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malum-forev · 3 months ago

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Unexpected

“I can’t believe people actually fall for these kinds of things,” Bucky scoffs, flicking one of the drooping petals on the flower arrangement. “Ridiculous, right?”

He looks over at Sam, wanting some kind of backup from his partner, only to receive a shrug in response. Bucky rolls his eyes, having flowers delivered to the compound seemed so overplayed in his mind.

“No self respecting woman could actually want to date someone who outsources something like giving flowers.” Bucky mutters, his fingers itch to look at the card to see who they’re from. And more importantly, who they’re for.

“Can’t say I agree with you on this one Buck,” Sam leans back on the conference room chair, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. “Flower delivery is a normal thing in the modern world, not that I expected you to know. You’re not exactly the romantic type.”

He tries to not let Sam’s comment bug him, but it does. A lot. Back when he was alive the first time, Bucky was over the top. So over the top that some women’s knees physically buckled when they saw his gifts and acts of love. Sure, some of the things he only did to get into their pants but who cares, they were romantic nonetheless.

Bucky tries to concentrate on your detailed plan for the mission but he’s done this a thousand times and could quite possibly complete this recon mission in his sleep and more importantly, the flower debacle is still present. The plastic vase sitting in the middle of the conference table taunts him. The folded card underneath it was basically begging for him to take a look.

He lingers after the meeting, saying some excuse about wanting to look over the documents when really, his curiosity is what’s keeping him seated.

In his defense, your floor of the compound rarely gets any deliveries, let alone “romantic” ones. At least what people now think is romantic. Apart from Sam, himself and you, the other people on the floor are either married or forever alone. Leave the cheesy displays of affection for the lower level agents, the ones who still get the hots from one look.

Bucky looks both ways, making sure no one catches him as he slips the card from under the vase and reads it.

Thought of you today. Have a nice week.

“Nice week? What a loser.” Bucky blows raspberries, throwing the card back on the table.

“Can I help you with something, Barnes?” Bucky jumps up in his spot as he hears your voice coming from behind him.

“Just reading this extensive report,” Bucky lifts up the corners of the papers. “Great to know you have so much spare time.”

To say you and Bucky have a complicated relationship is an understatement. You think he’s a reckless agent that gets away with everything just because he was Captain America’s friend and he thinks that you aren’t reliable on the field because you second guess everything. Match made in heaven, right? Not a single mission you’ve been on has resulted in the two of you being civil. It always ends with a catfight and both of you trying to one up the other one.

“I don’t have time for this. Right now all I want is to go home and get some rest before we have to leave in a couple of days.” You roll your eyes, picking up some of the extra copies for the other agents you’re taking on the mission before grabbing the flowers from the table.

“Are those yours?” Bucky’s voice pitches up, like he can’t seriously believe someone sent you flowers.

“This is exactly what I don’t have time for.” You huff, leaving him behind in the conference room, wishing he’d just drop it. But knowing Barnes, and hearing his combat boots smack on the floor behind you, he won’t stop.

“Who is he?” He raises his eyebrows, walking next to you, covering the elevator buttons with his hands so you can’t press either button.

“Barnes,” You warn. “I’d rather not spend any more time with you than what’s required for my job.”

“Me neither,” Bucky nods. “So, if you can just tell me who sent you the flowers we can go on our way and not talk until we absolutely have to.”

“Does it matter who they’re from?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Of course it matters, I’ve never known you to like someone enough to give them your work address. I’ve never known you to like someone, period. So, yes, it matters.”

“Why would I tell you?” You quickly press the arrow pointing upwards as Bucky gets distracted with his dig at your non-existent love life. “So you can go and tell him what a big mistake he’s making?”

“That, and maybe I just want to know if he’s a real life breathing man.” He shrugs as you get in the elevator. “With eyes and ears and all those things one would need to know you really.”

“Great, thanks for the motivational talk I so didn’t need.” You flip him off as the doors close.

-o-

Your head bounces against the side of the plane as you go through some turbulence but you try not to let it disturb you. But it’s something else that wakes you up, or rather, someone else.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that he works somewhere in the compound.” Bucky drops his body in the seat next to you, his loud voice making your eyes snap open.

“I’m resting before the mission,” You narrow your eyes at him. “And having you talk to me is messing that up.”

“You’re not disagreeing.” Bucky hums.

“The only reason I haven’t flipped you over and dislocated your shoulder is because you have somehow gotten on Sam’s good side and I don’t want him giving me his disapproving father look.”

“Just tell me.” Bucky’s crystal blue eyes are looking straight into yours.

“Tell you what?” You throw your head back with a groan.

“Who the flowers are from.”

“You’re still on that?” You quirk one eyebrow.

“You never answered it.”

The questions seemed to have died down once you closed your eyes again but Bucky popped up whenever you expected him least.

You rummage through the office of the suspect that had just been killed. A doctor that was once Hydra had been trying to replicate the super soldier serum, the animal testing had been positive and a couple of dog sized rats still lived in his office.

“Can you tell me what area he’s in?” Bucky leans on the doorframe and the sudden sound has you bringing your gun to his forehead.

“I could have killed you just now,” You heave. “And I wish I would have, I think death is the only thing that’s going to stop you from asking all these questions.”

“You could just answer.” Bucky shrugs, looking both ways, making sure no one’s around.

“Why do you want to know?” You huff.

“I want to know who’s romancing you.” Bucky acts like he doesn’t care, but the truth is that he’s spent the last few days with you and only you on his mind.

The thought of you dating someone that does the bare minimum makes him frown. He’s never given a second thought to your dating life but if he had to rack his brain, Bucky would assume that you would date someone who’s competent enough to handle your wit and your moods, someone who gets your strength and doesn’t try to undermine you, someone who can handle the emotional baggage that comes with this job and doesn’t judge you. Someone who will hand deliver flowers to your apartment to show you he likes you, instead of having them delivered so that everyone thinks he likes you.

“Why do you care about my love life all of a sudden?” You snap at him and it actually stops him in his tracks.

Bucky stares back at you with half a breath sucking in his lungs.

Love.

You actually said the word love.

Nothing’s ever happened between you two (except for that night the two of you spent cuddling together after neither of you wanted to sleep on the floor, but you swore you’d never speak of it again), but you’ve been a constant in Bucky’s life for years. And he doesn’t deal with change very easily.

If you’re so freely talking about having a love life, as opposed to what? a like life? Get yourself together Barnes! he scolds himself, that means that soon enough you’ll be bringing this mediocre boyfriend around the tower, which means he’ll have to practice his “I’m trying to act like I care what you’re telling me” smile in the mirror while he’s bumped into the guy while you’re still getting ready because lord knows you love to take your sweet time getting ready! And that means that he’ll have to get a tux for your wedding because who would be stupid enough to not marry someone as intelligent and beautiful as you, and that means that you’ll take a leave for your honeymoon but knowing you, work will follow you to said honeymoon. You never stop working and Bucky’s warned you about your body taking a toll after all those years.

“You’re one to talk.” He remembers you rolling your eyes at him the time he said it.

God, your eyes. He’s going to miss your eyes. In the morning, you’ll look at him from over your boiling hot coffee cup. Bucky knows that you like to drink your coffee before the sun goes up because, in your words, I want to have at least a couple of minutes to myself before the world needs me. He’d never admit it to anyone but he sometimes acts like he’s had nightmares keeping him up at night just so he can share those quiet moments with you.

