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takerfoxx · 3 years

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Well, in honor of the Rebellion sequel FINALLY being announced, here’s something I was going to do today anyway! Here’s the second part of the crew of Walpurgis Nights watch The Rebellion Story, stretching from Madoka arriving at the school to Hitomi’s nightmare!

Note: I originally was going to write this as one big piece and release it all at once, but then I realized what a dumb idea that would be, so it’s going to get released in chunks as they’re finished.

Note the 2nd: Every time a prolonged conversation takes place, just assume that they’re pausing the movie to talk.

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

G: You know, I can’t get over Tavi having legs, or Fee having hair.

Op: It does look good, I gotta say. Must’ve been a bitch to keep it looking so fresh though.

Ch: And probably sets fewer low-hanging branches alight or set off fewer sprinklers.

Op: As far as you know. That style is smokin’

…

H: Seeing all those boys is…weird.

Ch: I know what you mean. I mean, I can picture what they look like, and I’ve seen recreations, but even still…

G: It is interesting to think about. I mean, here it’s perfectly normal for girls to get into relationships with other girls. But there girls like us would be a minority.

Op: Can’t imagine why. Now that I’m seeing them…not really getting the appeal. They don’t even have tits!

Ch: I guess you had to be there.

Ok: Hey, is it true that girls who liked other girls got picked on a lot?

Ca: Well, that’s an oversimplification of a serious problem, and I certainly never saw it happen. But then, I was a little…sheltered. And yes, in some places of the world, that does unfortunately happen. And worst.

G: Poor girls.

Ch: And guys. It happens to the gay guys too.

Op: I never got the gay thing. I mean, using the word as an insult. Like, why would that even be something to be ashamed of?

Ca: That’s…a really complicated question, and I’m not sure I’m really qualified to explain.

G: Well, I think they’re just being silly! I don’t see how anyone could see anything wrong with this!

=Gretchen leans over to give Homulilly a small kiss on the lips. Homulilly is more than happy to reciprocate=

Op: GAAAAY!

=Homulilly smacks Ophelia upside the head=

Ca: All of…that aside, I have to say, this is sort of nostalgic.

Ch: Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?

Ca: Oh, relax. I mean, just this. The school. The girls and the boys. The uniforms. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be struck with an uncontrollable desire for penis.

Op: Though if you do, I know a girl who-

Ca: Thank you, Ophelia. Please don’t finish that thought.

…

Op: Ha. Still a rebel, even then.

Ca: You were. You definitely were. Even more than this version. At least this version of you is going to school.

Op: And Tavi’s the goody-goody, sneaking off…hold up.

Ok: What?

Op: Rewind it a bit.

Ch: Okay…?

Op: So, does this version of me and Oktavia…do we live together?

Ch: Huh?

H: What?

Op: How would she know about me slacking on my homework after school if she wasn’t there? Like, in the same house?

Ca: W-Well, friends visit after school, sometimes to work on homework…

Ok: No, I’m going with Ophelia. We were totally shacking up. I mean, look at us. Look how irritated I am with her. That is love.

Ca: Girls, I hate to burst your bubble, but nobody was actually dating anyone back then.

Op: Oh, come on! Look at us!

Ok: Yeah, I mean the only other explanation is…

=silence=

Op: Is what? What are you…Oh, my God.

G: What’s wrong?

=Ophelia and Oktavia both start to look very uncomfortable=

Op: Candy, tell us the honest truth here: are we sisters?

Ca: What?!

Ch: Oh my God, I’m not hearing this.

Op: If you hid it so we wouldn’t freak out, I understand, but we really need to know-

Ca: No! No, you are not sisters, and you did not live together in our timeline! You knew each other for little over a month when we died, and only really got along for about two weeks!

Op: Oh, thank the flames.

Ok: Whew.

Ca: Seriously, what’s wrong with you? I already told you your stories.

G: Yeah, and Hitomi’s known Oktavia and me for a very long time! I think she’d mention it if you two were related.

H: Plus you look nothing alike. At all.

Ok: Okay! Okay! It was a momentary slip of stupid! We panicked! Leave us alone.

H: Would you two have stopped dating if it turned out you were related?

=Ophelia and Oktavia exchange looks=

Op: Probably not.

Ok: Nope.

Ch: Great. Now that we’ve established yet again how degenerate you two are, can we please continue the movie?

…

G: Huh?

Ok: What’s her deal?

Ca: I…kind of remember her? She was a teacher, and I think I had her my first year. But it’s been so long that-

Op: This lady’s bugging.

Ch: Too many shots in her coffee.

Op: I don’t think that’s alcohol.

Ok: Look at the class. Look at us! We’re all as confused as…we are…huh.

Ch: Don’t think about it too hard.

Op: Okay, seriously! Who allowed this lady around children?

Ca: I can remember her being a little eccentric, but this is on a whole new level.

Ch: Well, as the first few minutes proved, this whole city’s totally drugged out of its mind.

G: Does she want the world to end?

Ok: You know, I’m kind of feeling her.

G: Eh?!

Ok: Okay, look! Way back in the day, before I had a reliable gig, I used to sub every now and then for the FIB’s music department, and let me tell you, after a couple days of trying to keep those sand crabs under control, the apocalypse wasn’t sounding too bad!

Ch: How bad does her class have to be for her to go that far off the deep end?

Ok: Well, me and Fee are in the class.

=Ophelia snickers=

G: Oh, I saw Hitomi!

H: Fantastic.

Ok: I thought you two were cool now.

H: Eh…

Ch: Hey, kids! It’s time to play, “Spot the important characters!”

Ca: Did our hair really stand out that much? I distinctly remember other kids having bright hair colors!

Ch: Well, if you have a bunch of characters that you’re only animating for one scene, then you gotta skimp on some of the details.

…

G: Oh, there you are, Lilly!

Ca: Okay, this part I remember as being fairly accurate.

H: Huh?

Ca: I mean the bit about you being a transfer student and having been in the hospital for a while.

H: Ah.

=pause=

H: My God, I look stupid.

G: Don’t say that! You look cute!

H: Did I really wear my hair like that?

Ca: Well, no. You wore it straight. And I don’t remember there being glasses.

…

Ca: This part…is different though.

G: Really? How so?

Ca: I didn’t know Homulilly before she showed up.

Op: Yeah, you talked about that before. She just sort of appeared out of nowhere one day?

Ca: Yes. And pretty much just…aggressively inserted herself into our group. I mean, she wasn’t rude about it, but…

H: I was a time-traveler trying to save the only person that had ever cared about me from a terrible fate and had already failed several times. No doubt I wanted to skip the pleasantries.

Ca: I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything negative.

H: No offense taken.

Ok: So basically, you had reloaded your save over and over and was skipping the cutscenes so you could get to work on the part you were having trouble on.

H: That is…a remarkably accurate way of putting it. At least I assume that was the reason. I don’t know anything other than I was told, and to be quite frank, I’m glad of it.

Op: Hear fuckin’ hear.

Ok: Cheers. Oh, uh, sorry, Candy.

Ca: Don’t worry about it.

…

Ok: Well, Candy’s really talking you up. Guess you were kind of an ass-kicker, Homulilly.

H: No, it’s like the other version of me said. I was probably in a support role.

Ch: What, with the time-stop thing?

H: Yes.

Ok: Support role, my scaly ass! That is like the most OP power ever! I mean, what could I do?

=pause=

Ok: Uh, that wasn’t a rhetorical question. Candy, what could I do?

Ca: Oh, uh. In addition to your sword, you could use boost pads to jump and heal very quickly.

Op: So a tank, basically.

Ok: See? Just take and give damage! Basic as hell! Now time-stop, that’s a power with some class!

Ch: Plus time-travel.

Ok: Yeah, that’s like the jackpot of unfair.

H: Didn’t do me any good. We all died anyway.

Op: We’re chilling in our expensive, two-story house in a really nice neighborhood watching all this on our expensive big-screen instead of getting our asses beat every night and worrying about homework. I’d say things worked out.

…

Op: GAAAAAAY!

Ca: Oh, come on. It’s just hand-holding.

Op: Look at that blush! Look at it!

H: She has a point. By all accounts I was already pretty infatuated with Gretchen.

=Gretchen blushes=

Ca: Fair enough. GAAAAAAY!

=group cracks up=

Op: Though, seriously. Were any of us straight?

Ca: Well, Oktavia did have that crush on that one boy that supposedly started the whole trouble, and I had a couple of crushes of my own.

Ok: Did you not see me earlier in the movie? I at the very least bisexual!

Op: Or Kyoko-sexual. Everyone’s gay for Kyoko! Even the boys are gay for Kyoko!

G: I don’t really know what that means.

Op: It means the boys find me incredibly attractive, but in a gay sort of way.

G: I still don’t know what that means!

=Oktavia leans over to whisper something in Gretchen’s ear. Gretchen’s eyes go wide=

G: Oooohhhh…

…

Ch: A month? So do the landscape shots just mean a time-skip?

Ok: Okay, we were joking just now, but this is pretty explicitly romantic.

H: As I said, it was at least on my end. Though I don’t understand why he has to be there.

Ca: He was always around, unfortunately. I’m mainly wondering why he’s being so quiet. Or catlike.

H: Why, was he talkative?

Ca: Very.

Op: Huh. Maybe that’s why we got Cheese. We were just used to the animal companion that wouldn’t shut the hell-

=Cheese starts screeching from the other room=

C: Pickinilly! Pickidelly! Picadely whore!

Ch: Great, now you’ve set him off.

=Cheese flies into the room and lands on Homulilly’s flower. She tries not to laugh as he prances about before spying the movie playing=

C: Rat bastard! Rat bastard! Rat bastard!

Op: Where’d he learn that? I didn’t teach him that.

C: Rat bastard! Rat bastard!

Ch: Oh, for the love of…Here, I’ll take him.

=Charlotte offers Cheese her arm, and takes him outside=

Op: I’ll say this: the bird might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he is smart.

Ok: …did anyone else see the freaking dirigibles flying around in the background, or just me?

….

Op: Shit, those are a lot of airships. Hey, Candy-

Ca: No, those are new also.

Op: Something’s seriously off about this timeline, then.

Ch: Who the hell is that?

G: Oh! It’s Hitomi!

H: Of course it is.

Ch: Huh. Guess she does get more than a cameo.

Op: Jesus Christ, does her entire family all sleep in the same bed? You could fit an entire studio apartment into that thing!

G: Well, we were apparently all pretty well off.

Op: You had a normal-sized twin with a bunch of stuffed animals. She’s captaining the HMS Spoiled Rotten in there.

G: She’s not spoiled!

Op: Look, there are like three queen-sized beds between the six of us. You could put them all together and they still wouldn’t be as big as that monstrosity!

Ch: Isn’t she like living with three other girls now?

G: So? That doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people have roommates.

H: They’re dating.

G: What? What are you talking about? That’s silly to just assume-

Ok: Gretch. C’mon. It’s not a secret.

G: B-But-

Ok: Poly relationships happen all the time.

G: I…how did you find out?

Ok: You do know that I talk to her too, right? And honestly, you’re making more of it than she is.

G: I guess so.

Op: She should’ve brought that bigass bed with her, then. Gotten some use out of it.

…

H: Who’s she calling?

Ok: Oh boy.

Op: Well, well, well! Violin-boy!

Ok: Fantastic. Hey! I sold my soul for you! Hope it was worth it!

Ch: Er, you okay?

Ok: Yeah, I’m fine. I am pretty curious though.

Op: Oh! Stood the fuck up!

Ch: Wow, he just shot his own rich girlfriend down to play with his stringy stick!

Ok: Violins are way more than just stringy sticks! But yeah, he did shoot her right down, didn’t he? Starting to think I dodged a bullet.

H: You literally died.

Ok: I know what I said.

Op: I guess Hitomi dodged the same bullet. Traded in one deadbeat for three smokin’ hot girlfriends. Can’t see how that’s not a win!

G: Uh, her family? Whom she still remembers?

Op: Er…yeah. That’s a good point.

…

Op: Oh, she mad.

Ca: Teenage relationships are just like that sometimes. You feel all these big emotions and-Huh.

Ch: And you throw up yarn all over your room? What’s going on here?

Ok: We’re back on that weird shit again, aren’t we?

Op: Does she not notice any of this?

Ok: She just got shot down by her own boyfriend. Cut her some slack.

Op: Did the bed just…Okay, it ate her. It ate her and threw up even more yarn.

Ca: This is all getting very…witch-like.

G: I thought only Puella Magi could become witches.

Ca: So did I. But clearly my knowledge is very obsolete.

Op: Goddamn, Homulilly! You butterfly-effected the universe something crazy!

H: How is this my fault?

Ch: Oh, there’s another freaky teddy-bear. At least we know how they’re made.

Ok: Teenaged angst?

Ch: Most terrifying force known to mankind.

