looks like this:

“When you get to a place where you like yourself, the action of loving yourself will come more naturally. You’ll have non-negotiables. You won’t tolerate certain behaviour from others. You’ll seek less approval. Your friendships will be less lopsided. You won’t have as many holes to fill within you. You’ll be more gentle with yourself, more forgiving. You’ll believe you deserve more, better, different. You’ll finally stop breaking the promises you’ve made with you. And the relationship you have with yourself will improve. “

Ah so, curing all the problems caused by love (and capitalism) with more.. love? Think about why you do what you do. You compromise because you love, tolerate because you love, seek approval because you want love, your love is quantifiable and isn’t always reciprocated, love told you you need it feel whole, to love you must forgive, you deserve love.

Is loving yourself enough in a capitalist world that measures your social worth on how full your cup of love is? (think about the [profitable] factors that determine this too). Will the inferiority complex completely dissipate? If you walk out on the expectations of this here capitalist world perhaps, but abandoning the pursuit of love might be a quicker route.

“You can’t love somebody else until you love yourself“ is a widely known cliché typically used in a romantic context. Some critique the adage saying self-love isn’t actually a precondition for loving others, clinical psychologist Leon F. Seltzer proposes a better alternative: “To deepen your love and acceptance of another, first develop love and acceptance for yourself.” Interesting. I still think theres a semblance of truth in the former that could easily be extrapolated to other types of love.

See loving the Other can only be done by identifying parts of yourself within them and seeing qualities in them that you like. It’s impossible to imagine what loving something entirely disconnected from us looks like because everything is in some way connected to self. We extend ourselves to the object of our love so that by loving the Other we are also loving ourselves. Kierkegaard calls this ‘self-love’. Loving your partner is loving self, loving your friend is loving self, loving your family is loving self, loving your nation is loving self, loving the environment is loving self, loving an ideology is loving self; no matter how selfless or sacrificial the nature. Thus, I have made the cheeky decision to sub them all under this title.

Romantic love

The most sought after, most regulated, most distracting and arguably the most delusional of loves. Romance is where we can write our own fiction and relies on our own imagination to create a world where it can function. Driven by our libidinal desires, we seek to conquer the heart of another. Our romantic interests becoming personified virtues who make us feel like we’ve never felt before (until they don’t).

It is here we are forced to learn a gender and organise our desires around them. Our bizarre sex-sentimentality makes romantic love a safe space to be completely uninhibited. Eroticism is confined to the couple as is building a life project (cohabitation, economic merging, child-rearing).

We have a set criteria of what we look for in a partner (our fantasy), too busy setting up our Tinder to question why our list is identical to the next persons and what is informing these ~ preferences ~. The success of romantic interactions are contingent upon the degree to which projective identification is continually effective, that is when a person projects their fantasy onto another so that they feel inclined or pressured to fall in line with the projective fantasy. In romance, this is typically one of amour passion where by confessing your feelings the other now hopefully joins you in this romantic fantasy.

We must then commit to this person, overcommit then merge. The merging process frequently comes with the dissolution of autonomy and boundaries because complete trust in the other is a requirement. We simultaneously create rules and install dependencies to solidify this union because subconsciously we know that love is not enough to keep two together.

Unpaid labour is an intrinsic part of romantic love and it’s usually gendered - maintaining a healthy relationship requires work (cishet women and those taking the role of woman/femme/more domesticised doing most of the labour). So is it that we enjoy working 9-5 + unpaid overtime or do the promised benefits of coupledom outweigh the cons?

Those who opt for singledom and see no sense in romantic love are considered immature or are diagnosed with the infamous disorder the therapists call ‘fear of intimacy’. Those who are single by circumstances are told that “the one“ will soon come and/or are often pitied. The social worth of an individual increases when they are in a couple as the partner is pretty much considered personal property.

Unions formed on the basis of romantic love are the only ones that are eligible to sign a contract with the state (think about why) and in exchange are afforded a multitude of benefits from adoption rights and tax deductions to immigration and residency for partners from other countries. These unions, called marriage, are usually accompanied by an expensive celebration party where friends and family are expected to attend and bring gifts.

So what is the purpose of romantic love and why do we desire it? Lynn Paramore sums it up.

“Romantic love is not based on companionship, but on the feeling of being desired. This kind of love appears to give us the opportunity, just as money does, to constantly remake ourselves, to project new version of our lives. It’s about longing, fleeting highs, the same stimulation we feel in buying a new car, a new wardrobe. As the married couple’s romantic attraction wanes, the need for stimulation is transferred to the next big purchase, the washing machine, the wide-screen TV. Capitalism goes humming along.”