And after the tsunami of memories he won’t share with you anymore subsides, another wave comes crashing in. Soon you’ll be retiring, Bucky’s seen you with Morgan. It’s clear you want kids of your own some day. And you sure as hell won’t be having them when someone like Bucky Barnes is your partner. Bucky knows he’s a risk, he wouldn’t judge you if you thought it too.

“Okay, we’re done here. I’m leaving, White Wolf hot on my heels.” You speak into the chip, making him snap out of his thoughts and return to Earth.

“As always, thanks for doing nothing, Barnes.” You laugh, slapping Bucky's shoulders as you pass him.

Bucky’s lungs burn as he runs alongside you down the corridor, trying to make up for all of the air he didn’t get as he spiraled.

-o-

Bucky is up and it’s not because he heard the door hinges creak as you came inside or the slapping of your heels on the old wooden floor. It’s because he hasn’t been able to sleep since you left.

He acted tired and fake yawned all the way to his room as you passed by, all maked-up and perfumed, when in reality he spent the rest of the night trying to decipher a video game someone recommended.

Bucky’s verdict: I’ve been to war, I don’t need to play make believe.

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the sounds coming from the kitchen. You opened the fridge door and took a glass bottle of sorts out. From the cork popping, he figured out you were taking out your favorite wine.

Bucky walks quietly towards the kitchen, not wanting to startle you.

You gasp as you turn around, cork in your mouth and wine glass filled to the brim in your left hand.

“I thought everyone would be asleep by now.” You spit the cork into the trash, lowering your face so your hair fans over your features.

“Nightmares,” Bucky mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing at your unusual mannerisms.

“Well, now you know who was out here.” You walk past him. “Goodnight Barnes.”

But before you can leave, Bucky holds your arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You try to release from his grip but you know you’re no match for the vibranium arm.

Bucky lifts up a trembling hand to your face and moves away your hair. Your normally bright eyes now look dull. Red blotching around your irises and black ink running down your face.

“You’ve been crying.” Bucky’s jaw tightens.

“Thanks for that, Sergeant Obvious,” You scoff. “You’ve discovered my secret. I’m a living, breathing woman with feelings. I know they make you uncomfortable because you don’t have any but I do.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I’m a person and as much as I would like to be as robotic as you are, sometimes people do things that hurt me.” You roll your eyes. “Next time I have feelings, I’ll make sure to take care of them before I enter the tower so you won’t be bothered.”

“Why are you crying?” He hisses, shutting his eyes before he sees red. “Who made you cry? Tell me a name and I’ll have them killed before dawn.”

“What?”

“No one makes my girl cry.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to understand what Bucky just said. The man who’s constantly bothering you and making your life quite impossible is threatening to kill someone just because you shed a couple of tears?

Bucky runs his hands down his face. “We’re wasting precious time here baby, just give me a name and I’ll do the rest.”

“You don’t care,” You tell him but his expression doesn’t change. “You’re not supposed to care. Why do you?”

“The other day, when you told me about the flower idiot, I may have realized something.” Bucky lets out a deep breath. “You’re my partner on the field but you’re much more than that in here.”

Your hand shakes as Bucky takes it and presses your palm flat on his chest.

“I’m thinking of you when I wake up, hoping I catch you before you get ready. You’re on my mind when we’re training because I want to teach you everything I know, and I want you to teach me how you twisted the agent’s arm and dislocated his knee at the same time. Most of the times when we’re out on missions I’m reckless because I want to keep you safe. I don’t care what happens to me, you’re what needs to be taken care of. At night I dream of you, and then I wake up feeling hollow.”

“You’re too good for me and I know that but that doesn’t mean that some jackass can take you out and then make you cry. If that’s the standard then I’m way above average, baby.” Bucky lets out a dry chuckle. “And I know you don't want me because, who would? But-”

You slam your lips on his, stopping him completely.

Both of you are starved for touch, wanting to explore every inch of the other. His hands roam your body as yours get tangled in his hair.

Heavy breathing takes over the kitchen as you separate.

“Why did it take you so long to tell me?” You rest your forehead on his.

“Why did it take you so long to kiss me?”

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour@hallecarey1@aorifukuzawa@sammyssm@alana4610. @mrsjobarnes@vicmc624@unkasworld@theroyalmanatee@almosttoopizza@cjand10@cremebruleequeen@buggy14@jasminocano.@isabel-ffl-xoxo@wintrsoldrluvr@kandis-mom@12345sebby@tittittoee @unaxv. @teambarnes72@angelicrexi@she-wolf09231982@wilsons-striped-ties@tmb510@capswife@pono-pura-vida@touchstarvedforbuckybarnes@tatianah26@drewsuncrustable@minmiin1d

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tanadrin · 1 year ago

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There is an obvious objection to evolutionary models which assume that our strongest social ties are based on close biological kinship: many humans just don’t like their families very much. And this appears to be just as true of present- day hunter-gatherers as anybody else. Many seem to find the prospect of living their entire lives surrounded by close relatives so unpleasant that they will travel very long distances just to get away from them. New work on the demography of modern hunter-gatherers — drawing statistical comparisons from a global sample of cases, ranging from the Hadza in Tanzania to the Australian Martu? — shows that residential groups turn out not to be made up of biological kin at all; and the burgeoning field of human genomics is beginning to suggest a similar picture for ancient hunter-gatherers as well, all the way back to the Pleistocene. While modern Martu, for instance, might speak of themselves as if they were all descended from some common totemic ancestor, it turns out that primary biological kin actually make up less than 10 per cent of the total membership of any given residential group. Most participants are drawn from a much wider pool who do not share close genetic relationships, whose origins are scattered over very large territories, and who may not even have grown up speaking the same languages. Anyone recognized to be Martu is a potential member of any Martu band, and the same turns out to be true of the Hadza, BaYaka, !Kung San, and so on. The truly adventurous, meanwhile, can often contrive to abandon their own larger group entirely. This is all the more surprising in places like Australia, where there tend to be very elaborate kinship systems in which almost all social arrangements are ostensibly organized around genealogical descent from totemic ancestors. It would seem, then, that kinship in such cases is really a kind of metaphor for social attachments, in much the same way we’d say ‘all men are brothers’ when trying to express internationalism (even if we can’t stand our actual brother and haven’t spoken to him for years). What’s more, the shared metaphor often extended over very long distances, as we’ve seen with the way that Turtle or Bear clans once existed across North America, or moiety systems across Australia. This made it a relatively simple matter for anyone disenchanted with their immediate biological kin to travel very long distances and still find a welcome.

love the idea that humans avoiding their annoying family by moving hundreds of miles away is part of our ancient evolutionary inheritance

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batboyblog · 1 month ago

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Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #36

September 27-October 4 2024

President Biden and Vice-President Harris have lead the federal response to Hurricane Helene. President Biden's leadership earned praise from the Republican Governors of South Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, and Georgia, as well as the Democratic Governor of North Carolina and local leaders. Thousands of federal workers are on the ground in effected communities having given out to date over 8 million meals, over 7 million letters of water. Both President Biden and Vice-President Harris have been on the ground in resent days meeting with effected families. During her trip to Georgia Vice-President Harris announced that the federal government will reimburse state and local government 100% of the costs from Hurricane Helene.

A strike by the International Longshoremen’s Association that briefly shut down ports on the East Cost and Gulf ended in a tentative deal. Both sides thanked Acting Secretary of Labor Julie Su and Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg for helping push the deal through. President Biden and Vice-President Harris had expressed solidarity with the works when the strike was announced and President Biden directed Secretary Buttigieg to take the lead in pressuring management to make a deal with the Longshoremen. The ILA got a 62% raise as part of the agreement.