#WN Rebellion MST

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kmclaude · 5 years

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An AU thought, unfinished: Annemarie as a nun. Not a sexy nun, but someone found out about the whole “preggers with her brother’s baby and sent to a convent as punishment” type nun, who may or may not wind up teaching a bunch on unruly kids and has her fellow sisters breathing down her neck to make sure she doesn’t sin again. But hey, guess who’s the priest/confessor for the order? And considering nuns “have” to obey Fr. Tiefer’s authority…! Not smutty but it’s all I’ve got 🤷🏼‍♀️

oh how decadent! oops my hand slipped!!!

Émile is probably the one who gets mad when he finds out she’s pregnant and who’s kid it is because sure he’s white trash and has been bending his daughter over for years but he draws the line somewhere (and part of it is because he knows Emilein is a freak, he knows he wouldn’t want her so it’s obvious she’s the whole reason for being knocked up – and she’s been using the stupid baby in her fat gut as a shield to mouth off to him and run the joint – why not punish her? Besides, no one in that family can afford another mouth to feed…)

So he pulls Emilein aside, says, “hey, you’re good with that priest, yeah?” and Emilein shrugs, says, “maybe I am,” and braces for a nasty shot about how of course he is, he loves being on his knees, but it never comes, just, “so he knows about like…them wayward girl schools, yeah?” and Emilein plays dumb until his daddy plays his hand: send Annemarie off to a convent or wayward school or hell an asylum – she wants to use a baby to get her way, well then she can get out of the way. Forever.

Emilein, for once, is more than happy to help his daddy out.

He talks to the priest, Fr. Michaud, who has offered him chance and again ways out, one in particular though it would mean the priesthood, and reveals his sister is pregnant (not that it was terribly secret: the whole town was waiting for the day she slipped up at this point) and she is…troubled. And is there a place. The Church. Anything.

Of course Fr. Michaud hesitates because yes there is one nearby but it’s practically an asylum, run by an order on their grounds – cloistered – “And, to be frank, we all know your sister is…not exactly saving herself for anyone…but unless she’s a-a maniac it would be almost cruel–”

And Emilein puts his hand lightly on Fr. Michaud’s, smiles in a way that doesn’t meet his eyes, and says, “You know how she hasn’t named the father? You’d think someone like her’d be going up and down the street, demanding a wedding or at least support, wouldn’t you? But she ain’t. ‘Cause she can’t. Now, remember the first time we actually talked, you an’ me, an’ I told you I’d suck your cock in a heartbeat ‘cause that’s usually how things went with me an’ older men an’ not always by force?”

“Difficult to forget,” says Fr. Michaud, neglecting to mention that most fourteen year olds don’t say that.

“So we both agree I’m…funny.”

“What are you getting at, Emilein?”

“I’m sayin’, the reason she ain’t beatin’ down no po’ bastard’s door to help with her own bastard is ‘cause she doesn’t want anyone to know that the daddy’s her own brother.”

Michaud goes pale and Emilein isn’t smiling any more.

“We both know she don’t interest me much. So, Father, please: help me.”

–

Of course, being a good man, Fr. Michaud helps him, and Annemarie is sent away to have her child (and then work off the debt she’ll have accrued – after all, not like her father and brother can afford to pay.)

Her choice is very simple: go as willingly as she can pretend and nobody has to know about who the father is or fight and Emilein tells (with Fr. Michaud as a witness – Émile, of course, is more than willing to rat her out but really, every other word from his mouth is a lie.)

And life is peaceful – until Émile decides he can fully boss around his son like he did his daughter in a house he doesn’t own.

Emilein is having none of it but Emilein is terribly small and Émile has friends too, friends just as nasty as Annemarie’s boyfriends, and Émile ties him to a bed and starves him and lets all sorts of men use him for days and brags about the money he’s made from him – “shit, cher, we should’ve been whorin’ you out years ago! Guess yer cunt sister was just too jealous to share.”

He lets him go, eventually, after a week that feels like forever and Emilein runs to Fr. Michaud, banging on the church door, and when Fr. Michaud answers his request is much the same as it was before: “please, help me.”

Of course, being a good man, Fr. Michaud helps Emilein Tiefer and gets him connected to the seminary.

–

At twenty-five and with the title of ‘Father’ himself, Tiefer is assigned to a convent in Fuckoff Nowhere, Louisiana to be the priest and confessor on the grounds. Segregated from the opposite sex and the real world for so long only to be thrown headfirst into the wide world, some were realizing, was not the greatest idea: so, the younger were sent off to serve their religious siblings first, particularly their sisters.

The Mother Superior is kind when she greets him on his arrival, a stark contrast to all the rumors of the convent here: it was a convent, yes, that made its daily bread with something of a home for wayward girls – part home, part school (for the younger ones whose unfortunate choices and circumstances left them behind their peers as well as their children, for those who had or expected them), part workhouse so the former two could survive – but for years its nickname had been the asylum because, regardless of how long one worked, much like the TB asylums, the only way out was in a casket.

Which is where, Tiefer always figured, his sister was at this point.

Until, during a tour of the small school on the grounds (as the children would be needing sacraments as well) he sees one of the nuns with the children – though she’s not a nun, not exactly, as she only wears a veil and simple dress and the bangs of her blonde hair peak out and frame her face – and she, in turn, sees him and freezes.

“Mother Superior,” he asks, voice steady as possible, once they’ve passed, once he’s calmed down, “who was that woman?”

“With the children? That’s Sister Anne, one of our success stories – quite a tough one too. She came here, pregnant, no idea who the father was and ready to dare I say fight every one of us sisters who came near. But the Lord works in mysterious ways and eventually He brought her ‘round. She should be taking her vows in a few years.”

“Ah. Do many of your girls usually wind up joinin’ the order?”

The mother superior sighs, sort of pointed in a way that hints that the topic is better put to rest. “Unfortunately, it’s not always part of God’s plan,” she says and then adds, “You sound a lot like she does – how far down South did you come?”

“Very.”

“Hm. She also.”

–

“Sister Anne. A word?”

After all the introductions and required niceties are made, Tiefer doubles back to the classroom of children, led by the novitiate.

“Of course, Father,” she says, the shock from earlier long gone from her face, a little more lined than he’d remembered it, her eyes a little less bright.

“In private?”

He lets her lead the way to a small, unused classroom and locks the door behind them.

“Well. Never thought I’d see you here, Sister.”

She scoffs, the plain novitiate from earlier twisting, like a monster under flesh, into his sister, the way he knew her, cocky attitude and all. “Why not? You put me here.”

“You know what I mean. ‘Sides, he put you here.”

“You helped.”

“Just told the truth is all. You want me to tell the truth again?”

“Can’t send me away again, sugar. Anyway, I’m a changed woman. The success story of these sisters.”

“Ain’t you special, huh?”

“Had to be. Play along or die like the rest.” She looks him over, sixteen years on his twenty-five, sizing him up. “You obviously understand, don’tcha Emi?”

“Father, now, actually.”

“Father, right, Father, now, huh? So Father – what was it? Not enough dicks to suck back home, you had to join the biggest boy’s club around? Or you just get sick of Daddy – bet he was a real sonuvabitch once he didn’t have me ‘round to take his shit out on.”

He cuts her off: “Annemarie. You like it here?”

“You like it where you are?”

He doesn’t answer, simply pulls out a cigarette and his lighter. He watches her reach out, then freeze.

“I’ll share if you tell me what the fuck you’re doin’ playin’ nunnery.”

“I told you. Play along or die. Same as you.”

“You don’t know shit about me or what I been through.”

“An’ you know ‘bout me?”

Tiefer shrugs, lights up. Refuses her one.

“I heard the girls who come here only leave one way.”

“Do I look like I left?”

“Mm.” He offers her a cigarette and a light. Her fingers brush his. He tries not to grab her wrist and crush it. “So this is better? Bein’ a mother to a slew of bastards an’ prayin’ to God who put you here?”

“I dunno, Emi–”

“Do not–”

“Father Emi, you tell me: would you like being worked like a dog to pay off your own existence your fuckin’ family sold off, gettin’ beat ‘cause no one gives a damn about you, and not knowin’ if the priest they brought in to hear confessions this ‘round would rather you suck him off than say you’re sorry. I’m fuckin’ forty-one years old: I wanted something close to freedom, even if it’s from behind a wall an’ veil. ”

Tiefer makes a sound like mock pity. “Sounds like every damn day of my childhood, Annemarie. In fact,” – he grabs her by the jaw, pulls her close, tugs the cigarette from her lips and puts it out against the back of her neck, hidden by her veil – “looks to me like you’re getting off easy, little miss success story.”

“Em–”

“That’s Father to you, now. An’ come to think of it, I’m sure Mother Superior would love to hear what you really did.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Would they put you back in the work house? Or just turn you loose on the streets like a dog. Where you gonna go, Sister? Y’all take vows of poverty last I heard – gonna finally be a real whore and suck dick in the gutter?”

“Please…”

“Please what, pity you?”

Tiefer lets her go, takes a drag from his own cigarette, blocking the door. He grins, more a snarl than anything else.

“Oh Annemarie… You’re right: I wouldn’t dare as long as you don’t give me a reason to. I’m your superior now…let’s start treatin’ me as such, hm?”

He unlocks the door. “An’ Sister Anne? If you thought those other priests who put your ol’ ass on your knees were bad, you’re gonna really regret all your earlier sins against me.”

#character stuff #au where annemarie is a nun #pretreetzi #my writing #writing #callistochan87 #kmclaudereplies #kmclauderepliestoask #kmclaudereplies to ask #kmclaudeart

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chlorue · 4 years

Text

here’s to never growing up

a little shameless fic to sooth your troubles.

Pairing: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich

Description: It was finally Franny's fifth birthday. What did Ian do? Spent two weeks planning it. The party is full of disapproving PTA moms and a new friend for Ian. Ian had spent weeks planning this party and he was damn well sure it was going to turn out well.

word count: 2,814

read on ao3

The sun was bright today. The rays shining on the Gallagher backyard. Ian was frantically running around the backyard making sure everything was in line for his niece's 5th birthday. The entire backyard was decked out in whatever leftover party decorations Ian could find in the basement. Small party tables with fun tablecloths were placed around. Balloons were everywhere. Ian found a pile of streamers in Carl's room and placed them on the stairs and tables. There was no necessary theme to the party, it was just Ian felt obligated to go all out. He had Lip get the cake, Liam to get the other food, Carl to get party favors that weren’t weed, and Mickey to keep Franny and Debbie away from the house. So far everything was looking up.

Ian was sitting on the steps looking at his phone waiting for someone to text him that something was wrong. He would look at his phone lock screen every few seconds, see nothing there, and put back down next to him. Finally his phone dinged. He rushed to pick it up. It was from a small group chat he put together.

the one who sold weed once

hey are we serving alcohol at this party????

the one with a son

Nah, half of us can’t even drink, recovering alcoholic and the lithium thing

the smart one

What about all the PTA moms?

the one with a son

They’ll just have to get over it.

Okay, can you all shut up? This is a five year olds party, we’ll be drinking the soda Liam

gets.

It seemed everyone got the message because they stopped texting. Ian sighed and leaned back. He tried to drown out the sound of buzz on the streets. Luckily Frank was nowhere to be found, he hadn’t been for the past few days. Something shocked Ian out of his small trance. There were voices that were familiar coming down the street. Ian stood up to see Tami with Fred on her and Lip a few paces behind her with a white box in his hands.

“Hey fuckwad!” Lip called when he spotted Ian. Tami swatted him, most likely for the language. “Sorry.” Lip apologized. Lip set the box on a table and pulled his little brother into a hug. Ian pulled away and patted Fred on the head.

“Thanks so much for getting this, you two are amazing!” Ian opened the box to see a rectangular pink cake that had swirly white writing. Happy Birthday Franny! It was perfect and Ian let a small weight off his shoulders.

“Eh, you just owe us for Fred’s 5th birthday.” Tami patted her son's head.

“I can do that.” Ian sighed and smiled. They both looked to be doing better. He had heard about the fight they got into at his wedding and was glad to see them back together. Lip had sent him too many pictures of the house and Fred.

The back door swung open, startling all three of them, revealing Carl and Liam. “What’s up whores!” Carl yelled. Lip, Tami, Ian, and Liam collectively sighed.

“We really need to have a talk about language in this family.” Tami sighed. Ian nodded and took a seat at the table. Liam and Carl made their way down with a lot of bags.

They set them on the table just in time for Mickey to stroll in. Liam started pulling bags of chips out and Lip told him where to put it. “Carl, are you just gonna stand there?” Ian cocked an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” Carl asked and Ian groaned. Lip saw his brother's stress and took Carl away from the table. Tami took Liam and the rest of the bags away from the poor man.

Another presence slipped into the chair next to him and kissed his head. Mickey. Ian pulled his head up to see his husband. He smiled for a second before realizing. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, comforting my stressed out husband?” Mickey smiled.

“Where is Franny? And Debbie?” Ian looked frantically around the backyard. The party wasn’t really a surprise. Ian had asked Debbie two weeks ago if he could plan it, but Ian didn’t expect to really take over his life. He really wanted to be special for the little girl. “You were supposed to be keeping them occupied!” He groaned.