Platonic love

Where there’s romance, love is expected to consume you. Friendships aren’t similarly expected to be as emotionally weighty and intoxicating; we expect support in good times and bad, someone to laugh, gossip and cry with and a companion to embark on new adventures with. We hope for our friendships to last long but don’t spend as much time deliberating about our future, we truly live in the present with those we consider friends.

These relationships are usually built off of shared values and interests, and an appreciation of the stark realities of the individual characters. They aren’t typically sought after but are formed by being in the right place at the right time. Friendships usually have no issue respecting autonomy, there’s something more rational and ethical about the bond. The voluntarist nature of the entanglements allow this and in comparison to romantic love, platonic love expects little.

The performative actions designed to win affection that are part and parcel of romance are left at the door. Platonic love isn’t devoid of affection but arbitrary limits are put in place e.g sexual intercourse. According popular culture sex ruins a friendship (loooool). Friends do typically seek a level of validation and affirmation from their peers, considerably higher (from my observations) for those socialised as men.

While platonic love doesn’t demand the cognitive bending that romantic love does, it’s similar in the sense that it’s love through favouritism. We give preferential treatment to those who favour us even in situations where logically we would do otherwise. It is expected of us. Platonic love however does not hold the same social value as romantic love and friendships are often “demoted“ once a new romantic interest takes the stage. Andrew Sullivan voiced his disapproval on this common practice:

“The great modern enemy of friendship has turned out to be love. By love, I don't mean the principle of giving and mutual regard that lies at the heart of friendship [but] love in the banal, ubiquitous, compelling, and resilient modern meaning of love: the romantic love that obliterates all other goods, the love to which every life must apparently lead, the love that is consummated in sex and celebrated in every particle of our popular culture, the love that is institutionalized in marriage and instilled as a primary and ultimate good in every Western child...We live in a world, in fact, in which respect and support for eros (romantic love) has acquired the hallmarks of a cult. “

Familial love

Familial love presents in a lot of arrangements. Between two individuals it can be a progression from platonic love or romantic love (though they can coexist). It’s a fondness born out of familiarity, dependency, mutual protection and non-judgmental support. Family can also describe a group of people you share similar experiences and rituals with, such as a church family or work family.

The primal familial love, the “blood is thicker than water“ love that is somewhat universal refers to the instinctual affection and protection we show to those with blood (shared genetics/common ancestors) and perhaps legal bonds (legally bound through adoption/guardianship). The love of a parent towards offspring and vice versa. Or extended blood family. With familial love theres an inherent hierarchy: offspring, spouse, parents-siblings, extended blood family and then other forms of family if chosen. I will refer to familial love as what exists between parent and offspring henceforth as it customarily obliterates the rest.

This familial love conventionally implies unconditional, ultra-protective, “I’d die for you“ love towards child. It’s not given according to their personal qualities (although once they’re no longer a minor it often weakens) and if a child should stray on the wrong path the parent will most likely do everything in their power to save them. The family is the nuclear of civilisation and the most basic unit of society. The education of almost all starts in the family, particularly character and moral education.

The familial love of a parent is one of duty and protection, and for the child it’s one of dependance and trust. As parents are the legal guardians of children, they position themselves as the authority and the child recognises them as such. Parents have a wider understanding of society and often try balance preserving a child’s innocence (I often wonder why) whilst making them aware of the “real world”. In order to ensure a child obeys them and trusts that they know what's best for them they often remind the child that there’s bad people out there that do bad things i.e “don’t talk to strangers, they could kidnap you“. Children are then obliged to submit to the parental safety that the home provides, whilst also being dependent on their parent for sustenance.

Familial love is assumed to be natural and present in all. It’s blasphemy to confess you do not love your parents or you do not love your child. In situations of conflict, familial love is supposed water down any malice, and forgiveness/reconciliation should follow. The family is expected to have your best interest at heart at all time and familial love is thought of as permanent, parents often say things along the lines of: “Your family remains even when everyone leaves“. Loyalty and favouritism is therefore expected and should also trump that of friends and romantic partners.

Many choose to reproduce. They get to experience the reverse of child-parent familial love where they are the ones in authority and build a life project from that. Why do people choose to have children? Some of the reasons people give range from: looking to find a sense of purpose, familism, pressure from peers and family, belief that it is your duty to continue your biological lineage etc. A growing number of people are choosing not to reproduce usually because they aren’t interested in parenting or bringing more people into the world (voluntary childlessness/anti-natalism).