Vice President Harris announced new actions to help those struggling with medical debt. This actions include new standards from the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau on debt collection. the CFPB plans on requiring debt collectors to confirm debts are valid and accurate before engaging in collection actions. As well as cracking down on debt collectors that collect on debt that is not owed by patients. Other actions included an announcement by the DoD that it was reducing pricing for civilians who get medical treatment at DoD hospitals and a track down on tax-exempt hospitals who are required by law to offer financial assistance but often do not. These steps come after Vice President Harris in June announced plans to remove medical debt from credit scores. Following the Vice President's call to action North Carolina moved forward a plan to eliminate medical debt for 2 million people in the state. President Biden's American Rescue Plan funds have been used by state and local Democrats to eliminate $7 billion dollars in medical debt.

The Department of Transportation announced $62 Billion in infrastructure funding for 2025. Thanks to the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law passed by President Biden this will be $18 billion dollars more than was spent in 2021. The Biden-Harris Admin has helped support over 60,000 infrastructure projects across all 50 states, rebuilding roads and bridges, breaking ground on America's first high speed rail, updating ports and airports, and breaking high speed internet to rural communities.

The Department of Transportation announced $1 Billion dollars of investment in America's passenger rail future. This comes on top of $8.2 billion in investments announced in December 2023. The funds will help expand and modernize intercity passenger rail nationwide.

The Departments of Energy and Agriculture announced a $2.8 billion joint project to bring 100% carbon pollution-free energy to the rural midwest. The DoE is investing $1.5 billion into helping bring the Palisades Nuclear Plant in Michigan back on-line. Shut down in 2022 plans to refit and reopen it to allow the plant to keep generating clean energy till 2051. Once back online the Palisades Nuclear Plant will help stop an anticipated 4.47 million metric tons of greenhouse gas emissions a year, or 111 million metric tons of greenhouse gas emissions over its lifetime. The USDA is investing $1.3 billion in two rural electric cooperatives, Wolverine Power Cooperative and Hoosier Energy, which cover rural communities in Michigan, Illinois, and Indiana. This investment will help Wolverine and Hoosier connect to the Palisades Plant, reduce prices for customers, and reduce climate pollution, putting Wolverine Power on the path to be 100 percent carbon-free energy before 2030.

The Treasury and the IRS announced that 30 million Americans, across 24 states will qualify for free direct filing of their taxes in 2025. The IRS says that the average American spends $270 dollars and 13 hours filing their taxes. Thanks to the Inflation Reduction Act, passed by President Biden with Vice President Harris' tie breaking vote, Americans will be able to file their taxes quickly and for free directly with the IRS. Tax payers in Alaska, Arizona, California, Connecticut, Florida, Idaho, Kansas, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Washington, Wisconsin, and Wyoming will in 2025 be able to use direct file.

The USDA announced $7.7 billion in funding for Climate-Smart Practices on Agricultural Lands. This represents the single biggest investment in these programs in USDA history. Since implementation began in 2023 this conservation assistance has helped over 28,500 farmers and ranchers apply conservation to 361 million acres of land.

The Department of Energy announced $1.5 billion in investments in transmission infrastructure to help ensure our grid is reliable and resilient. This will help support nearly 1,000 miles of new transmission lines across Louisiana, Maine, Mississippi, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Texas. These lines will bring 7,100 MW of new capacity and create 9,000 good paying union jobs. Studies find to keep up with growth and meet our climate goals of carbon free energy the US will need to triple the 2020 transmission capacity by 2050. This is an important step to meeting that goal.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #kamala harris #Politics #US politics #American Politics #climate change #climate action #carolina hurricanes #unions #longshoremen #rail #taxes

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yeoldenews · 9 months ago

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While we’re on the subject of names, is there an explanation for how traditional nicknames came about that are seemingly unrelated to, or have little in common with, the original name?

ie- John/Jack, Richard/Dick, Henry/Harry/Hank, Charles/Chuck, Margaret/Peggy/Daisy, Sarah/Sally, Mary/Molly, Anne/Nan, etc

I am actually over a week into researching a huge follow-up post (probably more than one if I’m being honest) about the history of nickname usage, so I will be going into this in much, much more detail at a hopefully not-so-later date - if I have not lost my mind. (Two days ago I spent three hours chasing down a source lead that turned out to be a typographical error from 1727 that was then quoted in source after source for the next 150 years.)

As a preview though, here’s some info about the names you mentioned:

The origins of a good portion of common English nicknames come down to the simple fact that people really, really like rhyming things. Will 🠞Bill, Rob🠞Bob, Rick🠞Dick, Meg🠞Peg.

It may seem like a weird reason, but how many of you have known an Anna/Hannah-Banana? I exclusively refer to my Mom’s cat as Toes even though her name is Moe (Moesie-Toesies 🠞 Toesies 🠞 Toes).

Jack likely evolved from the use of the Middle English diminutive suffix “-chen” - pronounced (and often spelled) “-kyn” or “kin”. The use of -chen as a diminutive suffix still endures in modern German - as in “liebchen” = sweetheart (lieb “love” + -chen).

John (Jan) 🠞 Jankin 🠞 Jackin 🠞 Jack.

Hank was also originally a nickname for John from the same source. I and J were not distinct letters in English until the 17th Century. “Iankin” would have been nearly indistinguishable in pronunciation from “Hankin” due to H-dropping. It’s believed to have switched over to being a nickname for Henry in early Colonial America due to the English being exposed to the Dutch nickname for Henrik - “Henk”.

Harry is thought to be a remnant of how Henry was pronounced up until the early modern era. The name was introduced to England during the Norman conquest as the French Henri (On-REE). The already muted nasal n was dropped in the English pronunciation. With a lack of standardized spelling, the two names were used interchangeably in records throughout the middle ages. So all the early English King Henrys would have written their name Henry and pronounced it Harry.

Sally and Molly likely developed simply because little kids can’t say R’s or L’s. Mary 🠞 Mawy 🠞 Molly. Sary 🠞 Sawy 🠞 Sally.

Daisy became a nickname for Margaret because in French garden daisies are called marguerites.

Nan for Anne is an example of a very cool linguistic process called rebracketing, where two words that are often said/written together transfer letters/morphemes over time. The English use of “an” instead of “a” before words beginning with vowels is a common cause of rebracketing. For example: the Middle English “an eute” became “a newt”, and “a napron” became “an apron”. In the case of nicknames the use of the archaic possessive “mine” is often the culprit. “Mine Anne” over time became “My Nan” as “mine” fell out of use. Ned and Nell have the same origin.

Oddly enough the word “nickname” is itself a result of rebracketing, from the Middle English “an eke (meaning additional) name”.

I realized earlier this week that my cat (Toe’s sister) also has a rebracketing nickname. Her name is Mina, but I call her Nom Nom - formed by me being very annoying and saying her name a bunch of time in a row - miNAMiNAMiNAM.

Chuck is a very modern (20th century) nickname which I’ll have to get back to you on as I started my research in the 16th century and am only up to the 1810s so far lol.