“Calm down hotstuff, did you happen to look at the time?” Mickey cupped Ian’s face and made him face Mickey. Ian was confused, mad and shocked all at the same time. Once Mickey let him out of his hold Ian pulled his phone from his back pocket. The time read 1:45. The party was starting in 15 minutes.

“Fuck.” Ian sighed. Ian had been so focused on things going wrong he must’ve lost track of time. “I’m sorry, I’m just really stressed. I want her to like this.” Ian pulled his hands down his face and faced his husband.

“Dude, she’s 5, she got excited by my name tag yesterday, I think this will fill her to the brim with joy.” Mickey rubbed his shoulder. Ian felt better knowing Mickey was next to him. “Jesus you are tense.”

“Hey Ian!” Tami’s voice broke through the small silence. “People are arriving!”

“Let them in.” He called behind him. Tami gave a thumbs and went back inside. “Well, our backyard is about to be filled with every mom and her kid from Franny’s school, you ready?” Ian asked.

“Jesus, ready for the dirty looks at my hands? I’m used to it by now, so I guess.” Mickey kissed Ian’s cheek before getting up. “Just, uh, holler if you need help. Please don’t put any more stress on yourself.” Mickey smiled before stomping up the stairs. He was met with the first kid and mom. The mom smiled at him and he smiled back before moving into the house.

Ian sighed and got out of his chair. “Ian! So nice to see you!” The mom smiled as she approached Ian.

“Mary!” Ian faked a smile. Mary Lynn was a god damn bitch. She never liked Mickey or Ian. She would pretend to be nice to them and Franny only to go over to the other mom’s to talk about how horrible they were. Ian pretended not to care, but sometimes he would rant to Mickey about how much he wanted to punch her. “You look great!” No she didn’t. Ian was resisting the urge to pull her fake blonde hair off her head.

"Chelsea here is so excited to hang out with Franny! I can’t believe she’s turning five, they grow up so fast!” She gave the fakest laugh Ian had ever heard. Ian returned it.

“Yeah, we’re excited too!” Ian wanted so badly for this conversation to be over. “You can go ahead and find a seat, Franny will be out soon.” Ian gave one last fake smile and pulled his hand from her grip. He walked in the back door only to be met with six more PTA moms.

Today was gonna be a long day.

The party was in full swing now. Franny was running around and playing with her friends while their mothers sat at tables talking. Ian was leaning against the chain-link fence watching his niece run around with a big ass smile on her face.

Another presence took its place next to Ian. He turned to see the dark red hair of his little sister. “Hey, you really didn't have to do this, you know?” Debbie smiled.

“Eh, I didn’t have anything else to occupy my time,” Ian smiled and took a drink from his cup. Debbie patted his shoulder and sighed. “You know, you might want to mingle with the moms over there.”

“Oh, god no. I’d rather not inhale the cheap perfume up close.” Debbie laughed.

“Well them maybe you should go hang out with your daughter, I’m gonna head inside, see what other shit Carl has to drink.” Ian patted his sisters head before walking away. He made his way into the Gallagher kitchen to see the rest of the family scattered through. Liam was plastered by the punch bowls, Lip was by the pack and play with Fred, Carl was sitting on the table, and Mickey was leaning next to the fridge.

“Welcome back,” Carl said, not even looking up from his phone. “Drinks and food are over there, we will be serving cake in 40 minutes.” He deadpanned.

Ian pushed his head, forcing Carl to look up and smile. “Oh, hey man!”

Ian smiled and went over to the counter area, not before throwing his cup away. “Hey, are Kev and V coming?” He leaned over to Liam. He invited the neighbors not only because they were some of his best friends and they loved Franny, but for moral support and help as well.

“Yeah, they just had to close up the Alibi.” Liam sighed and continued to stir the punch. Ian ran his hair through his hair. Then a knock came from the door. “That must be them.” Liam said and turned around.

He was right. Veronica and Kevin were strolling in with Amy and Gemma racing in front of them. “What is up to my favorite people in the world!” Veronica exclaimed as she strutted into the kitchen. Kev waved to everyone, but his attention was clearly on the very eager girls who wanted to get outside and see their friends. “God, it has been way too long!"

“You were two nights ago.” Mickey said. Mickey was now over by the Pac-And-Play with Tami. V shushed and he went back to playing with Fred.

“So Ian, how are you holdin’ up. I know PTA moms can be a handful.” V sighed and placed herself next to Ian.

“I think I’ll be fine with you and Kev here. I texted Fiona earlier for a pep talk.”

“Damn Fi, she always gave some sort of pep talk, shitty or not. They fuckin’ worked.” V sighed and laughed.

“God, can parents please name their children something fucking normal. I swear I literally just met a kid named Neptune.” Lip groaned as he swung open the door. “Also Ian, some people want to talk to you.”

Ian groaned. V gave his hand a squeeze and he took a deep breath. Time to venture back into the unknown.

Ian had been outside for about an hour. Turns out what the mothers wanted to talk to him about was alcohol. Whether he was serving it? Where was it stored in the house with the kids? Ian finally got away from it all. He was sitting in a lawn chair in the shade watching Mickey play with Franny.

“Hey do you mind if I sit?” Ian looked up to see a mom he had never really seen before. She was tall and had blonde hair, like most of them. But this blonde looked real. It was in a high ponytail. Her eyes were blue and her makeup was pretty and subtle. She wore a pink bomber jacket, white undershirt and gray pants.

“Oh, yeah sure, go ahead.” Ian smiled and pointed to the chair next to him.

“Thanks, I was getting tired of listening to Jennifer go on about her failing marriage, and you looked lonely.” The woman smiled.

“Did she tell you the reason it’s failing?”

“No, what is it? Something juicy?”

“Nah, he won’t let her drink more than three tequila shots.”

“That doesn’t seem that bad.”

“ A night. ” Ian smirked and the woman laughed. “I’m Ian by the way.” He held his hand out.

“Amara.” She shook his hand. “This is a really nice party, did you plan it all by yourself?”

“Eh, only a little bit. It’s not like it took up my life for about two weeks.” Ian smiled. Amara laughed. She seemed different from the rest of the moms there. She was fit, like really fit, she seemed a tiny bit dorky, but she was nicer than any of the other moms.

“Tell me about it. When my son turned 4 we held this “small” gathering that ended up turning into a whole block party!” Amara laughed.

“Wow, I feel like that happened when I was like 12. Gallaghers knew and know how to party.” Ian smiled.

“You haven’t seen the chaos that is my company.” Amara smiled. “I’m surprised you aren’t serving alcohol today, PTA moms and all.”

“Oh, basically none of us in this family can drink anymore, other than my little brother and my deadbeat father.” Ian sighed. “My older brother and sister are recovering alcoholics and I can’t drink on my meds. It fucks with my lithium.” Ian takes a swig of the Pepsi in his hands.

“Oh, that sucks. But that’s the South Side for you.” Amara sighed. “My wife and I may have moved to the North Side, but we won't forget the weirdos here.”

“Wait, you’re gay? And South Side?” Ian was now even more interested in this Amara. She was gay. No wonder she was so different then the rest of the moms. And she was raised on the south side. She definitely did not look like it.

“Oh, hell yeah! Most of my company is a part of the LGBT community. And yes, born and raised in a foster home here. That is how I met my wife, Callie. She’s over there playing with our son.” She pointed to a woman with dark skin and brown pixie cut. She was playing with a small boy who looked to be about the same age as Fran.

“Very pretty. My husband and I are born and raised as well. In and out of foster and group homes, though.” Ian smiled.

“You’re gay? No wonder the moms despise and love you.” Amara laughed. “Who’s your husband?”

“Him.” He pointed to Mickey who was now swinging Franny around.

“Oh, is he the one the moms are mad at because of his tattoos?” Amara asked and Ian nodded. “I bet they’re fucking dope, my friend did one of my favorite tattoos.” She pulled her sleeve to expose her wrist. On it was what looked like a heart, but it looked like it belonged to a robot. “I have two more, but they’re on my back.”

“I only have two. One is a military thing, and the other is a set of boobs.” Ian sighed at the memory of the failed tattoo.

“Dope!” Amara beamed and they both laughed. “But why boobs?”

“It was supposed to be a memory of my mother, but it went wrong.” Ian smiled.

“Does your husband have any others, other than the knuckle tats?”

“He has one on his forearm, long story. And my name above his heart.” Ian looked back over at his husband. He was laughing and dancing with Franny. Amara cooed and smiled. “Yeah, he did spell my last name wrong.” He looked over to Amara. She sighed and hung her head back.

Suddenly Franny was in front of them. “Uncle Ian! Let’s do the cake. Pwease?” She gave Ina her best puppy dog eyes. Ian laughed and stood up, hoisting her up.

“You comin?” Ian looked at Amara. She smiled and hoisted herself up, tightening her ponytail.

Everything had settled down by 9 PM. Franny was asleep, Lip and Tami left, Liam was downstairs watching TV and Carl was doing who the fuck knows in his room. Ian came into the room from the bathroom to see his husband leaning against the headboard scrolling on his phone. “Well you are a sight for sore eyes.” Ian said leaning against the doorway. Mickey shot his finger up and Ian laughed. He crawled onto the bed and rested himself right next to Mickey.

“Hey, who were you talking to today? The blonde chick?” Mickey started to play with Ian’s hair.

“Don’t get jealous, she has a wife. And her name is Amara, and she is one of the most cool PTA moms I have ever met. She’s South Side too, her and her wife.” Ian smiled at his husband. Mickey looked slightly amused.

“You know, it was really amazing that you did this for Franny, lord know both of us didn’t get the luxury of this.” Mickey sighed.

“Fiona tried her hardest, but I got sick on my 5th birthday.”

“When are you not sick, honestly?” Ian laughed at Mickey’s comment. Mickey smelled nice. A mix of cigarette smoke and soap. It was a smell that reminded Ian of where his home was. He wanted to move out and get a cat and kid with Mickey, but that was a problem for future Mickey and Ian. Ian was focused on Mickey, not realizing that he was slowly falling asleep. He drifted off, but not before pulling Mickey down with him.

“Thank you.”

#shameless #shameless fic #shameless us #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #my fic #my wriitng #all mistakes are my own #mickey and ian #amara and callie may or may not be based off adora and catra

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banditthewriter · 6 years

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Set It Up, Knock It Down - Billy Russo

Prompt: Hey, Bandit! Hope you’re doing well. Could I request something for Billy in which the reader is friends with Frank and he asks her if she has any friends they could set Billy up with? She isn’t close to Billy but she finds him attractive, and at first it doesn’t bother her to set him up but during the process they grow feelings for each other or whatever. You can take the story wherever you want. Thanks in advance! Prompter: @meloxique

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Enjoy!

*****

The music was a little familiar, but you weren’t able to place it. You nodded along with the beat, humming even though you weren’t certain you actually knew the beat. It had been a pretty rough week and you were ready to unwind.

“You look rough,” Frank said as he settled down next to you with a raised eyebrow.

“Thanks Frank, that’s so sweet of you,” you joked as you put your hand on your chest. “If you weren’t a married man, I’d think you were hitting on me.”

He knocked his shoulder into yours and flagged down the bartender to order a drink. When he had asked you to join him for a drink, you hadn’t thought twice. The two of you met up every so often for drinks or a meal. Usually he had Maria with him, but he looked to be solo tonight.

“How’s Maria and the kids?”

The light in his eyes could rival the sun. He pulled out his phone to show you the pictures he’d taken at Lisa’s recital. And then he showed you a video of Frankie’s soccer game which included him clothes-lining one of the other kids.

“I feel like that’s probably not a move that was taught at practice,” you laughed as you rewound to watch the video again.

Frank shook his head as he accepted the phone back from you.

“Nah, he learned that from Bill.”

Ah, Bill. You weren’t above the petty feeling whenever Frank’s other best friend was mentioned or around. Not that you didn’t want him to have friends, but did it have to be Billy Russo?

The colorful personality made him a winner around the kids, Maria was half in love with him, and him and Frank had bonded during the service. You weren’t quick enough to stop the look on your face and Frank laughed. He shook his head as he looked away from you.

“You’d probably not like to know that you and Billy have a lot in common, would you? Because both of you act like I just spat on the table when I mention the others name.”

“Okay one, that’s just gross,” you huffed with a grimace, the image making you shudder. “And two, you’re kidding me right? What does William have to be grumpy about when it comes to me?”

Frank laughed and draped his arm around your shoulders.

“Take your pick. He doesn’t like that he has to share us with you, he doesn’t like that you don’t seem charmed by him, he doesn’t like that you–”

“Back up Frank,” you blurted with wide eyes, “are you telling me that Billy has tried to charm me? I’ve seen women fall at his feet with him not even doing anything. How’d I not notice when he tried to charm me?”

Frank sighed, a long suffering sound that you were used to from him. He rocked you a bit before he released you to grab his beer.

“Jesus my best friends are children,” he complained until you kicked him in the shin. “Alright, dammit, stop kicking me. I’m guessing that means you taught that to my daughter. Billy flirted with you a lot when you two first met. I told him it wouldn’t work, but he’s resilient.”