Humanaesfera suggests a political explanation for the desire to create a family:

“Since the emergence of capitalism (ie, the industrial capital, the proletariat and the modern state, simultaneously, eighteenth century), the familism is the central fetish by which the proletarians (ie, those deprived of the property of any means of life) accept willingly to engage in maintaining and improving the enterprise and the government, creating and accumulating with dedication the very hostile power that systematically subjugates them, wears out them, recycles them, discards them and abandons them - the capital. This is because they place their libido (cathexis), their desires, in the family, pseudo capitalist property in which they fantasize are accumulating their own capital on a par with the capitalists. This leads them to support the ruling class and the police, that is, the state as guarantor of this fictitious property.”

#blog post #aromantic #anti-romance #against love #liberatory relating

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geldris · 5 years

Text

I’m not happy to be here today. I come to bare my sin open with you, reader, and the public world.

Here it is. Happy April Fool’s Day to @bablyons, lover of Geldabeth, but above all, lover of Hawk Mama.

Find the fic (if that’s what we can call it) here. Or beneath the cut. Warning for... general attraction between a pure girl and a giant pig milf. I hate that I had to type that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Geldabeth’s Adventures in Pugohtory!

Back and forth, Elizabeth paced nervously within the confines of the stone room, darker and colder than her ethereal home. Even so, there was a feminine touch here: trinkets on a ornate white vanity, plush bedding, flickering candles and bouquets of lavender. Most feminine of all was the vampire princess, perfecting her already flawless complexion in a body length mirror. Every few seconds, she’d dab powder along the length of her neck, undoing and redoing her braid into a perfectly symmetrical bow. Elizabeth got anxious just watching her: while Gelda had already gone through at least ten ribbons that Elizabeth couldn’t tell apart in color (they were slightly different shades of red, Gelda insisted) the goddess had hardly cared to focus on her appearance of all things.

Elizabeth has remained politely silent as she observed the other girl getting ready. But as minutes slipped into the beginning of hours, she could no longer hold her anxious tongue. “Aren’t you afraid to go to Purgatory.”

Gelda narrows her eyes in the mirror at a particular unruly curl in her hair, restarting the style with ever-moving, delicate fingers. “No,” she responded.

A huff blew passed Elizabeth’s lips. “Aren’t you afraid it’ll be… well… hellish?” she relented, lacking better description.

“Once you’re familiar with the land, it’s not scary. Particularly if you’re an honored guest, as we are. You’re invited to counsel, Elizabeth. Nothing bad will happen to you,” Gelda reassured, kindness layered under her stern tone.

“Well, yes.” Elizabeth further relented, “But, they could be lying-”

“So what if they are? I’m familiar enough with purgatory’s ins and outs to escape if it came to that. Not that I’m expecting to have to.”

“Are you?”

“Of course,” Gelda chided lightly, “I’m betrothed to rule there. You should familiarize yourself with Purgatory as well: one day, you’ll rule the celestial realm. It’s best to know your enemy’s land as much as your own.”

“I don’t want any enemies!” Elizabeth corrected, voice cracking an octave in nervous desperation. The idea of someone seeing her as an enemy had her hairline flushed. She desired to be loved and to love all others in a world of peace and harmony. Even the demons, though her skin shook and prickled at the very term.

“You’ll never make everyone happy,” Gelda sighed, brushing her hands along the bottom of her gown as she finally seemed to finish perfecting herself. Elizabeth blushed at the words: it was as if the other girl was in her head. “It’s best,” Gelda continued, “to be prepared for the worst. If the clans are at peace for all of your reign, that would be lovely for you. But you must assume they won’t be.”

“Is that what your taught here?” Elizabeth notes sadly.

“Of course it is. The vampires are rarely friendly with any clan for an extensive amount of time. Hopefully that’ll change somewhat-- when I take the throne instead of my father-- but who knows.”

“Why wouldn’t they want to be friendly with you!” Elizabeth wistfully pondered, “You’re so kind and smart, you’ll make Edinburgh such a lovely place when you’re queen.”

Gelda’s cheeks dust pink under pale, and she keeps her eyes hyperfixated on the silked bottom of her gown for a few moments before seeming to compose herself. “I’m glad you think so.”

Elizabeth finally halts her nervous pacing, throwing herself backwards onto the large bed, feathery wings twitching beneath her. Her mind continues to wander, however, to Purgatory. A frightening place she’d heard about in scary stories and late night warnings. The celestial realm dared not to speak its name, fearing that doing so would bring misery and bad luck. She listed internally what she knew: monsters, demonic foot soldiers who were large and unintelligent and lusted for blood. How there were horrific curses put on unwanted visitors that slowed down time for millenia per minute. Places so hot they’d melt skin off bones, areas so frigid it froze the blood within veins. Endless agony, persisting madness--

“Your mind is wandering,” Gelda hummed, “We’re invited guests. Only those who are unwanted in the realm suffer its consequences.”