#names #nicknames #onomastics #history #asks #nicknames are really hard to research you guys #there is so much info out there and it's almost all nonsense #and I'm talking academic books with listed sources not buzzfeed listicles #some guy in the 18th century forgetting to mention Bill on a list of common nicknames does not mean it wasn't in use at the time ma dude #i've had to get very creative with sources #god bless word for word murder trial testimony

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alienpimps · 2 years ago

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like im sorry but it is extremely common to mix up words or blend two words together esp if you're autistic or have adhd, but people act like you're committing a moral failing when your brain chooses the wrong word and you can't stop it before you've already said it. but that's not a moral failing. that's just a brain glitch, and treating it as if it's anything more is actively harmful and ableist to whoever brain glitched, even if they are neurotypical.

it is literally just how our brains work. stop looking for problems where there are none.

#i have literally said the N word before because i mixed up two other words (which i do often)#and thankfully i was amongst friends who know that i 1. am not racist and 2. dont use that word *ever*#but i'd have been cancelled a million times over if i had been streaming #people are so hellbent on proving bad intent just to feel good about themselves and it's tiresome #“well why is it in your vocabulary to begin with” because i live in fucking modern day america you dumb bitch lmao #mfs be acting like i cant know what the word means #and as if i meant that word and not the two words i was trying to say #which im pretty sure were noggin (as in your head) and bigger #the only acceptable response is to either laugh at the brain glitch or gloss over it and continue the convo

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venus-haze · 13 days ago

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Sick as a Dog (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Day 25 - Underwear stealing/sniffing. Soldier Boy is America's first superhero. The greatest man who ever lived. Larger than life itself. A sleazy chauvinist who's getting off on your panties in a motel bathroom. [AO3 link]

Note: Written for @cozycornerevents Kinktober! Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I think this is my first Soldier Boy fic set in modern day…anyway it was fun writing mean and gross Soldier Boy🤭

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Soldier Boy-typical misogyny. Sexually explicit content involving masturbation, panty stealing/sniffing, degradation, voyeurism.

You couldn’t relax around Soldier Boy, not when Butcher and Hughie left you alone with him in that damn motel room. It was almost impossible to focus on the TV with him so blatantly eyeing you like a piece of meat. Tried to do the arm-over-the-shoulder move so he could grope your breast, and called you a prude under his breath when you scooted further down the couch.

Sure, he was attractive, but you weren’t about to mix business with pleasure—especially not with a guy who, when introduced to you, asked Butcher if they only kept you around as “stress relief,” as if you weren’t even standing in front of him. Maybe you should have gone with MM and Annie after all.

“I gotta use the can,” he grumbled, scratching his crotch before standing up from the couch.

The tension slowly released from your body the further away he got from you. Picking up your phone from the coffee table, you saw a missed text from Hughie: Sorry to leave you on supe-sitting duty. Everything good?

You sighed, your thumbs hovering over the keys before sending back: Yeah. Nothing I can’t handle.

Threw in an emoji at the end so he wouldn’t feel too bad. It was kind of your own fault, anyway. You decided to go along with Butcher and Hughie because part of you still naively believed in Soldier Boy’s heroism, his authenticity. And then you actually met him. Heard the shockingly crass way he talked, a relic of a time you had no interest in reliving.

You were just about to text Annie when you heard it.

A name. Your name. Low and gruff and mean coming from his mouth.

Putting your phone down, you glanced in the direction of the bathroom.

You knew your best option was to just ignore it when you heard him say your name again—turn up the volume on the TV and ignore the way heat flared up between your legs at the grunts he didn’t even try to keep down. Instead, you stood up, your heart beating faster with each step you took. The motel room wasn’t all that big, didn’t take very long at all to get to the bathroom door, look in where he’d left it open a crack.

Had he been careless? Or did he want you to watch?

You gaped openly at him, pumping his hard cock with a pair of your used panties bunched up in his hand, sliding it up and down his length. Black, satin with a little bow, it was one of your favorite pairs you brought with you, too, and you weren’t sure how to feel about him having chosen that one to get off with, to ruin. You looked back at your duffel bag, wide open and clearly rifled through. Supposed you were trying too hard not to pay attention to him to pay any mind to his violating your privacy.

“That’s right, take it, you fucking slut,” he growled. “You might not be their stress relief, but you’re gonna be mine.”

How the hell was this the same guy whose PSAs you watched throughout your school years, telling you to pledge allegiance to the flag and say no to drugs? He was sick, hypocritical, a symbol of the worst of American debauchery. Every subsequent word that came out of his mouth was vile, objectifying—should’ve repulsed you instead of going straight to your pussy. Your brain was screaming at you to go back to the couch and pretend you didn’t see anything, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

“I’ll make sure you can’t fucking walk tomorrow, have to carry you over my shoulder and tell everyone what a slut you are for my cock.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He squeezed his cock harder, his pumps more punishing, frustration radiating off of him as his precum soaked through your ruined panties. Could you even bear to wear them again, knowing all the things he said and did with them bunched up in his hand, picturing you in their place, bent over the motel room sink, or anywhere else he could think of in that deviant mind of his.

“How bad do you want it? C’mon, I wanna hear you beg.”

“Please,” you whispered despite yourself.

“I know you’re out there,” he taunted, startling you. “I can hear you panting like a bitch in heat. Why don’t you come in and give me a hand?”

With a gasp, you found your legs again and ran back to the living area. Fell over yourself to get onto the couch and make the TV louder, anything to drown out the sound of his groans, your name mixed with curses as he came just a few feet away.

Your face was on fire, and you sat with your hands folded between your legs, trying desperately to ignore the want that had overtaken you while watching him. You were better than that, better than debasing yourself for someone like him. Still, a shiver ran down your spine when you heard a gruff, drawn out “Fuck” over the sound of the stupid Vought A Burger commercial that was on.

The sink ran. Toilet flushed. Your head was pounding when he walked out of the bathroom and back to the couch.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, throwing your panties at you.

The balled up garment landed on your lap, wet and heavy with his cum. With a reluctant, trembling hand, you pushed it onto the floor.

Your voice cracked as you half-heartedly told him, “You’re disgusting.”

He scoffed, his arm draped across the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder. “You should take it as a compliment. There’s plenty of other broads I could’ve jacked off to—Hayworth, Bardot, Fawcett—”

“But none of them had their panties lying around here, did they?”

“No, they didn’t.” He was silent for a moment before breaking into a grin. “I’m gonna get you to fold sooner or later. Then, I’m really gonna make you beg for it.”

“Don’t bet on it,” you mumbled.

#soldier boy x reader #the boys x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy smut #cozy corner kinktober 2024 #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #battie kinktober 2024

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jetblack4realz · 27 days ago

Text

the sweetest of loves - jacaerys velaryon x reader

i'm living for fluffy modern jace rn honestly you're gonna love me for this

low key same au as my last one, just a few years later - more will come of this as well, i'm loving it haha

word count: 5.2k

______________________________________________________________

when you talked with jace about transferring to the essos school of literature instead of attending king's landing university with him again he was entirely supportive.

"you have to do it," he insisted, glancing between you and the 'accept' button at the bottom of the email. his smile was wide as he nodded at you, hand covering yours on the table. "you have to. you've been dreaming about going here for years."

"but, i already have a life here, jace, with you," you objected, brows furrowed as you leaned back in your chair. "i have friends and i like what i'm studying. i've only got two years left."

"it's just a study abroad year," he told you with a light smile. "you'll still graduate from KLU, you'll just have all this new experience to go along with it. it'll be okay."

"are you sure?" you asked.