You thought back to when you first met Billy and yeah, maybe looking back it was flirting. You’d been going through a rough break up at the time and you hadn’t even noticed the breathtakingly attractive man that asked if you’d like to have a sleepover when you’d joked about sleeping naked.

Oh wow, you really did miss that.

“It’s actually because of Bill that I wanted to talk to you.”

Frank sounded worried and your mind automatically cycled through all of the bad things that might have happened.

“Is everything okay? What can I do to help?”

He looked surprised. Maybe because you were usually lukewarm to Billy, but that didn’t matter if something was wrong. You weren’t heartless; Billy wasn’t a bad guy just because he annoyed you sometimes. You guys actually got along sometimes.

Most of your animosity was just habit at this point.

“Can you help me find someone for him to date?”

There was a beat of silence where you wondered if you had heard him correctly. When he still seemed as serious as he had before he said those words, you burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry,” you chortled gleefully. “You need my help to find the underwear model a girlfriend?”

“He’s not–” he began and then sighed. “There’s a lot more to Bill than meets the eye, but I think sometimes he needs to remember that. He’s never been with the same person for more than a few weeks and I just want more than that for him.”

You propped your chin on your fist as you stared at Frank. Eyes narrowed, you tried to think about it realistically.

“Is Billy going to be aware of me doing this or is this a secret?”

He took that as your agreement and turned to face you.

“He knows. He wasn’t happy with my idea to ask you, but he preferred it to the alternative: Maria.”

That made you laugh. You lifted your glass to Frank’s for a brief toast.

“To Billy’s future happiness.”

Frank rolled his eyes but tapped the bottom of his beer bottle against yours.

This was gonna be interesting.

------

“Did you actually make a slideshow?”

You shoved Billy over to make room for you and your bowl of popcorn. If you were going to do this, you were doing it right. You grabbed the tablet from his hands and messed with the settings so that it projected it onto his television.

“God, I need a drink,” he complained as he grabbed the beer on the coffee table and drained half of it in one go.

“Should I put that you’re an alcoholic on my con list for you?”

Billy glared at you and then grabbed a handful of popcorn from your bowl before he gestured at the television. You took that as a go ahead and you went to the next slide.

“So I have these broken up into three categories. The first are the girls that I think would be good for you, the second are the girls I think you’d be good for, and the last are the girls that I’ve had a grudge against since high school and I’d really like to see which one of you would come out with your dignity intact.”

That made him snort. He tossed some of the popcorn at you and you dusted them off before you swiped to the next slide.

“I didn’t know if this was a women only kind of thing, so I do have some other options if you’re interested?”

He shook his head as he took another sip from his bottle.

“Only cock I like in a relationship is mine,” he said as he patted his crotch before he stood up and headed to the kitchen. “You want another?”

“I have a feeling I’ll need it,” you said in distastefully as you shook your head and looked back at your slideshow.

Was the slideshow overkill? Yes. But you’d agreed to do this so you weren’t doing half measures. Billy could kick you out at any time but you thought that he was being very submissive to Frank’s wishes on this.

Or… did the great man-whore Billy Russo actually want to find love?

He settled back onto the couch next to you, jostling your lap but not enough to tip the bowl. He handed you a new beer and held his up for a second before he took a sip.

“Couldn’t I save us all some time and just get on Tinder or something?”

“You’re looking for love, not a quick lay,” you reminded him easily as you pulled the tablet to you once more. “My one and only Tinder date ended with the guy taking me to a warehouse and me having to lie to him and tell him I worked for the cops to get him to let me to leave.”

He looked at you gobsmacked. Then he shook his head.

“You’re shitting me,” he accused.

“I shit you not. After that I decided that I’d rather find someone organically.” You paused and then shrugged a shoulder as you took a long sip from your drink. “I’m not good at finding love for myself, but I’ve gotten a bunch of my friends hooked up with their S.O’s so I’m not giving up.”

He leaned his head back onto the backrest of the couch. Then he rolled his head so that he could see you, one eyebrow raised.

“If you can’t do, teach?”

You glared but the man did have a point. Graciously he gestured at the slideshow and you nodded as you pulled up the first potential.

“Now Ellie is a great girl. She’s beautiful, kind, funny. She is actively looking for that perfect guy that will treat her right. How do you feel about ferrets? She has six.”

“Next,” Billy said with a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest to get comfortable.

Well. This was going just fantastic.

------

The date had ended horribly. If horrible and terrible had a child, it was the date that Billy had gone on with bachelorette number four. Melinda had seemed like such a good fit for him. How were you supposed to know that she was violently against the military?

At least he didn’t get slapped. Again.

He slumped down next to you at the bar and shook his head, eyes wide as he stared down at the bartop.

“We’ll find the girl for you,” you promised as you flagged the bartender down for a drink. “She’s out there. She’s just stubborn or hiding or–”

“Or she doesn’t exist. Let’s be real,” he said with a disgusted shake of his head, “I don’t deserve love. I don’t deserve what Frankie and Maria have. I’ll never find someone that gets me, that… I won’t get that.”

You reached out and covered his wrist with your hand. While you had started this whole mess as just helping out Frank, you had come to care for Billy. And seeing him like this when usually he was more vivacious and easier to laugh?

It scared you.

“Don’t say that Billy. You deserve love, okay, and we’ll find you someone. It’s just been four dates, we still have time and other options. I can show you–”

“No more,” he barked out as he stood up, pushing away from the bar and away from you. “I played nice for Frankie, I did what he wanted because he’s my brother, but I’m done. Four dates and you know what, I haven’t enjoyed them. Hell, I’ve enjoyed listening to you list what’s wrong with me more than I’ve enjoyed going on dates.”

He started to walk away and you swore as you threw down a few bills to cover the drinks before you chased after him.

“Billy, it’s–”

“I swear to god Y/N, don’t you dare say it’s going to be okay. I don’t care!” He whirled around to face you, eyes dark and pinning you to the spot. “I don’t care about finding love and finding someone to hold my hand. I was happy to just fuck my way through life and you know what, I was good at it. So I’m going to get back to my strengths. Tell Frankie I’m sorry.”

He stormed off and climbed into his car, peeling out of the parking lot and down the road before you could even think of anything else to say. You weren’t sure what broke the dam, but you knew you needed to fix it.

That in mind you grabbed your phone and dialed one of your speed dials. It rang three times before there was an answer.

“Frank? I think we need to re-evaluate this whole thing.”

------

The apartment door looked more like a prison door. You swallowed heavily and marched forward, banging on the door before you could lose your nerve. It didn’t take long before it swung open to reveal a shirtless Billy that looked like shit.

“What the fuck,” he mumbled as you pushed past him.

Wherever this steel nerve came from, you hoped it stuck around. You could really use this to negotiate a raise at work.

“We aren’t done here Russo. Things might suck right now but I’m not giving up and neither are you. Frank is right and you deserve someone that’s going to be around for more than one night. You deserve… oh.”

A half dressed woman came out of the bedroom. She was wearing one of Billy’s button up shirts, half unbuttoned and falling attractively around her chest. Her legs looked to be longer than you were tall, her long blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun that deserved to be in a magazine.

“Jesus you’re quick,” you muttered as you turned away from where the woman had disappeared into the bathroom.

“I don’t think she’d say that,” he teased with a smirk. When you didn’t return with a quip, he cleared his throat and took a step towards you. “You mean that? That you aren’t giving up on me?”

You swallowed and blinked a few times before you looked up to meet his eyes.

“I mean, I’m not giving up on finding you love. What about, uh, what about her? Is she a once kind of gal or should we save a place for her at Sunday dinner with the Castles?”

His grin widened a bit as he looked over your shoulder in the direction of the bedroom.

“She’s definitely not a once kind of gal, if you know what I mean,” he said with a lewd grin. And then, as if remembering who he was talking to, he straightened up a bit and shook his head. “But no, she’s not the person I could see myself spending the rest of my life with.”

The bathroom door opened and you heard the patter of her bare feet as she crossed back into the bedroom. You glanced behind you when the door shut. Then with a grimace you reached out and grabbed a bra that had been draped over the edge of the couch by the strap and held it out to him.

“Well I’ll let you handle… that. If you decide you do want to continue, you know where to find me. I’ll just be revamping my vetting process to make sure no anti-military Melindas make it through the final cuts.”

He smiled and gave you a quick nod, crossing his arms over his chest with the bra hanging from one hand.

You weren’t surprised that he had found someone within just a short time period to warm his bed. Who could tell him no?

------

For about two weeks after that, you are faced with the startling fact that you really didn’t like the idea of Billy being with anyone else. It had been all theoretical, even when he was on dates, but seeing that girl in his apartment? And knowing what they had done the night before?

It felt like your stomach was made out of lead. And not in a way that made it possible for you to eat a lot of really spicy foods and drink enough alcohol to kill a large mammal.

You cared about Billy. You didn’t want to see him throw away his chance at happiness.

You cared about Billy. You knew he was worth more than just sleeping with nameless, faceless, apparently inhibition-less models.

You cared about Billy. You wanted him to be happy, to be in a relationship, to be in love.

You cared about Billy.

Fuck.

Did you love Billy?

------

“Here,” Billy said as he handed you another beer, settling onto the couch next to you. “You look a little glum. Aren’t you the one that made a slideshow for our first date?”

“That wasn’t a date,” you blurted out as you sat up a little straighter, mentally wincing at the squeak in your voice.

“I know,” he said slowly, sitting up as well, “I just meant… are you okay? You look a little rough.”

You jumped on the excuse.

“Yeah, I think I’m coming down with something. Do you mind if we talk strategy another time? I just really wanna go home and rest.”

He nodded and grabbed the drink from you, moving as if he was going to help you stand.

“Of course. Text me if you need anything. We’ll meet up later.”

You rushed out of his apartment and sighed as you stepped into the elevator. It wasn’t like you planned on avoiding him forever, but surely you could for a while? At least until you got a grip on your emotions.

Figuring out that you had feelings for someone was shocking enough. That that person was Billy? Billy Russo for god's sake! The very man you had spent so long ignoring and picking on and dreading to see…

Actually, it made perfect sense.

At your place, you slumped onto your couch and closed your eyes. Your options were pretty limited.

You could keep trying to set Billy up with someone. You could step away and tell him you weren’t able to help him anymore. You could confess your feelings.

Nah, that last one was definitely not an option.

You were leaning towards stepping away when a knock at your door made you sit up. It wasn’t late but you weren’t expecting anyone. Especially since you were supposed to be at Billy’s.

Another knock had you standing up and grumbling. You moved over to the door and checked the peep hole to see who it was.

What… Billy?

You opened the door and gave him a confused look.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged a shoulder and came in, a brown paper bag under his arm. He set it on your table and started to pull items out of it.

Medicine. He bought medicine for you.

“I wasn’t sure what you were coming down with so I bought half the first aid aisle.”

You looked at the things he had gotten you and you felt your heart to speed up. This man had gone to a store and purchased a bunch of medicine just because you weren’t feeling well. He brought it all the way over to you.

Confession was off the table. And you didn’t think you could try to set him up with someone without feeling like you were breaking your own heart.

That left only one option.

“I can’t help you anymore,” you said miserably as you stared at the medicines on your table.

Billy shifted from foot to foot before he let out a short laugh.

“I uh, okay. Why? Is it because I’m hopeless?”

He wasn’t hopeless. You were. But you didn’t tell him that either.

“I just can’t, okay?” You stood up and pushed past him to open your door once more. “I really want to be alone right now.”

You stared at his back for a moment before you heard him let out a dark chuckle. When he turned around to face you, you couldn’t place the emotion on his face.

“You said you weren’t giving up on me.”

It’s good that a heart breaking didn’t make a sound because you didn’t want to have to explain how much that hurt. Instead you lifted your chin so that you could meet his eyes.

“Please Billy,” you begged softly, holding on to your nerves by the tiniest thread.

He didn’t say anything else. Instead he just gave a harsh nod before he walked through the door, letting it slam shut behind him.

You closed your eyes and sniffled. It wouldn’t do any good to cry. He wasn’t yours to lose. He was just Frank’s friend.

He wasn’t yours. He wasn’t.

------

“Hey Frankie,” you said as you walked into the house and straight into his open arms.

He had taken one look at your face and immediately went into protective mode. You were getting a glimpse of what Lisa would have when she got older and a boy broke her heart.

“Want me to get Maria? This a woman thing?”

You laughed and pulled back, wiping your eyes. The offer was sweet, especially because you knew he would. Except it wasn’t necessary because Maria was hovering in the doorway with a worried look on her face.

“Do we need to cut someone’s balls off?”

“Goddamn woman,” Frank said with half a laugh before he helped you over to the couch, “she always goes for the balls. But seriously, what’s going on? Want me to have a talk with someone?”

That thought made you laugh. Instead you shook your head and tried to take a deep breath.

“I’m just… trying to handle some things and I didn’t want to be alone.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Maria said as she settled down next to you, her hand finding yours immediately. “But please Y/N, you gotta give us something here. We haven’t seen you like this since you and what’s-his-name broke up.”

You didn’t say anything to that. It wasn’t a break up because there wasn’t anything to break, but that’s what it felt like. It was the loss of something. Or the loss of the potential of something.