“How do you do that?!” Elizabeth huffed.

“Do what?”

“Read my mind like that!” Elizabeth sat up with a whine in her voice.

Gelda giggles, an action Elizabeth has never seen her do outside of these private moments. Gelda never bared emotion in public: it showed a lack of composure, she’d been told. But here, in the private of her room, she broke for Elizabeth. Elizabeth lips tug upwards at the thought. “Well,” Gelda hummed once again, “you’re quite obvious in your thoughts. All your expressions cross your face as you feel them.” She seemed to ponder the observation a bit longer, “you’d make quite a terrible liar, if you ever tried.” Gelda concluded, a tease in her voice.

Elizabeth agreed with that conclusion: she was not a liar. Such an idea rarely crossed her: the celestial realm didn’t have patience for sin, dishonesty being high on the list. Her mother didn’t have patience for sin. Through her childhood, she’d been bombarded with the ideals of moral superiority over the other races. Particularly the demons: everything her mother stated they were (dishonest, cruel, lustful, bloodthirsty), was everything Elizabeth was trained not to be.

“How will we get to the demon realm, anyways?” Elizabeth wondered out loud.

“Portals.” Gelda stated simply, “We have one in the throne room. Most of the clans that the demons are…” she hesitated, “allied with do.”

Elizabeth leaned forward, putting her chin in her hands. “I’m still so… nervous,” she confessed, “I’ve been told such horrors--”

“Such false horrors.” Gelda corrected.

“Either way. This is the one place I’ve been raised to… well… despise.”

“Elizabeth,” Gelda approached her, tenderness in her voice, gently tucking a strand of the Goddess’s silver hair behind her ear, “What were you first raised to think about me?”

Elizabeth instantly cringed. She understood the other girl’s point but, well… her childhood stories of the vampires, while lesser than the demons, were just as unpleasant. She recalled the tales from her mother and her tutors: that they were monstrous, blood-sucking leeches who shifted form in the night to become terrible, demonic creatures. While some of Gelda’s clan made Elizabeth wary, they were hardly all the terrifying beings from her childhood nightmares.

“Even so,” Elizabeth persisted, “What if Purgatory does have some terrifying, giant monsters?”

“Then we kill them.” Gelda stated, monotone and deadpan.

Elizabeth sharply inhaled at the very idea. Of course, she knew defending herself would lead to such a thing. But the idea of that act, done by her, stated so bluntly out loud.

“Or, rather,” Gelda quickly backtracked, eyebrows furrowing as she watched the other girl, “I will, and you will protect yourself.”

What a tempting offer. Yet, Elizabeth feels an ache of something in her chest, that makes her wish she could be more of use. More confident in her ability to be… powerful. But she had long accepted that she didn’t thrive in battle as others did. She was a healer, a supporter. If it came to killing or showing mercy, she’d never stop doing the latter.

“Don’t be afraid,” Gelda whispered, breaking the girl from her thoughts, “It’s time to go.”

-~-~-

The portal is dark and foreboding, leaving Elizabeth immediately with cool claminess on her skin, coating her palms, alongside an accelerating heart. Gelda’s hand is in her, reassuringly patient and yet persistent in pulling her forward. It’s what Elizabeth needed: the support combined with the push to go on.

The darkness of the portal swallowing her being feels as if she’s jumping into frigid water. Elizabeth swears ice shoots through her veins, her claminess turing to shivering goosebumps that freeze over and oh no she’s dying, the rumors were true, the cold is this intense.

Then she’s panting on the ground, on her knees in the darkest soil she’s seen, indigo and black and violet hued. It’s night, she noted, disoriented.

Gelda’s voice broke through her trance: “Easy enough, right?”

Elizabeth minds her surroundings. Its real, and I’m here within it. Breaking her situation down to the bare essentials felt best. If she took a breath, let the air (not frigid now, thank goodness) expand her lungs and the ground feel solid beneath her, she can focus. And if she can think in this moment, a non terrorizing moment, clearly, then she could take one step at a time and get through this evening. Yes! She cheered herself on internally, I’m okay. This is okay. Everything’s okay, and if it isn’t, Gelda is here. She repeats the simple phrases over and over until they become unwaveringly confident within her mind, spreading warmth in her body, allowing her tight muscle to unlock.

Gelda offered her a hand, gentle and welcoming, a soft smile tugging at her lips. How grateful Elizabeth is for her presence! She couldn’t have come alone, and yet she doesn’t have many friends in the other clans. Slowly, she attempted to meet the leaders of the fairies, the giants, even the human kingdoms. But Gelda is her first true friend outside of the celestial realm, and she’s overwhelmed in the moment by how grateful she is for her presence not only now, but in her life overall.