"positive. you'll never forgive yourself if you don't go," he said, squeezing your hand comfortingly. "i think you should go."

and so you'd clicked that 'accept' button and shipped off to northern italy a month later.

you sent pictures of everything when you arrived, and a video of you and your roommate lisy who was studying in america at nyu originally. she was the most bubbly person you'd ever met and you loved her instantly.

jace responded in kind with his own pictures; the boys on the football pitch, 0.5's of cregan and aegon and benji, pouting selfies of him in the kitchen pointing at a burnt plate of who know's what? you got a voice memo each morning of him mumbling "i love you, have a great day," which you answered with a wide smile.

lisy teased you relentlessly, wondering after each picture, "is that going to the boy?" which you always had to reply honestly and say it was. she met him over facetime several times and he told you he was glad that you had her in italy, even though he wished he was there instead.

"she seems excitable," he laughed once she left your bedroom. you giggled, falling on your bed with the phone to your face.

"the most excitable," you told him. "i love her. she's made the transition a lot easier. but, i still miss you like hell."

"i miss you too," he hummed with a half smile. "even cregan misses you. we don't eat nearly as well with you gone."

"well be sure to stock up before i come home and i'll make you something," you told him, smiling at the compliment of your cooking.

"deal," he said with a grin. the screen shook as he moved on his bed, a yawn escaping his lips.

"when do you have class tomorrow?" you asked.

"eight," he sighed.

you gasped. "jace! you need to go to bed, it's like one in the morning."

"i'm fine, love. i'd rather talk to you," he said, but the daze in his eyes as he resisted another yawn said something else.

"go to bed, jacaerys," you told him sternly, smiling at the boy.

"it's like two in the morning over there, why aren't you going to bed?" he asked lazily.

"me and lisy are going sightseeing tomorrow and we don't have a wake up time," you said, a smirk on your lips as his eyes widened. he groaned dramatically.

"that's so not fair. i have to go to class and you're touring italy," he whined.

"should've come with me," you hummed.

"we both know i never would've gotten in. i'm terrible in english, i'll stick to history," he answered.

"then go to bed," you said, a smile still on your lips as he sighed heavily.

"fine," he droned. he looked more intently at the screen to you, smiling softly. "i love you."

"i love you too, j," you said, reciprocating his sweet smile. "sweet dreams, love."

"you too. goodnight."

"goodnight."

"i've never seen a place like this before," lisy gasped, looking all around the sweet little market you'd found yourself in. you giggled, beginning to file through a few of the notecards sitting on an antique table.

"jace's mom used to take me places like this all the time," you told her. "she doesn't have a daughter and is a serious shopaholic, so i got dragged to all sorts of places."

"ugh, i would've loved that!" she said.

"i did," you answered, following her to the home decor section. "i reckon as soon as i go home for the holidays she'll have all sorts of markets and boutiques for us to go to. are you going home? maybe you could come with!"

"i can afford the fare to america to just spend a week home," she answered. "but, i guess england's only a few hours from here, huh?"

"you should come! if we buy the tickets now they'll be cheap," you said eagerly. "i have an apartment back home that i'm sharing with my two best friends, though one of them moved into my room. you could stay with us! you'd love them, we'd have loads of fun."

"okay," she agreed with a smile. "it's a plan. now, can we please buy these pillows?"

she held up two blue and cream pillows with little floral designs on them. you reached for the tag hanging off one corner and flipped it over, gasping when you spotted the number printed on it.

"forty euros!"

"that's not that bad," she said, waving you away.

"each!" you reemphasized, but she shrugged, carrying them with her as she continued to the baking section.

"worth it!" she called over her shoulder, earning a laugh from you as you followed her.

you had jace on speaker as you worked your way around the kitchen.

"i mean, if he'd just get a grip he'd realize that she likes him too," you said louder than normal for it to reach the phone. you heard jace sigh dramatically as you began mixing the cream cheese icing you were going to put on the cinnamon rolls as soon as they came out of the oven.

"that's what i've been saying!" he said. "but luke is so stuck in his own head. i mean, he's a weird bloke, sure, but she's into that apparently."

"luke is a cute kid, don't say that," you told him.

"well, he does look like me, he is my brother."

"oh, shut up jace," you laughed.

"oh, you're talking to jace?" lisy asked as she entered the kitchen, sticking a finger into your icing to lick off as she turned back to where your phone was charging. "HELLO JACAERYS!"

"wow, hello to you too lisy!" he chuckled. "nearly broke my ear there."

"i try," she said with a shrug, eyes on your phone. "you've been on the phone for three hours?"

"don't judge," you told her. "it's boring baking by myself."

"it took you three hours to make your cinnamon rolls?" she asked.

"and cake pops," you answered.

"ooh, where?" she asked with an eager smile.

"setting in the fridge, don't touch them yet," you laughed. she looked back at your phone as jace apparently moved his, the sound crunching through your speakers.

suddenly, her eyes widened and her face paled. she clicked your phone as jace started talking again.

"gods, do i miss cake pops. what flavor, love? strawberry?"

"uh, yeah," you said slowly, crossing the small kitchen to grab your phone from your roommate, brows knitted in a silent question. she flashed your phone screen at you, brows raised high as she pointed at a little green text.

what r u doing tonight?

"who the hell is that?" she whispered.

"who is who?"

"nothing, jace. just some guy in my creative writing class who's asking me what i'm doing tonight," you said. you grabbed your phone, beginning to type out a response.

"and what are you doing tonight?" jace asked slowly.

"certainly nothing to do with him," you laughed. "probably watch a movie or something. maybe we can do the group watch thing on disney plus and watch the princess bride."

"i'm always down to watch princess bride with my future princess bride." you could hear the laugh on his tongue as he teased you and you giggled, lisy making a face of disgust.

"you two are gross," she said. "anyways, is the guy cute? i'm not doing anything tonight."

"his name is liam and he's kind of a jerk," you told her, scrunching your nose. "kept interrupting class with his stupid, slightly offensive jokes about our professor's teaching methods and then when we had to write a short narrative as a group he did no work."

"you didn't answer my question; is he cute?" she emphasized, a grin on her lips.

"i think you'd think he was cute," you finally told her, your grimace still on your lips. "i can tell him you'll go if you want."

"yes please," she said dramatically. "i'll go get ready."

"you don't even know what you're doing!" you called as she sprinted to her room.

"whatever!"

"she is a hoot," jace laughed through the phone.

"yes, yes she is," you answered with a giggle. you returned to your device, quickly telling the boy that your roommate was interested and copying her number. but, you hadn't sent it when he answered.

-i want to go with you. are you busy?

"the fuck?" you muttered, narrowing your brows.

"what?" jace asked quickly.

"this is just weird. he's being weird," you mumbled.

i'm hanging out with my boyfriend.

like i said, my roommate is free. this is her number if you want to text her about it

you waited for a response, getting increasingly annoyed that his texts were green and you couldn't watch him type.

"what'd he say?"

"that he wants to go with me. but, i said i was hanging out with my boyfriend and gave him her number, so hopefully he'll bugger off," you answered.

-do you and your boy wanna come?

you sighed. "guess not. he asked if we wanna go, and i really don't want to say that you don't exactly live in italy."

"then don't, just say no," jacaerys told you.

"alright," you mumbled.

can't sorry.

-next time for sure

you didn't answer that, instead returning to your icing. "i'm about done with my rolls if you want to send me the disney request."

"on it, love."

"who did you tell that my boyfriend doesn't live here?" you asked lisy quickly, brows raised. "liam will not leave me alone."