“A break up? But you didn’t tell me you were dating someone,” Frank accused as he sat on the other side of you. “Who was it? Want me to kick his ass? I’ll grab Bill and we’ll… Jesus, did I break her?”

You were sobbing and you couldn’t stop it. The problem was that you were also laughing because it was just your luck.

You weren’t supposed to fall for Billy. You weren’t supposed to be crying over him. This was all a mistake.

“Frank, why don’t you check on the kids?” Maria gave Frank a pointed look and he stood up, holding his hands up as he left the two of you alone. Once he was out of ear shot, Maria turned to you with a look. “Don’t tell me you slept with him.”

You choked on your own spit for a second before you met her eyes.

“What? No, Maria, no!”

She sighed as she patted your hand.

“Must mean you’ve got it bad,” she said sympathetically.

That made you laugh. You wiped at your eyes and shook your head as you gained your senses back.

“This wasn’t the plan. I wasn’t supposed to fall for him; I was just supposed to help him find someone to love.”

“Well maybe you did,” she said softly as she squeezed your hand. “Maybe you’re the person he’s been looking for.”

You shook your head and looked down at your hands.

“He wasn’t looking for me. He was looking for… god, he probably already has someone in his bed tonight.”

Maria made a face that said that that was a definite possibility. Then she stood up and dusted off her jeans.

“You need to go to him. If he doesn’t have someone, he will at some point. And if he does, he should know how you feel anyways. You have to tell him.” And softer, “He deserves to know. And you deserve to tell him.”

She was right. With a deep breath, you stood up and gave her a quick hug.

“Tell Frank I’ll see him later? And maybe explain what’s going on to him. I don’t think this is what he had planned when he asked me to help.”

Maria laughed and kissed your cheek. And with that, you hurried back to your car.

------

“Where’d Y/N go?”

Maria sat down next to her husband and smiled.

“She’s gone to tell Billy she’s in love with him. And if my theory is correct, he feels the same and will probably be elated by the news. If he doesn’t fuck it up.”

Frank nodded slowly, his eyes widening as he looked at Maria in a new light.

“You planned this. You were the one that told me to ask her to help him.”

She smiled wider and kissed his cheek.

“They are perfect for each other if they can just both get past the bullshit and see it.”

Frank sighed as he thought about his two best friends.

“Might wanna cross our fingers honey. Just in case.”

------

“Please don’t be with someone else, please don’t be with someone else, please don’t be with someone else.”

It was your mantra as you stood outside of Billy’s door. The thought of walking in on him and another girl du jour made a bitter taste fill your mouth.

With the courage instilled in you by Maria, you knocked on the door. And then immediately regretted it.

What would you say if he didn’t feel the same? What if he laughed at you? What if he was disgusted?

The door opened before you had a chance to think of an answer to any of that. Billy narrowed his eyes at you but he opened the door wider for you to come in.

“Thanks,” you mumbled for lack of anything else to say.

You also shot a surreptitious look towards his bedroom but it looked like he was alone.

“Didn't want the guys watching the security camera to think you were a high class escort.”

That made you frown and you turned to look at Billy.

“I look like an escort?”

“I said high class,” he defended as he moved past you and back into his living room.

Like that had been your issue with the comparison. But you ignored it in favor of frowning when you saw the mostly empty bottle of scotch on his coffee table.

“Have you been drinking?”

He shrugged his shoulder as he poured a glass. He offered it to you, but you declined.

“I find it relaxing after one of my friends tosses me to the side like I'm trash.”

You weren't sure which part of that sentence hurt worse—him calling you friends or him saying you treated him like trash.

Eager to wipe that away, you sat down next to him and reached out to grab his hand. He let you have it, even rubbed his thumb against the side of your hand.

“I don't think you're trash Billy; I think you're great. You're amazing really. I love how smart you are. I love that you don’t settle for things. I love that you call me on my bullshit. I love…”

You weren’t ready to say the rest of that sentence. As you took a breath to try again, Billy seemed to get tired of sitting there and listening. He sprang up from the couch, the scotch sloshing in the glass and trickling onto the carpet under you.

“I get it, okay, I get it. I’m not trash, I’m some sort of treasure, right? But still not good enough. Still not enough redeemable qualities to have someone love me.”

Lord, how much had he had to drink? You stormed over to him and grabbed the drink from him. You were about to put it down but you decided to quickly drain it first. Afterwards you put the drink on his coffee table.

He looked shocked but you didn’t focus on that. Instead you took a deep breath and let it all out.

“I love you Billy. That’s why I can’t help you find someone, but I don’t want to see you with someone else. I freaked out and I pushed you away when I should have just told you the truth. I fell for you and I don’t know how you feel about me, but I wasn’t ready to handle my feelings so I pushed.”

Yeah, you had started rambling at one point, but the words were out. No taking those back. You stared at Billy for a mere foot apart and waited to see how the rest of this would play out.

A clock somewhere in the room ticked the seconds by. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Why had you never noticed how annoying that was before?

“Billy, just say something,” you said with a nervous laugh, backing up another foot. “Tell me I’m an idiot. Tell me to leave. Tell me that we’re better off as friends. Tell me that I’m insane for thinking you’d ever feel the same. Tell me–”

Lips crashed against yours and your gasp was swallowed as he tugged you in closer, his hands cupping the back of your head to angle the kiss. You couldn’t help the light moan that came out as you gripped onto his shirt and tugged, your body pressed along his from lips to toes.

He pulled back first and dropped his forehead to yours. You closed your eyes and waited. Waited for him to say that this was wrong, that he didn’t mean it. That he was just trying something.

“Took you long enough,” he complained lightly as he pulled back. At your surprised look, he laughed and shook his head. “Why do you think those other dates didn’t go past one date? You really think I can’t charm someone into at least three dates before they realize it’s not working?”

That… was interesting. But it also meant…

“You slept with someone else. How am I supposed to realize that you… and me… if you’re boinking Exhibitionist Barbie?”

He laughed and tilted your face up to his. He kissed you again, short and sweet and not distracting at all.

Well maybe a little.

“I didn’t realize you were an option. I thought that you were out of my league, that you probably hated me a little. I didn’t think I was anything but a joke to you.”

Oh god. You wanted to laugh. Or maybe cry again.

“So we’re both idiots. This is refreshing.”

He laughed at that, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“I love you too. Don’t think I said that yet.”

He hadn’t, but the words made you feel... beyond happy. You leaned into him a little more and laughed as you dropped your forehead to his shoulder.

“Oh god, we’re going to have to explain this to Frank and Maria.”

His laughter rumbled in his chest and you leaned back to meet his eyes.

“Frank probably won’t need much convincing, but Maria? If she hasn’t already picked out the wedding colors, I’ll give up drinking.”

Your laughter was silenced by another kiss. And you were more than okay with that.

------

Frank grunted as his phone went off. He grabbed it from the side table and flicked open the notification. A smile spread over his lips and he forwarded it to Maria who was in the other room helping Frank Jr with his homework.

He heard her phone ding and then he heard her happy squeal. He shook his head and typed back a response before he put his phone back down.

Those two had finally figured it out.

------

Mission accomplished brother. Think I found the one.

Hold on to that one Bill. She’s a keeper.

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ohnojustimagine · 5 years

Text

One Soul Less

Sanada/Reader/Evil; 3350 words, smut.

Faux-Historical AU. Totally made-up fantasy world with no basis in reality.

Content notes: there is some pretty dubious consent here and also a little bit of implied (background and completely offscreen) noncon.

The wars have raged for years now, and no corner of the kingdom has escaped the relentless advance of their devastation. Your own village was once far away from the front lines of battle, far enough that you were, for a time, able to delude yourself into thinking that your own existence would not be affected by conflict, that you might be able to live something resembling a normal life.

You were even hopeful enough to marry, though you were granted only a few short months of happiness before your husband was called to fight, and it was not so very long after that that you received news of his death.

Your village has been reduced to only women and children, a few elderly and frail men, and the armies of the enemy clan, Los Ingobernables, draw closer day by day.

Some of the other young women say they would rather die than be taken by Los Ingobernables, such is the clan's legendary savagery, but you are not so sure. You want to survive, more than anything, determined that your life will not be wasted, and so you resolve that you will do whatever it takes, whatever is necessary, though you try not to think about what that might actually mean.

And so when the time comes, you do not put up a fight. An advance party of Los Ingobernables soldiers arrive one morning on horseback, laughing to find how unprotected the village is, and though they take what meager food and provisions they can find, it is clear that what they seek most of all is women. You and the others of marrigeable age are rounded up, jeered at by the soldiers as your hands are bound at your back and you are tied together, a line of rope connecting you.

They do not touch you, not yet, marching you out of the village, across the empty plains and towards the far horizon, and after some time, you look back. Plumes of black smoke drift up into the sky, and you know they have burned your homes, likely killed anyone left behind. You take a deep breath, turning forward to face whatever fate awaits you, and though you muster all the courage you can, you stumble a little, your resolve wavering for just a moment.

"Hey," one of the men says, glaring down at you from his position on horseback, cracking his whip, catching you on your shoulder with a stinging flick. "Keep up, you lazy bitch," he orders.

"Careful," another of the soldiers warns him. "Commander says that one's out of bounds."

"Why?" his compatriot asks. "They're all just whores."

The other man shrugs. "She's the prettiest of them, he wants to save her for Lord Evil and Lord Sanada."

And a chill of fear runs through your body at the sound of the names, rushing cold in your blood, because Lord Evil and Lord Sanada are infamous as some of the most ruthless of Los Ingobernables' leaders, and if you have indeed been chosen for their particular favor, then your decision to survive at any cost may be one you come to regret.

But it is too late to resist, and so you walk on with the other women. You are not allowed to speak to one another, but the soldiers let you rest for a while when the sun is high in the sky, distributing water among you so you can drink. Yet you are soon urged back onto your feet, marching on, and darkness is just falling as you finally reach the enemy camp.

Fires burn, and there are tents and tethered horses almost as far as you can see in the dimming light. A murmur goes up as you enter the camp, and men surround you, leering, lust written dark over their faces.

Orders are barked out by the commander who has led you in, and the other women, most of them already crying, are taken away towards some of the larger tents, but you are held back, and you can only hope and pray that being deemed more valuable, worthy of being offered to the men of higher status, means that your fate will not be so unfortunate.

The commander grabs your arm, straining your shoulder as your hands are still bound behind you, but he pays no heed, dragging you towards a tent set up in the middle of the camp. It is cleaner and seemingly more sturdily constructed than any of the others, and you can hear voices from within, but the man stops with you outside. He looks you up and down, and rather than untie you, he pulls out a knife and simply cuts your clothing off your body, giving you a lascivious smile as he tears away your underclothes, leaving you naked.

"There," he says. "All pretty for their lordships." He stares at your breasts for a moment, reaching down to rub at his crotch through his clothing, sucking in a breath. He is tempted to touch you, you can tell, but he restrains himself, instead pulling you into the tent.

It is warm, a small stove burning in the center of the space, rugs covering the ground beneath your feet, and there are men, dressed in finer clothes than anyone you have so far seen. They all sit cross-legged, forming a circle, drinking and laughing, eating from trays of food placed in front of them, and a slight hush falls as you enter and they turn to stare at you, curious.

You blush furiously, unable to cover your nakedness, desperately trying not to meet their eyes, and as your vision adjusts to the light, you see there are two ornate chairs at the far side of the tent, with two men seated in them. You swallow, your heart beating faster, fear creeping over you. Because you know exactly who they are, and their presence is as intimidating as the legends have told.

The talk you have heard of them would suggest that the slightly more heavyset man with dark paint smudged under his eyes is Lord Evil, and the other, taller man with lightened hair and beard is Lord Sanada. They both gaze at you, their expressions betraying no interest, detached and aloof.

"My lords," the man beside you says, bowing and then shoving you forward until you are standing in front of them, trembling. "We captured and destroyed the village a day's march from here." A few murmurs of approval stir from the assembled men, and your captor goes on, bolder now, saying, "There were not many spoils to be had, but we took the women, and saved the finest one for your lordships."

Neither Lord Evil nor Lord Sanada speak, both regarding you with an air of faint disdain, and it makes you fear, that they do not seem to find you something to be at all desired.

"She is untouched, my lords," the soldier continues, as if hopeful, wanting to impress and aware he is failing. "Absolutely pure, I promise you."

Lord Evil nods, but not in any particularly approving way, and says, "Take her through there, leave her." He gestures at a curtained-off area, and the soldier bows again, eager. He drags you away, pushing you through the draped fabric into a smaller section of the tent, where most of the space is taken up by a slightly raised sleeping place piled high with thick, soft-looking furs, and you breathe in at the sight of it, knowing what awaits you here.

The man looks back to check that you are hidden from view, and then grabs a rough handful of your buttocks, squeezing, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out at the sudden hurt of it. He laughs, mouth curling up into a sneering grin, exposing his rotting teeth. "Enjoy yourself, pretty," he says, and then is gone.