She reached for the hand, the color of faded moonlight in the darkness.

As she attempted to stand, a tremor shook the dark ground beneath her. An earthquake? Were these the natural disasters, plentiful as she was told they’d be?

The tremor passed and began again. No, it’s not an earthquake: there’s a rhythm to it. Both the women immediately turned to face the source.

Elizabeth wasn’t prepared. In fact, neither was Gelda.

There in front of them, shattering the earth of purgatory, breaking open Hell itself, trembling the unsteady ground beneath them was…. A pig. A large pig. A very large, very green pig.

This was it. These were the monstrous demons she’d been told about, the ones that haunted her nightmares. She swore she could hear Gelda calling her name, but it sounded so far away. The world was spinning, and all she could focus on was the giant pig in front of her.

And yet… she felt no fear. Her body was frozen to its spot, dizzy and disoriented, her senses failing her. But no, she was not afraid. She felt… She felt the need to approach the pig. Not to do it-- her-- harm but something… more.

The world around her was darkness, and this pig was a blinding light. She walked forward subconsciously, forgetting her purpose in being here. All she knew is in this moment, she wanted to be more like this pig. And in the moment she wished for that outlandish dream, her dainty fingers caressed her face and found it to be a reality. For on her face’s center was no longer her small, delicate nose: no, she had the snout her heart had so suddenly longed for. But while her body shifted to become her desired form, her heart still yearned. It pushed her forward, forward. The light was no longer blinding, but warm and inviting.

The giant pig and she met eyes, exchanging a glance that could’ve lasted an eternity. She felt them connect on a level no one had reached within her before. Slowly, the ginormous mammal opened its large mouth. Oh, Elizabeth thought to herself, in complete acceptance, she’s surely going to eat me now. And yet, she was at peace.

This pig… was all she needed in life. She let the desire envelope her completely, until all that surrounded her was light, love, and the feel of her own snout beneath her hands.

-~-~-

The ground is solid beneath Elizabeth once again. She woke with a start to the newly familiar land: purple hues, dark sands. This was purgatory, surely. She’d made it here. But the pig…

“You’re awake,” Gelda stated. Elizabeth met her eyes, seeing the girl cross legged beside her.

Elizabeth gives herself a moment to blink the wariness from her eyes. “What-”

“I let you rest for a bit, since we had some time to spare. You passed out nearly as soon as you saw the giant pig.”

“I… I what?!” Elizabeth shouted, now very awake, high pitched and shrill. She sat up, blood rushing to her head and causing dark dots to coat her vision.

“I suppose you were afraid, it is a rather… large monster.” Gelda shrugged, unbothered.

“Where did it go?!” Elizabeth nails bit into the inside of her palms, head waving from side to side as even from the ground she prepared for another beast’s approach.

“I used my Inferno to scare it off… or perhaps just bother it. I truly don’t know how powerful it was, but the sight of the explosion made it leave for now.”

Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief, before finally remembering the more terrifying aspects of her dream. “My… my nose?!”

“Your… nose?”

“It’s back to normal!” Elizabeth shed tears in her relief.

Gelda, meanwhile, observed her as if she’d gained two more heads. “It… has always been normal? Has it not?”

Elizabeth, though, was too thrilled at the turn of events. In moments her wings had her upright, fluttering in joy as she launched herself into the vampire’s arms, burying herself in happy relief. Gelda took seconds to react, shock and warmth rushing in her veins. Slowly, her arms came reassuringly around the Goddess, trying to give comfort with slow strokes of her back. Though Elizabeth was too buried in her jubilation to note, Gelda smiled.

Meanwhile, in the distance echoed a low, far-off “Pugoh”. A squeal so ominous and foreboding, it resonated through Elizabeth’s soul and laid claim to it. An impact so profound one almost knows that somewhere beyond Purgatory, far away in time and space, a young lesbian (El)izabeth of the future may find it… oddly sexy.

Epilogue: That young lesbian was Elizabeth’s 34583th reincarnation. Lovingly called El. And she was dating Gelda’s reincarnation named Brooke. And they were WLW, only separated by Elizabeth’s millenia long enduring sexual attraction of Hawk Mama. That’s the moral of the story. Happy Aries Season, I am now retiring from writing. It's been nice while it lasted. El I’m in love with you please remarry me through Discord Bot. El please--

#this is getting exactly ZERO tags that sort it into anything #el... i love u and hate u equally #my wife... my nemesis... my lover... my greatest enemy #personal

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