"what's he saying?" the girl asked with knitted brows.

"that jace doesn't need to know," you said before widening your eyes and throwing your hands in the air dramatically. "he's asking me to hook up!"

she gasped. "no way."

"yes way!" you groaned, falling on the couch.

"have you told jace?" she asked, sitting next to you.

"well, sure," you said. "he was on the phone when i got the text. and then when he started passing me notes in class i sent pictures to him."

"what'd he say?"

"that he'd fly down to punch him in the mouth if he tried anything," you answered with a sigh. "i can't wait to go home in a few days. i miss him."

"you've missed him since you got here," she laughed.

"i know," you laughed with her. "it sucks."

a knock on your door caught both your attentions.

"did you invite anyone over?" lisy asked you, brows furrowed.

"no. you didn't?"

"nope."

you stared at each other for a few moments before lisy shrieked, "nose goes!" and pressed her pointer finger to her nose before you even had the chance to do the same.

"cheater!" you cried.

"you have to get it!" she yelled with a laugh.

"shh," you said, holding a finger up as you stood and approached the door.

your face fell when you opened it and saw who it was. "liam."

"hi," the boy said with a cocky grin, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie jacket. "how are you?"

"fine..." you said slowly, brows scrunching in confusion. "how did you get my address?"

"oh, don't worry about it," he said, shrugging casually. "do you want to go get some food?"

"i have a boyfriend, you know this," you said strictly.

"doesn't mean you can't have a little fun," he said with a gross smile. "who knows what he's getting up to while you're gone? don't you think you should be able to do the same?"

"i know what he's doing while i'm gone and it's nothing close to this. no thank you, liam," you told him, hand on the door as you went to push it closed. he caught it, eyes softening as he peered at you.

"please? i promise not to do anything," he tried. you furrowed your brows.

"no," you said, your response the most obvious thing to both you and lisy who was watching behind you protectively. "i still don't trust you and i still have a boyfriend. go home."

"oh come on-"

"go home!" lisy yelled, pushing the door shut. you locked it before turning to her gratefully. she settled back on one foot, brows furrowed as she stared at the door for a few moments. "he really wasn't that cute."

you laughed lightly before walking towards your room.

"where are you going?"

"i have to tell jace, he'll never believe this!"

jacaerys didn't know you were coming home for the holidays. you'd told him some ridiculous lie about having finals too close to christmas and that there was a big new years party that you didn't want to miss and he believed you. he said he wasn't mad, that you should live up your life in italy.

little did he know you were absolutely tired of italy and more than ready to jump back in his arms.

baela and alysanne picked you up from the airport with excited screams, hugging you tightly as you laughed joyously.

"my girls!" you cheered. "how are you?!"

"fantastic now that you're here," alys said with a smile. she scrunched her brows. "where's your friend?"

"she decided she did have enough money to go home," you answered with a shrug and a smile. "it's all the same - i get to be home with you guys!"

"ugh, i'm so glad you're back," baela said. "so much has happened."

"since i talked to you last week?"

"oh, you don't know the half of it," she sighed dramatically, grabbing your arm as she and alysanne dragged you out to your car. "so addam..."

you saw rhaenyra before you saw jace, the woman capturing you in a warm, tight hug as soon as she laid eyes on you. baela slipped in behind you with a laugh and made her way upstairs to her room.

"look at you!" rhaenyra said with a gasp. "you look so beautiful! i'm so glad you're here."

"me too," you said with a laugh light on your breath. "thank you for letting me over."

"anytime, my dear, anytime," she insisted, smiling widely as she led you further into the house. she left your side to begin pulling chicken from the fridge, allowing space for her children to spot you.

soon enough, you had viserys and aegon clinging to your sides and joffrey patiently waiting his turn at the entrance to the kitchen. you laughed, kneeling down to hug them all properly, waving joff over once you finished with aegon.

"how are you all?" you asked excitedly.

"good!" the three cheered.

"i made a gingerbread house out of graham crackers," joffrey said proudly. "do you want to see it?"

"of course i do," you told him, your smile widening. "but, i think i have to go see jace first. do you know where he is?"

as the littles shook their heads, rhaenyra said, "he just left to his room."

"awesome," you said, standing and taking a step towards the staircase. you pointed at joffrey. "me and jace will be down in a few minutes to see your gingerbread house, okay?"

"okay!" he said happily.

you turned and quickly made your way up the carpeted steps, heaidng down the hallway you knew like the back of you hand. you approached his door slowly, hand resting on the handle as you raised your knuckles to rap gently on the wood.

"come in," he called from inside, causing your heart to jump and a smile to pull at your lips. you pushed the door open, seeing him seated at his desk with a notebook in front of him, though his attention was on his phone.

"hey," you said gently.

he looked up quickly, his eyes widening as he abandoned his phone and flew from his seat. he wrapped his arms around your torso, you barely managing to get your arms out to wrap around his neck before he squeezed you tightly, his momentum sending you both into the wall. you laughed loudly, hugging him back joyously, one hand raking through his curls as he nuzzled into your neck, pressing a few kisses there before he mumbled into your skin.

"what are you doing here? why didn't you tell me?"

"i wanted to surprise you," you told him, pulling him back enough to see his beautiful coffee brown eyes. his smile was the widest you'd seen it as he leaned in and captured you for a quick, but deep kiss. he pulled away, hugging you tightly to him once more, kissing your cheek, jaw, and neck in quick little pecks, his energy vivid and sporadic as he held you close.

"this is the best surprise, love," he told you, pulling away to kiss you again. "i love you so much. i missed you so much." he kissed you again, not giving you a chance to respond as you giggled lightly. he pulled back, eyes raking over your face and then your form, drinking you in for only a few seconds before he muttered, "gods, you're beautiful." his mouth returned to your own when you heard a door open.

you pulled back, tucking yourself in jace's side as you turned to see luke standing in his doorway with an unimpressed quirk of his brow and baela standing in hers with her phone up.

"really? i don't even get a hello before i'm subjected to you making out?" he asked. you laughed, slipping from jace's grasp to give his little brother a hug.

"hi luke," you told him.

"hello y/n," he hummed, laughing lightly when you pulled back and rolled your eyes. you turned your attention to baela, who's phone was still pointed at you.

"i got that whole thing on camera," she said with a giggle. "super cute, it's gonna go viral."

"you can't post it!" you cried, laughing as you reached for the device. she pulled it out of your reach, stepping back into her room and beginning to push the door closed.

"it's my video!" she laughed. "go back to your boyfriend!"

when her door shut and lucerys snuck between you two to descend the stairs, you did go back to your boyfriend. you snuggled into his grasp, sighing contentedly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"i missed you."

"i missed you too."

"let's go out tonight," he suggested, his chin settling comfortable on the top of you head as you leaned into him.

"where are you thinking?"

"just some food and a drive. i'll drive if we can take your car." you could hear the smile and you sighed, grinning yourself.

"i guess..."

"alright, where should we go?"

"italy doesn't have nando's."

"well, then we have to get you some nando's."

by the time that you'd escaped his house - having to stop for joffrey's graham cracker gingerbread house, a brief coaching session with luke on how to flirt with the girl he likes over text, and to attempt to convince daemon that the italians did in fact think you had a good accent when you spoke italian even though he thought otherwise - it was well past dark.

you giggled as jace held your door open and shut it after you, crossing to the other side to slip into the driver's side. he started up the crappy old ford with a wide grin, handing you the aux cable immediately.