You wait, wondering hopelessly what would happen if you tried to escape, but you are not that foolish, and so you take a deep breath, calming yourself as best you can. You will live, you tell yourself. You are determined to live, and you will survive this.

It is not so long before their lordships enter, and Lord Evil quickly unfastens the ropes that bind you. You breathe out, the ache in your shoulders easing, watching as he throws himself down on the furs, leaning back on his arms and looking you over, seemingly still unimpressed. "Do you want her?" he asks.

Lord Sanada remains standing, and shrugs, displaying no enthusiasm at the prospect of taking you. "Why must they always bring us the virgins?" he asks. "They're all the same, so timid and afraid."

"You know it would be a mark of disrespect," replies Lord Evil, "to offer up a woman who has been used."

"I would not mind," Lord Sanada says, "a woman who has been used." He sighs. "At least she would know how to please a man, without having to be taught."

Lord Evil stares disconsolately at you. "Perhaps we should send her out to the men," he says. "They do like virgins."

"I..." you start, but then hesitate, not sure if you are permitted to speak, and they both frown slightly, seemingly surprised at your forwardness. But then Lord Evil waves his fingers at you, indicating that you should continue. "I-I am not a virgin," you say, then add, with a submissive bow of your head, "my lords."

"Did our men take you?" Lord Evil asks, his voice suddenly sharp, and you assume he is suspicious the soldier lied about leaving you untouched.

"No, my lord," you state. "They did not touch me. I have... I had a husband."

"Had?" says Lord Evil. "Is he now dead?"

"He was killed in the wars." By your men, you want to say, but you remain silent.

"You are young to be a widow, how long were you married?" Lord Sanada asks.

"Barely three months."

"And was your husband a good man?" he says.

"He was truly a good man."

"Did you please him?"

You feel heat rise on your cheeks at so frank a question but it seems modesty is not a trait either of them favor, so you look Lord Sanada in the eyes, and answer, plainly, "Yes, I did."

"Hmm," he muses, as if now at least somewhat interested. "Perhaps you can please us, then."

He does not say anything further, simply untying his belt but not making any more motion to remove his clothes. He regards you with a steady, unwavering gaze, and you are guessing this is some kind of test, that he will deliberately not command you, wanting to see if you are as experienced as you have claimed. And you certainly know enough to realize exactly what he is implying you should do, and so you take a deep breath. Survival, you tell yourself, walking to stand before him and then falling to your knees. You swallow nervously, carefully pulling aside his robes and underclothes and exposing him, his manhood.

You close your eyes for a moment, but then open them again, staring at it. It is soft, though even in this state, it is not small, and you lean in closer, gently pressing a kiss to the shaft of it. You glance up, and he nods at you, approving, and so you continue.

You stroke him, and he begins to grow underneath your touch, your fingers curling around him, feeling the way he fits into your hand, strange but somehow familiar and suddenly, memories of your husband rush into your mind, how you once touched him like this, how he would respond, the way he looked at you

When you were together, it felt as if there were no one but the two of you in the whole world, everything else forgotten and it is those thoughts that you try to hold on to as you lower your head, taking Lord Sanada's manhood in your mouth.

You suck on him, circling your tongue around him before sliding your lips down over him, as far as you can before moving back up, stroking him with your hand, the wetness your mouth has left on him easing the caress as you again use your tongue on the topmost part of him.

You close your eyes, willing yourself to recall past times with your husband, when you performed this act eagerly and wholeheartedly, aware that if you can fool your body into even the barest arousal, then things will go easier for you, later.

"Your husband taught you well, it seems," Lord Sanada says, and there is an edge to his voice, a slight hoarseness that speaks of desire. You redouble your efforts, determined that none of this should be in vain, and he rests one hand on the back of your head. You inhale, ready, expecting that he will force you further down onto him, push himself into your throat, but his touch is surprisingly undemanding, almost gentle.

And so you continue, until your jaw begins to ache, but you go on, and you can tell that he is close to finishing when he finally says, "Enough."

You sit back, opening your eyes, staring up at him, and though you can see that he is breathing heavily, the expression on his face remains strangely neutral.

Lord Evil is still leaning back, watching, but now he sits up. "Come here," he beckons you, and you crawl up beside him, trying not to be afraid, or at least not allow your fear to show. You had thought men like this, so famed for their cruelty, would be aroused by a woman's fear, but it appears Lord Evil and Lord Sanada have their own particular tastes, and you will do whatever you can to fulfil their needs.

"Lie back for me," he says, and you obey, the furs spread there soft under your bared skin. You open your legs wide for him without being asked, wanting to seem willing, and you assume he will want to take you, but he settles himself between your thighs, tracing his fingertips up and over the tender skin on the inside of your legs. "Let us see, then," he says, the words almost murmured, "if you also know how to receive pleasure." And then he bends to you, his mouth pressed to your most intimate parts, his tongue drawing through the folds there, slowly at first, as if with studied care, but his vigor increases as you become wetter, opening to him as he licks you. Because it would seem he is something of an expert in this art, much more skilled than your husband ever was, and you whimper, helpless, the sound desperate in your own ears, your fingers threading through the furs beside you, scrabbling to find purchase, needing something to hold on to before you lose yourself completely.

You feel movement, distracting you, and you look to see Lord Sanada kneeling up next to you. He is naked now, his body spectacularly masculine, broad-chested and muscular, and you cannot help letting out a most improper moan at the sight of him, but he does not react. He drinks from a fine ceramic cup, staring intently at your face as he idly strokes his manhood with his other hand, still coolly composed. Yet after a few minutes he sets down the cup and lies beside you, licking at your lips until you part them for him, his tongue slipping full and warm into your mouth with the sharp taste of sake.

You whine, because Lord Evil has not stopped, has only intensified his attentions, and you can sense something unstoppable rising within you, the rush of it quickened by your shame, that you are finding pleasure in being with these men, men who are responsible for so much death and destruction. But you cannot control it, wanton as you are, your body arching up in completion, Lord Evil holding you down as his mouth only sends you to even greater heights, Lord Sanada kissing you even more deeply, consuming you until you feel you cannot bear it, but then it peaks, and passes.

They both sit up, Lord Evil licking his lips, as if to catch every last taste of you, and you blush.

"She is very... responsive," he says, like that fact pleases him, and Lord Sanada nods.

For a minute neither of them speak, but then they look at each other, some silent understanding between them, and Lord Sanada positions himself on top of you, lying over you, gripping his manhood, entering into you without resistance, your body only open and ready for him.

You are still aching from Lord Evil's mouth, but it only seems to enhance the sensation of Lord Sanada inside you, make it better as he thrusts himself in and out of you, his hips moving smoothly, the motion of it so practiced and skilful that it leaves you gasping.

And then all at once he ceases, pulling out of you, shifting to one side, and you are suddenly afraid, wondering if you have failed to please him, but it would appear that he is only making way for Lord Evil, who is now also unclothed, his member standing proud and potent, waiting to fill you.

It is bigger than Lord Sanada's, as is the rest of his body, thick with muscle, his strength obvious, and you let out a small cry as he slides home inside you, but he does not hesitate, let you adjust or relax, his rhythm immediately needful and unrelenting.

And this time you are not so surprised when he stops, allowing Lord Sanada to again use you. Between them they take turns with it, each thrusting into you until he brings himself nearly to climax and then stopping, pulling out and climbing off you, and then the other will start anew, and you cannot fathom what kind of self-control they must possess, because you have never known it was possible for men to last like this, but it seems they wish to prolong their pleasure for as extended a time as they can. Or perhaps they just want to torment you, because you are brought to a peak over and over again, until you are certain it will never stop, your body shaking and weakened by what feels like an onslaught, yet somehow you still want more, willing to take as much as they will deign to give you.

Lord Sanada finishes first, almost silently, closing his eyes, one long, exhaled breath that ends sharply, and with that he rolls off you, lying beside you, apparently sated. He watches as Lord Evil thrusts into you one last time with a low moan that seems to resound from deep in his chest, and then he, too, is satisfied.

But you can barely breathe, still trembling, your whole body pulsing in time with your racing heartbeat, your skin aflame like something raw.

"What do you think?" Lord Sanada says, seemingly perfectly calm.

"I think perhaps we should have her remain with us," says Lord Evil. "For a time, at least."

"Hmm," Lord Sanada hums, as if in agreement.

He covers you with one of the furs, and you pull it over yourself, curling up on your side, exhausted. They both stand, beginning to dress themselves.

"We must speak with our men," Lord Evil tells you, and when you gaze up at him, there is faintest trace of a smile on his lips, perhaps a hint of something resembling approval in his eyes. "Rest," he says, "and soon we will begin again."

And despite yourself, you feel a sharp stab of need at your core, the ache there only intensifying with a throb that hovers in some delightfully indistinct place between pleasure and hurt. Because you want this, it seems, you want to serve them and perhaps you cannot understand your own motivations, but then perhaps you do not wish to.

"Yes, my lords," you whisper, and close your eyes.

#ohnojustwrites #njpw imagine #sanada imagine #sanada #evil imagine #evil

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betweensceneswriter · 7 years

Text

Jimjeran-Chapter 15 : The Proposal

Claire is in trouble!

Click Here to Hop to the Table of Contents

Previously on Jimjeran: Chapter 14 : Consolation Come see the miracle!

I was surprised, but definitely relieved, to see that Jamie was in the back of the pickup truck that came to pick me up at noon. At least we would face the firing squad together.

“Are you really wearing that?” I asked Jamie, as he stood, took my duffle bag from me, then offered me a hand to help me up into the bed of the pick-up truck.

“Totally,” he said, looking down at the sarong. “It makes me feel good—ready to go to war.”

Jamie was joking, but I could sense that he was nervous. I was nervous, too. We hadn’t done anything, but I had jogged home in a tank top and shorts. Since I hadn’t seen many people, obviously Angus must have radioed Dougal. It wasn’t like we talked or made a lot of noise, but somehow he’d known we were together. I figured we were about to get a stern talking to, and I’d have yet another reason to have to stay away from Jamie. I didn’t want to, though.

Passengers on the Jolok boat sat on the wooden deck of the boat. It was a small boat, so it was tossed about by the waves. The thought of facing the fierce Scotsman made me nervous, but it was the rolling ocean that made Jamie sick to his stomach. I rubbed his back as he threw up over the side of the boat.

Meanwhile, I terrified myself by looking at the water that was almost black and pondering the fact that there was an entirely separate world under that surface. I was grateful when we saw the island of Majuro and landed on solid ground, though on the taxi ride to the Peace Corps headquarters, I still felt nauseated.

“D’ye understand why you are here?” Mr. MacKenzie lowered his eyebrows as he stared at the two of us, sitting next to each other in two chairs across the desk from him. Jamie was still a little green from the boat trip, and I was still reeling from Frank’s letter and the sudden fear that not only did I not have anyone to go back to, I could lose my position here as well.

He was glaring at me. “Sorry, what did you ask?” I felt scattered and embarrassed that I was starting the whole conversation out wrong.

“Why are you here?” His voice was gruff; his face angry.

“I’m pretty sure it’s because I spent the night at the boys’ house yesterday, after my fiancé broke up with me in a letter.”

“Ye spent the night at the boys’ house? On their couch?” Dougal asked, but it wasn’t for clarification; he knew full well what the answer was.

I exchanged glances with Jamie; he shook his head and looked at me like it was my question to answer. “Well, I slept in Jamie’s bed with him, but we didn’t like, sleep together, sleep together.”

“And how would anyone know that?” Mr. MacKenzie asked. “Angus and Rupert saw you coming out of Jamie’s room early in the morning, wearing some indecent version of nighttime attire, tousled hair, and sleepy eyes. Ye live a mile away, so every single family along that road had the opportunity to see the same thing as ye walked home.”

“Uncle,” Jamie said, but at Dougal’s glare he corrected himself, “I mean, Mr. MacKenzie. Claire’s fiancé broke up with her. She needed to not be alone. We dinna do anything sexual. I held her, that’s all.”

Dougal glared. “Ye see what a difficult position ye put me in, though, young lady. What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. MacKenzie,” I said. “I guess I wasn’t really thinking at all. Without a roommate or a female friend to talk to, without the ability to call my family, I needed someone last night. Jamie’s been very kind to me, and I trust him. I never feared for my honor, and I guess I didn’t think about other people’s perceptions if I were coming back from the guys’ house early in the morning.”

Dougal pulled out a sheaf of papers. “D’ye ken what these are?”

I looked across the table and read upside-down, “Peace Corps Volunteer Code of Conduct,” I said.

“Recognize your signatures?” he said, pushing two more sheets of paper across the table at us. We nodded, and I glanced over at Jamie. This sure felt like being sent to the principal’s office as teenagers. Next, Dougal handed us another piece of paper, with addendums and numbered policies, two of which were highlighted in yellow.

“Claire,” said Dougal, “Would ye read section 3.13 and 3.13.1, please?

I leaned forward and read the highlighted portions.

3.13 Sexual Behavior While the matter of Volunteer sexual behavior is a highly personal one, Volunteers are required to follow certain legal and policy requirements and failure to do so may be grounds for disciplinary action up to and including administrative separation.

3.13.1 Host Country Sexual Mores Because of the legal, social, and political implications of inappropriate behavior, it is important that Peace Corps standards be clear. To this end, Country Directors shall ensure that volunteers understand host country sexual mores, including in relation to dating, pre-marital experience, and single parent maternity and paternity, and the consequences for Volunteers and the Peace Corps program if these mores are violated. Post Guidance in this area should be provided in writing to Volunteers.

“Jamie,” Dougal said. “Ye’ve had the most experience in the Marshall Islands. How would you describe the mores of this country?”

“Honestly, Mr. MacKenzie, they allow their young people to have a kind of extended adolescence, and sometimes they assume that they will be sexually active when they are not yet married. Of course, the parents would rather they wait, just as in many other countries.”

“Is the same thing expected of Peace Corps volunteers, however?”

“You have made it clear, sir, that we should not enter into sexual relationships with locals. You hadn’t clarified the policy in regards to other volunteers. And…even if you had, we do not have a sexual relationship.”

“Now,” said Dougal, “It doesn’t spell it out in these particular guidelines, but the basic reason for being terminated from the Peace Corps, which is called ‘administrative separation,’ is if your behavior diminishes the effectiveness of you as volunteers or the Peace Corps program as a whole. I am leaning very heavily toward administrative separation for you, Miss Beauchamp.”

“How does what happened last night diminish my effectiveness?” I sputtered.

“Let me ask you, Miss Beauchamp. Who do you help the most?” Dougal’s eyes glinted fiercely.

“Probably the women and children.”

“How are the women going to act toward you if they think you’re a whore?”

I cringed at the word. “I’m not a whore, sir. I have only been with my fiancé for the last six years.”

Dougal ignored me. “But it they think ye are, are they going to bring their children to you? Are they going to trust you near their men? Are they going to feel safe asking you questions about their illnesses and ailments?”

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“There are reasons for our cultural sensitivity training. We have come into the Marshallese world. We don’t try to put our culture on them. We will educate and we will heal and we will support the physical and social health of their community. But early missionaries did a lot of damage here, unintentionally, of course. They didn’t like seeing women’s breasts, okay. But when the natives didn’t dry off as quickly after a rain storm because they were wearing cotton shirts that got soaked and stayed wet, they got boils and they got sick. Just by making islanders wear clothing, missionaries killed them.”

“But Mr. MacKenzie,” I said. “I’m a good nurse. I’m doing a good job. I’ve already developed relationships with people. What if this never happens again?”

“Word has already gotten out, Miss Beauchamp. They willna respect ye. And they will either not trust ye, or not come to use the clinic services.”

Jamie reached over underneath the desktop and grabbed my hand. I was beginning to shake with the stress. “Mr. MacKenzie, I did not do anything bad.” I couldn’t keep my chin from quivering. “Am I not allowed to be human, to need people? To make a mistake?”

Dougal ignored my question. “To be honest, Miss Beauchamp, it’s your reputation with the men that troubles us most. You’re already alone on Arno, which was certainly not the plan. But if they think you have loose morals, the night time visits are just going to increase. And my nephews are not out there to provide you with night watch service.”

“I’m gonna kill Angus,” Jamie muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

“And you, Jamie,” Mr. MacKenzie continued. “How can I punish her and not you? It will come across as nepotism, me treating my family with extra favor. I could relocate you, I guess. Or maybe it’s time for you to go back home.“

“Dougal,” Jamie said, slowly, in shock. “How could you do that?”

I stared at Jamie, seeing the deep pain in his blue eyes, feeling incredible guilt for putting him in jeopardy, of putting my position in jeopardy.

I couldn’t believe it when the words came out of my mouth: “What if we got married?”

Mr. MacKenzie and Jamie turned and stared at me.

I looked at Dougal. “What if we got married? While the Majol culture frowns on premarital relations, I read that they’re very forgiving if the couple gets married. Wouldn’t that fit within the guideline of the policy? They might not respect us if we were just messing around, but if we’re then married, they’d have nothing to object to. They’d just see us as horny fiancés who jumped the gun a little.”

“Ripālle, how can you propose such a thing?” Jamie half-laughed as he exclaimed in astonishment. I hadn’t looked at Jamie as I was talking, but now I could see his face was flushed and his lips were pale. “Seems like a rather permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

“I’d say it’s a rather final problem if you get sent home,” said Dougal. His face displayed interest instead of horror.

I turned back to look at the tall young man. “I care about you, Jamie,” I said earnestly. “And I don’t want you to lose all this because of me.”

Shakily, Jamie said, “Can I speak to ye alone, Claire?”

When we entered the other room, Jamie grabbed my hand and led me over to the couch where he sat and pulled me to sit down next to him, not releasing my hand. He looked down at our hands for a moment, and then he looked up at me.

“Are you serious, Claire?” Jamie’s blue eyes blazed with an unfamiliar intensity. He looked fragile, somehow, as if something barely below the surface was about to break.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“We joke a lot, Ripālle. I want to know if you’re serious. Do you really want to marry me?”

I smiled, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, “I would definitely marry you.”

He sighed. “You know that’s not what I’m asking, Claire…Do you want to marry me?”

I felt short of breath. He was making me spell it out, and the thought of rejection was terrifying.

Jamie continued. “When I get married, my plan is the ‘til death do us part’ kind of marriage. I dinna want a fake marriage. If we married each other, I would want to stay married, have children wi’ ye, get old wi’ ye. And bed ye. Frequently.” At those words, my uterus spasmed. “I already want to sleep wi’ ye,” he said intently, blushing as he looked down at his hands. “It would be torture if ye married me, but ye didna mean it; if ye didna want me that way.”

How could he not know? I thought. Isn’t it constantly written on my face?

I took a deep breath. “I do, Jamie.” My voice caught in my throat. “I want you, too,” I said, earnestly meeting his eyes. “I’ve missed you so much the last few days. You are the best friend I’ve had in a long time. I love talking with you, laughing with you. I trust you. I feel safe with you.”

Jamie released his tight grip on my hand, but covered it with his other hand, stroking me softly with his fingers as I continued.

“But hasn’t it been clear? I don’t think I’ve been able to hide how I feel. I want more. I want you. I want to be with you. I want your body, naked, next to me.”

I could see him jerk in visceral response to my words. He put his hand up to stop me. “Ah, Ripālle, unless ye want me to attack ye here and now, you should stop talking like that.” His face was flushed.

I didn’t obey him; I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I want your weight on me, I want you…in me.”

With a subtle shake of his head and widened eyes, Jamie’s face demonstrated exactly the effect I was having on him. But then he smiled.

“Can I ask ye, then, Claire?”

“Ask me what?”

“Will ye marry me, Claire Beauchamp?”

“Yes, I will, Jamie Fraser,” I said, standing and pulling him up to his feet. He gripped me by the waist, crushing me in an embrace, pressing his lips to mine. He tasted of salt, and I could feel hope and desire in his kiss.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” he said, pulling away from me for a moment. “You were with me, next to me, all night long, and ye never reached for me. I thought, maybe you dinna want me like that.”

I wrapped my arms around him, urging us together. My breasts were crushed beneath his chest. Our torsos were flush against each other. I’d said I wanted him; that was an understatement. I could feel his erection pressed against my pelvis. He wanted me, too, that was certain.

As if drawn by a magnetic force I lowered my hand and put it on him, feeling the size of him through the thin folds of his sarong. He groaned, kissed me harder, and skimmed his hand over my breast in my sundress; and then both of us froze.

“Dougal’s in the other room,” I said.

“Aye,” he said, pulling away from me and taking a deep breath. “I think we should wait until my Uncle’s no in the next room, and maybe until we’re married to consummate our marriage.”

“We’re already at second and sort-of-third base,” I joked. “It wouldn’t take long,” I felt myself being drawn back to him, and he could see it.

“No, Claire,” he said, shaking his head and laughing. “We canna.”

“Why?” I groaned. “We already got in trouble as if we had sex…”

“Ripālle,” he said, gently. “Would it be so bad for me to be a virgin when I marry? It’s a rarity in this world.”

I looked at him, and realized he was right. I had to close my eyes and breathe for a moment.

“You know the only thing helping you keep your virginity right now is the fact that Dougal is in the next room, don’t you?” I asked.

“Good thing he is, then,” Jamie said with a grin.

“You’re not any fun at all,” I sighed, finally accepting continued celibacy.

“No right now. But I will be,” he said, one side of his lips twisting up into a wry smile. “I promise.”

I believed him, and the thought send a warm flush through my body.

“Shall we tell Dougal, then?” I asked.

“I think we should, Ripālle,” Jamie said, nodding at me with a slightly shell- shocked expression.

I blew out my breath again. “Do I look okay?” I said. Jamie reached out and smoothed the hair that had been tousled in our enthusiastic embrace.

“How about me?” he asked. He needed a small amount of smoothing and straightening as well. He was about ready to leave the room when I pointed at the front of his sarong. “I think you need a minute.”

“It’s not going to help me to stay in this room wi’ ye,” he said, looking me up and down hungrily. “I think we might need to not even be alone wi’ each other until our wedding day.”

“Well, when will that be?” I asked.

“Tomorrow or the next day, if I have anything to say about it,” Jamie said. He stepped close to me, gently took my chin in his hand and kissed me.

On to Chapter 16 : Getting to Know You

Claire and Jamie need a little time to get to know each other better.

#GettingMarried!#alternate universe #jamie x claire #Marshallislands #Outlander fanfic #BetweenSceneswriter

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italian-shitstorm · 8 years

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Is it too much if I ask all the OC questions for Frank? Lmao

It is 3 in the morning, you are lucky I love you and love talking about my OCs haha also this one is super long so it’s definitely going under a read more. Sorry I couldn’t do that to the last one.

1. Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

He has an older brother but they do not get along at all. They honestly hate each other so. But he does have two younger cousins, Mariposa and Santiago, who both live in Spain and he talks to them a lot and they visit as often as they can. Also Cassandra isn’t really his sister but he likes to think of her as his younger sister and is very protective of her.

2. What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?

When he was younger he loved his mom a lot and wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. As he got older and his parents started leaving him alone with his brother fro longer amounts of time he began to slowly start disliking his mom. When they found out he was gay she kept blaming him and saying that he was sick and they could fix him. After that he just started hating his parents so much and wanting nothing to do with them.

3. What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

See above. He doesn’t get along with his dad either. It’s probably a lot worse. His dad was the one who mistreated him the most and was definitely the most abusive to Frank. When his dad found out he was gay he threatened to kick Frank out of the house if his relationship continued. When Frank’s grandmother (his dad’s mom) was in the hospital and really sick, Frank’s dad showed up unexpectedly and ended up getting in a fight with Frank. That got him kicked out of the hospital and he wasn’t allowed to come back and long story short Frank literally hates his dad so much.

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

Mmmmm boooyyy this poor boy has seen so much in his life it’s a miracle he’s even able to function. He’s been through so much with his family and all the shit his brother has dragged him into. But things are turning out great for him right now and his life is finally becoming more normal.

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

His cell phone, and an extra pen and maybe some crumpled papers if he’s at work. If it’s a normal day and he’s not at work it’s still his cell phone and his wallet. Also his keys if he hasn’t lost them yet.

6. Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

Dreams?? Food??? Ethan??? Idk man

7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

Being alone, people leaving, thunderstorms, police sirens and lots of gunshots

8. Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?

He has and he honestly does not like guns at all. It was probably some target his brother had set up when he was trying to teach him how to shoot.

9. Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

No, he’s still rich. Maybe when he was younger he wasn’t as worried about money or material things, but he definitely is now.

10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

Um? I’m really not sure what this means? Like I guess it depends on the day and his outfit?

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

When He ended up having to leave and he was worried that something would happen to Ethan and Tyler. He tried to break things off with Ethan and told Tyler he couldn’t be his friend anymore than just disappeared. Alex was holding both of them over his head and Frank was so scared what would happen to them if he didn’t comply. It was literally the hardest thing he’s ever had to do and he hated himself and his brother so much. It took a long time for him and Ethan to fix things and get back together and it took a long time for Tyler to forgive him.

12. In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

I can’t think of a specific time but when he bakes it calms him down. Frank is a stress baker and so he bakes to help himself relax and it usually works and chills him out enough for him not to be scared or anxious anymore.

13. Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

When he was younger he was but unfortunately now he’s a lot more desensitized.

14. Does your character remember names or faces easier?

Definitely faces. He sees a lot of people a day as a waiter, but he remembers a lot of faces.

15. Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

Yes, both, because he’s a greedy asshole who likes to show off

16. Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

Both??? maybe?? This is a bit hard. He wants to be happy more than anything, but he wants to fight that urge deep inside that keeps telling him he’ll always be a failure and never amount to anything.

17. What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

????? he probably had way too many

18. Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

Ambition

19. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Boy howdy. THis boy is an attention whore. It has definitely caused a lot of problems between him and Ethan and caused a lot of problems with himself. It’s also put a strain on his friendship with Tyler after he started dating Haven. It’s just because he was ignored by his parents so much and now he just constantly craves attention from his favorite people. And when they don’t give it to him he freaks he fuck out.