"we need to get you a bluetooth adapter," he hummed as he pulled out of the neighborhood. "my phone doesn't even plug into that one anymore."

"you got a new phone?" you asked, clicking on the same album you always played when you were with jace. you listened to it a lot when you were alone in italy, lights out and lisy off with friends, just missing your boy.

"yeah. i'm still on mum's family plan and everyone got an upgrade for some promotional. i don't know if i like it yet," he admitted with a shrug. "it did make facetiming you easier. my battery didn't die as fast, and for that i love it."

"that's nice. i was always plugged in while talking to you," you told him with a laugh. he grabbed your hand over the middle console, shooting you a smile. "it was worth it, though."

"i'm just so glad you're actually here now. i was certain this was going to be the worst holiday i've had yet, but now you're here with me, so it'll be the best," he said. "are you coming over for christmas or will you be with your family?"

"no, dad's off with his witch girl and my siblings are at my grandparents'. your mum offered for me to stay here with you guys for the whole holiday," you answered. he grinned, squeezing your hand.

"are you going to? or do you want to be with alysanne?" he asked.

"i mean, if you don't mind seeing me literally 24/7 i would actually love to stay with you guys," you replied with a small smile. "i love your family."

"and they love you," he said. "stay. i'm pretty sure everyone would be ecstatic if you did."

"alright, i will," you agreed, your heart fluttering a bit at the thought of it. you were always welcomed at the targaryen household, but to be spending christmas with them? that was a new level of love.

after he parked, he leaned over the console to kiss you again, earning a slight giggle as you kissed him back. he pulled back just enough to grin at you before kissing you again, his free hand brushing over your cheek gently. you pulled away finally, staring at him with an incredulous sort of love.

"let's get food," you insisted, turning to get out. he pulled on your hand, making you to turn back to him. he shook his head and quickly exited the vehicle, coming to your side in a moment and opening your door. you hopped out with a wide smile, accepting his hand again when you came chest to chest with the boy. "you're the perfect gentleman."

"only for you," he said, wiggling his brows as he shut the door and pulled you towards nando's.

as you stood in line, talking about how aemond started posting the same girl on his stories recently, you people watched. you always liked to see who was out to get chicken at nine o'clock at night. nando's seemed to have the wildest people, from a man wearing a tshirt that read 'danny dorito' with danny davito's face on a dorito, to a chick waiting by the doors with a chihuahua in a stroller. and then there was the weirdest one -

liam.

"shit, what?" you said quickly, brows furrowing as you stepped behind jace. he looked up from your phone where you'd previously been viewing aemond's story highlights, immediately scanning the room for what could've incited such a reaction from you.

"what is it?" he asked, his hold on your hand tightening. the line moved up and you stayed behind him, the man understanding your attempts and keeping you out of sight of whatever it was you were nervous about. "love, what is it?"

"remember that liam guy i kept telling you about? that came to my house and kept hitting on me in class? he's here," you told him, peeking around his arm to see if he was still sat with the three boys you saw him with.

"what the hell?" he muttered, eyes narrowing on the kid. "we'll just get our food to go. i'd rather not risk meeting him."

"i thought you said you'd beat him up for me?" you asked with a light giggle.

"if he comes us and starts something then of course. but, i don't start fights, darling, i finish them," he told you. you grinned as you pulled him further up the line, ordering once you reached the register.

as jace began paying, you glanced back at where liam had been, your curiosity getting the bets of you. your brows furrowed when you didn't spot the boy - he'd just been there a moment before.

"thank you," jacaerys told the cashier with a charming smile before stepping back next to you, hand grabbing yours as he pulled you to fill your drinks. the nando's workers were speedy tonight, holding your bag out as jace rushed by, the boy grabbing it with a thanks. he eyed you carefully. "what's wrong?"

"nothing, i just-"

"y/n!"

you both turned quickly, brows knitted tightly at the call of your name. of course it was liam.

"liam," you said slowly, nodding as you eyed him. "hi."

liam approached with a wide grin, a strange swagger in his step. you pursed your lips as you watched him. jace pulled you closer to him, his grip tightening slightly.

"crazy to see you here," liam drawled, his grin making your skin crawl. his eyes flashed to jacaerys. "is this the boyfriend you've been talking about?"

"yes. this is jacaerys," you said shortly, not bothering to introduce your classmate.

"pleasure to meet you jacaerys," liam hummed, holding a hand out to him. jace clasped it securely, a straight look on his face as he eyed him with a steel gaze. "i'm liam."

"alright," jace said.

"me and y/n go to school in italy together," he continued.

"alright," jace repeated, releasing his hand with a slight shove. "good to meet you, mate. if you'll excuse us, we've got to get going."

"why don't you join me and my friend bobby? we're heading to a party later tonight with some college friends, you should come," liam offered.

"no thanks," you said quickly, glancing at jace with an unintelligible look in your eyes. "we've got plans."

"you've always got plans, don't you sweetheart," liam sighed, turning your attention back to him. your furrowed your brows again.

"sorry?"

"every time i invite you out, you refuse. i'm just being friendly."

"and i'm perfectly friendly when i say no. it's alright for you to accept that i don't want to hang out with you, liam."

"ouch," he said, a grin still slipping off the side of his lips as he held a hand to his heart. "you don't want to hang out with me?"

"i think she's made that clear," jace told him, stepping towards him. "now, like i said before; we've got to get going."

he didn't wait for a response before dragging you away to the drinks station, filling both your cups quickly, and pulling you back to the car. "i see what you mean," he muttered as he helped you in your side.

"he's kinda pushy," you answered, accepting the bag of steaming food before he shut your door and crossed to his side. he sat down with a sigh, starting the car up.

"just a bit."

"let's get out of here."

you sung along to the playlist you were used to, the one you'd curated with jace when you first started dating and began these drives, and the one you listened to the most while in italy and missing him desperately. a mix between enthusiastic songs you weren't afraid to belt out and slow, sweet songs that varied from taylor swift and old american country artists, your playlist had everything.

eventually, he pulled off to the side of the peak of the Rim, a mountain range not too far out from his parents' house and one you frequented over the last almost two years of dating. he pulled you out of the old ford and onto the roof, the bag of nando's in your hand.

you chatted while you ate, random nonsense and updates of luke's love life that he'd failed to mention in your regular facetimes.

"joffrey's even got a girlfriend now," he hummed with a cheeky grin, laughing as you gasped and pushed his shoulder.

"he does not!" you cried, eyes wide. "but, he's so little!"

"he's twelve," jace shrugged. "we all had girlfriends and boyfriends at that age. you 'go out' for a day or two and be done with it."

"and is he done with it?" you asked.

"no," he admitted, laughing loudly before he continued. "he bought her a peppermint teddy for christmas. she told him she was jewish and he was mortified, but she said she'd take it for hanukkah. he spent all week trying to convince mum and daemon to let him buy her six more presents to go along."

"i thought there were eight?" you asked.

"either way," he said with a shrug. "mum said no. he'd already spent his whole allowance on the teddy and we still had to draw for family secret santa."

"who'd you get?" you asked with a soft smile.

"actually, i was hoping for your help on that. i got baela."

"oh, i can definitely help with that," you said, a giggle following your words.

you sat in contented silence for another few moments, finishing the rest of your meals before jace spoke again.

"i didn't like the way he was looking at you."

you looked at him quickly, eyes softening in realization of what he meant. you leaned into his side, holding his arm gently. "me neither. but, i doubt it'll happen again - i think you intimidated him."