20. In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

It depends. Most of the time he’s comparing himself to others it’s to make himself feel better. He’s really bad about that and likes to think that he’s better than everyone else (even though deep down he really knows he’s not.)

21. If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

When he was younger he always used to blame himself. But now if something bad happens, it’s usually Alex’s someone else’s fault and he will definitely blame them.

22. What does your character like in other people?

He doesn’t like a lot of people tbh. He’s super suspicious of everyone and the only people he really likes are his friends, select family and probably the lady who cuts and styles his hair.

23. What does your character dislike in other people?

Everything. He hates everyone

24. How quick is your character to trust someone else?

He’s not. He doesn’t trust really anyone that he doesn’t know

25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

He starts off always suspecting everyone but if you get closer to him he might trust you a little more but that’s highly unlikely.

26. How does your character behave around children?

He doesn’t particularly hate kids, but he’s uncomfortable around them

27. How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

He will jump into a fight so fucking fast it’s ridiculous. He’s always DTF (down to fight)

28. How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

He will jump up in your face but when it comes to a fight but he doesn’t particularly like to resort to physical violence. He will never be the first to throw the punch if that’s really what this is asking. Because of his past he is very defensive and doesn’t like to physically fight or hit people.

29. What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

He wanted to be an astronaut tbh. He loved learning about space and was super into learning about the solar system. But as he got older he realized that it was just a kid’s dream and he would never become one. That and it took way too much school and he ended up hating school.

30. What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

Liars what a hypocrite. Drugs of all kind. Alcohol. Bugs. Also people that sit on kitchen counters. Don’t ever sit on the counter in his house or while he’s there.

31. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

Whenever he’s able to just relax with Ethan honestly. Although Ethan can get on his nerves sometimes, he’s really the only thing that can truly make Frank feel comfortable.

32. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.

Being around people he doesn’t like. When people yell at him or start arguments with him. When he gets caught in a lie. When he gets super anxious and unsure about what is going on.

33. In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

Very defensive. He hates being told he’s wrong.

34. Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?

It really depends on what it is. He doesn’t have a lot of patience tbh so he would probably give up super easily.

35. How does your character behave around people they like?

If he likes you he will joke around a lot and tease you, but he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s how he shows his affection. He will honestly let his walls down when he’s just with his friends. And maybe, once in a great while, someone will get him to smile.

36. How does your character behave around people they dislike?

If he doesn’t like you you better run

37. Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

Again, not really sure what this means???

38. Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?

depending on the situation, he removes himself hoping it will make the threat go away. Is he gets hurt, he could care less, but if it were Ethan, Ty, or Cass, he would definitely fight to keep them safe.

39. Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)?

I don’t know?? Never thought about this

40. How does your character treat people in service jobs?

He’s a server and his fiance works at an auto shop. He knows how stupid people can be and he knows how frustrating it is when you have to deal with them. He is always polite to service workers and tips very generously from the fact that he does the same exact thing.

41. Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

Honestly, he feels like he’s been through so much shit already in his life that he deserves everything he wants. His motto would literally be the Treat yo self line.

42. Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

Tyler’s mom and Ethan’s mom both acted as moms to him since his own was never there for him. Every year for mother’s day he buys them bouquets and makes them cakes.

43. Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?

Cass is very dependent on him and Ethan. Both boys treat her a lot like a younger sister and she lives with them after she had no where else to go.

44. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

Boy howdy he sure can say it without meaning it. But in all honesty it’s really hard for him to say it out loud. The only person he says it the most to is 1) his grandma and 2) Ethan. And even then he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t have to though because once you get to know Frank you realize that he says “I love you” through his actions and I think that means a lot more than him saying it.

45. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

He’s really not religious, but he is very scared of dying. Growing up, his Grandma would always tell him that he would go to heaven after he died. When his parents found out about his sexuality they said he was damned and would go to hell. He didn’t really believe them but he’s just scared because he doesn’t know what awaits him. And he’s really not eager to find out any time soon

#OC things #is it obvious that Frank is my favorite?#idk man #He's just the most like me #in a lot of aspects #and I love him so much #Plus he's one of my first OCs man #I gotta show him all the love

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ismael37olson · 6 years

Text

As Soft and as Pink as a Nursery -- 13 Really Sexist Musicals

In this moment in our cultural history, in which we're finally calling out expressions of sexism, racism, and other bias, it's worth looking closer at the shows we produce. Maybe the Era of Trump has made it necessary. A while back, I wrote a blog post about musicals that are much darker than most people think. Now we're having debates about problematic content in older musicals, and whether or not some older shows should be largely retired. Sometimes people tell me -- apologetically, but not really --that they don't really like "the new musicals." They like Rodgers & Hammerstein because they "just want escape." You know, like the "escape" of World War II in the Pacific, or the "escape" of watching the King of Siam lose his culture and then his life, or the "escape" of watching Jud Fry buy pornography from Ali Hakim, then try to murder Curly and Laurie, then die in a knife fight... Escape is awesome. Some people (usually white straight men) are enraged that anybody would suggest that Annie Get Your Gun should be retired for good. But it should. Times change. We are no longer the people, the culture, or the country we were in the early and mid 20th century. A great many of the shows written before 1960 (and some since then) are no longer relevant, and many of them are embarrassing or full-out offensive.

Here are some examples...

My Fair Lady -- This is a story about a narcissistic misogynist who keeps a young woman hostage in his home, using psychological torture, including sleep deprivation, to break her will and brainwash her, in order to make her socially acceptable and marriage-able to other men. Although, to be fair, the original poster laid out the show's sexism pretty clearly. At the end of the show, we debate whether the ambiguous ending means Eliza loves Henry or not. Let's hope not, for her sake! Why the fuck did she come back...? Sure, you could argue this is a near-masterpiece in many ways, and like some of Shakespeare's plays, it should be kept in the canon even though it's problematic. But you can't call Annie Get Your Gun anything remotely like a masterpiece. Annie Get Your Gun -- Like My Fair Lady, this show is about the subjugation of strong women by insecure men. Ultimately, Annie can only win Frank's heart by letting him win fraudulently, so his tiny male ego isn't hurt. WTF? And what's with that toxic song, "The Girl That I Marry"?

The girl that I marry will have to be As soft and as pink as a nursery. The girl I call my own Will wear satins and laces and smell of cologne. Her nails will be polished and, in her hair She'll wear a gardenia, and I'll be there; 'Stead of flittin', I'll be sittin' Next to her and she'll purr like a kitten. A doll I can carry, the girl that I marry must be.

Seriously, "a doll I can carry"...??? She is literally an object to him, a toy. This is twelve years after Reno Sweeney had told us that "times have changed." Carousel -- This is a show about a serial womanizer and abuser, and petty repeat offender, who dies in the commission of a violent crime and leaves behind a wife with PTSD and a fucked-up daughter who tries to find validation in the arms of other men. Of course, these days, this is most infamous for this exchange between Billy's widow Julie and her daughter Louise:

Louise: I didn't make it up, Mother! There was a strange man here and he hit me -- hard -- I heard the sound of it -- but it didn't hurt, Mother! It didn't hurt at all -- it was jest as if he -- kissed my hand! Julie: Go into the house child. Louise: But is it possible, Mother, fer someone to hit you hard like that -- real loud and hard -- and not hurt at all. Julie: It is possible, dear, fer someone to hit you -- hit you hard -- and not hurt at all.

Anybody want their daughter to see that scene...?

Kiss Me, Kate -- Another show about the subjugation of strong women by insecure men. This story is literally about the "taming" of a woman. Animals are tamed, not people. The only way to make it work is by subverting the text, by suggesting through the staging, line delivery, etc., that Kate is "in on the joke." But even if you change the ending that way, it doesn't erase the abuse he has subjected her to, throughout the rest of the show. She's going to be happy with this guy? No. Guys and Dolls -- Yet another show about the subjugation of strong women by insecure men. Adelaide is in a psychologically abusive relationship with Nathan. They've been engaged for fourteen years, in a time and place when women had to get married. There's no way he actually loves her. And Sky gives Sarah the 1950s equivalent of a date-rape drug. And notice in the song "Marry the Man Today," we discover Adelaide and Sarah don't really like a whole lot about their men. So why would they marry them? And Republicans want to return to the 1950s. No, No, Nanette -- Yet another show about the subjugation of strong women by insecure men. Surprisingly for 1925, one of the central plot lines is about how Nanette cannot enjoy independence without money, and all the money is controlled by men. It's an unusually honest and truthful comedy for 1925, though Nanette can't live Happily Ever After till she gets her man. Yawn. Camelot -- Not only is this another story of the subjugation of strong women by insecure men, but here, the woman's punishment is literally burning at the stake. She is to be killed for the crime of being sexually active and choosing for herself who she loves. The irony gets even uglier when you consider how much the serially adulterous JFK loved this show. And let's not forget that Guenevere is a truly fucked-up young woman who has been taught to be attracted to (and aroused by?) violence. The Sound of Music -- Here's one about a damaged young woman who falls for an angry, abusive, distant daddy figure, who has raised some monster children. Aw, isn't that sweet? What's that rule about workplace romances? Yeah, but the Alps are so pretty! Maria is never allowed to decide her own fate -- everybody tells us what to do, and then she does. And how about the treatment of the Baroness -- how did Georg's legitimate fiancee become the villain here...? It's not exactly the old "virgin vs. whore" scenario, but it's close...

Once Upon a Mattress -- This is a comedy entirely about how women have to be twice as good as men to get the same job. In the late 1950s! Tell Me on a Sunday (Act I of Song and Dance) -- This is a great show in a lot of ways, but it's about a woman who has learned to define herself only in terms of the men in her life. Yikes! We produced the show with New Line because as weak and fucked-up as this woman is, we did see a lot of truth in her, and ultimately, we think she will take control of her own life... Beauty and the Beast -- Sorry about this, Michelle, but this is a story about a young woman with Stockholm Syndrome, imprisoned by an insecure man... er, monster. It's creepy in a similar way to My Fair Lady. Why do we accept these stories? Why do women find them romantic? Miss Saigon -- Kim is a depressing, weak, Asian stereotype, who literally cannot talk about anything other than love, and who is helpless unless the White Savior can rescue her. But the White Savior has a White Wife, so the Asian woman is fucked. The Robber Bridegroom -- The story's hero Jamie Lockhart tells us repeatedly (most explicitly in the Act I finale) that he doesn't enjoy sex if it's consensual. Think about that. He only likes sex if it's rape.

I never was a courtin' kind of boy; Them flirtin' games ain't nothin' I enjoy. I hate a girl to give me goo-goo eyes; If she'd turn her back, I'd sneak attack, And get 'er by surprise! ‘Cause I like Love stolen from the cookie jar! I like love stolen on the sly! Oh yeah! I just love snitchin' what ain't meant for me; Oh the more forbid, The sweeter tastes the pie! A lot of girls are willin' to be had; The more I see, the more it makes me mad. You grab ‘em good; it doesn't faze 'em none. Well, that may be cool by the modern rule, But they're killin' all the fun!

You know, the "fun" of raping someone. How can anyone produce this show anymore? We did it in 2004, long before the #MeToo movement, and it was a difficult show even then -- which is the point. I'm told a recent local production essentially removed the rape from the story by making it all more playful and making Rosamund more obviously eager and compliant. That's fine I guess, but then it's a different show making a different point (if any) about different things. It's no longer about the intersection of violence and sex in American culture and in our American DNA. Yes, it's in our DNA. We can never forget that mid-century America was fine with Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, a freakish MGM romanticizing of abduction and rape; and also The Fantasticks, in which abduction and rape are ironic comic devices. So what do we do with this show? It's awfully hard to make a case right now for a comedy about rape. Women characters in many musicals are weak. That's partly because companies still produce a lot of really old musicals when our culture not only accepted that, but expected it. It's also because until the last decade or two, there were virtually no women writing musicals. And since lots of musicals center on a love story, it was almost always a love story from the male (fantasy?) point of view. When there were strong women characters, they were generally the secondary "comic" lead. Because after all, you can't take a strong woman seriously!

There were exceptions (almost always written by gay men) like Dolly Levi and Mame Dennis, but even they needed men before they could end their stories happily. Most disturbingly, since it opened in 1966, Mame is about a nonconformist who is repeatedly forced to conform. It's not an accident that a year later, the American theatre answered with Hair -- which admittedly, is awfully sexist in its own ways.

What's my point with all this? My point is not that we should abandon all the old shows. But I do believe we need to think more critically about work we're really familiar with. It took me a long time to realize what a dirtbag Harold Hill is, because I grew up watching him in one of my favorite movie musicals. It never occurred to me as a child to question any of it. And really, that's the genius of The Music Man, that Harold cons us (the audience) as successfully as he cons the River City-zians. We can be eassily seduced by our favorite musicals, by great songs, etc., and we have to be careful about that. In other words, just think about it. More than we have been. Long Live the Musical! Scott from The Bad Boy of Musical Theatre http://newlinetheatre.blogspot.com/2018/11/as-soft-and-as-pink-as-nursery-13.html

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