"it won't happen again," he said, the words so sure, so definite that it made you furrow your brows.

"i'm sure," you agreed, determining to say nothing more on the matter.

another silence passed over you as jace considered his words, looking down on you with a soft smile and a certain resolve.

"i'm studying with you next semester."

"what?" you asked quickly, pulling away to look at him with a wide smile. "you are? you're coming to italy?"

"well, now that the football season is over i can. i spoke with admissions and they agreed it'd be a good experience. i start next term with you," he said, smiling at you so sweetly. "and well, i couldn't leave you with the likes of liam for another semester. i don't think i could handle that."

"thank you," you sighed, tucking into his side with a neverending smile. "i love you."

"i love you too."

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #prince jacaerys #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jacaerys targaryen #harry collett x reader #harry collett #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #hotd #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #modern jacaerys x reader #modern jacaerys #long distance

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ahqkas · 5 months ago

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♯ PRACTICE MAKES IT BETTER ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! struggling with the local slang, you feel out of place until you meet theodore nott, the silent slytherin (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 2.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing + lmk !

NOTES! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

AMERICA WAS VIBRANT AND DIVERSE. The music scene was thriving with genres like grunge, hip-hop, and pop dominating the airwaves. To you, it was a place of contrasts and boundless possibilities. It was a land where towering skyscrapers stood next to historic buildings, and where you could find everything from bustling cities to quiet, open countryside. The diversity was striking; every state feels like its own little world, with different cultures, foods, and ways of life. It was a country where you could experience all four seasons, with hot summers, cold winters, and vibrant springs and autumns. The sheer size and variety made it feel like there was always something new to explore, whether it was a national park, a music festival, or just a quirky little town.

Then you moved to England.

Leaving behind the familiar sights and sounds of America, you stepped into a new world of magic and centuries-old traditions.

The first thing you noticed was the climate change. England's weather was full of frequent rain and cloudy skies. You had to get used to bringing an umbrella everywhere with you.

Hogwarts in Scotland was completely different from Ilvermorny, which resided on Mount Greylock. The towering buildings of the castle intimidated you a bit as you were used to the more modern school, but you were excited for the change of scenery.

The stone corridors, moving staircases, and enchanted portraits had captivated your imagination. The castle itself was full of new discoveries. Sure, you missed your old friends dearly, every one of them, but the owls worked hard and you managed to make new friends here.

As an exchange student from America, walking the hallowed halls of Hogwarts was a totally new experience. The ancient castle with its sprawling grounds, enchanted staircases, and hidden passageways was like stepping into a dream. But it wasn't just the magical environment that threw you off balance; it was the British slang that seemed to pop up in every conversation.

During your first week, you found yourself constantly bewildered by the new expressions. At breakfast, when a cheerful Hufflepuff asked if you wanted a "banger" with your eggs, you hesitated, unsure if it was an insult or a menu item. When a Ravenclaw mentioned being "knackered" after a long night of studying, you had to suppress a laugh, thinking it sounded more like a sound effect from a comic book than an expression of exhaustion.

The confusion was endless: "snogging" instead of kissing, "knickers" instead of underwear, "blimey" instead of a simple exclamation of surprise. You did your best to keep up, but the nuances of the language often left you feeling like you were missing the punchline of a joke. To put it simply, you were lost.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the library, poring over a stack of books for a Transfiguration assignment, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Ciao, piccola," Theodore Nott drawled, sliding into the seat across from yours. His presence was effortlessly welcomed, with his cool demeanor and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He was a strange boy at first, never letting anyone, but when you warmed up to him, he was a totally new person.

"Hi, Theo," you greeted him with a smile playing on your lips. Theodore had been one of the first students to approach you, his Italian heritage a surprising connection. He often teased you in his native language, enjoying the way you fumbled with the unfamiliar phrases. A nuisance, that he was.

"Come va la tua giornata?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ("How's your day doing?")

Already hearing this phrase a few times, you learned to understand its translation. With a sigh, you ran a hand through your hair. "It's been . . . interesting. I'm still trying to understand half of what everyone says here."

Theo chuckled, the sound rich and warm to your ears. "British slang getting to you?"

"You could say that," you admitted, leaning back in your chair as you watched his amusement at your misery. "I feel like I need a translator just for conversations."

"Well, if you think British slang is confusing, wait until I teach you some Italian slang," Theo smirked at the idea that appeared on his mind. "It's a whole different level."

Now this got your attention. "Teach me, then. It can't be that difficult from the British slang."

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott became your informal language tutor. He started with simple phrases, weaving them into everyday conversations until you began to pick them up naturally. He taught you how to greet someone with "Ciao, amico!" instead of a formal "Buongiorno," and how to say "Andiamo!" when you were ready to go.

One rainy afternoon, as you sat together in the Great Hall, Theo decided to test your knowledge. The rain tapped persistently against the high, arched windows, casting a muted gray light across the large hall. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside, swirling with dark clouds and flashes of lightning that illuminated the space completely. Despite the dreary weather, the Great Hall buzzed with the soft hum of student conversations, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the rustling of pages.

Theo, seated across from you at the Slytherin table, leaned back casually, a mischievous glint in his eye. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, framing his sharp features. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, the way he delighted in challenging you with phrases in Italian, watching with amusement as you thought through the unfamiliar language. Today was no different, his eyes scanning the hall as if seeking inspiration for his next test.

You had been in the midst of revising for an upcoming Charms exam, your notes spread out around you in a chaotic array of parchment and textbooks. The soft light from the floating candles above cast a warm glow on the pages, making the ink shimmer slightly. As Theo's gaze returned to you, you knew another one of his lessons was coming.

"What would you say if you were really tired?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Theo's questions were always a blend of practical and playful, designed to push you just a little further each time. He spoke with the ease of someone completely comfortable in his skin, his words flowing like the rain outside, steady and sure. His Italian phrases, though foreign at first, began to weave themselves into the mind of your understanding.

Your responses grew more confident, the hesitation in your voice diminishing with each passing day. You found yourself thinking in Italian at times, the language slipping into your thoughts as naturally as your own. Theo's delight was evident, his eyes lighting up whenever you got something right, his praise sincere and heartfelt.

The rain outside showed no signs of letting up, but within the Great Hall, a warmth lingered.

You thought for a moment, then confidently replied, "Sono stanca morta." The phrase rolled off your tongue more smoothly than before, each syllable a small victory in your journey to master his native language. The meaning — "I'm dead tired" — was all too familiar after long days filled with classes and studying.

Theo laughed, the sound rich and genuine, echoing softly in the near-empty Great Hall. His laughter was like a reward, a confirmation that you were getting it right. Silver eyes sparkled with approval, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that made your heart flutter. The warmth of his reaction was comforting against the dreary, rain-soaked afternoon outside.

"Well done!" His voice was filled with genuine pride and delight, making you feel accomplished. His praise was never out of place; it was always heartfelt.

Your heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy. Learning Italian was not just about understanding a new language, but also about bridging the gap between your worlds. Each phrase, each word, was a step closer to understanding Theo better, and a way to connect on a deeper level.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching yours, waiting for your next move. "And if you wanted to compliment someone on a job well done?" His question was another gentle challenge, pushing you to dig deeper into your newfound vocabulary.

"Bravo!" you answered without hesitation. The word felt natural, a perfect fit for the context. As you spoke, you couldn't help but smile, the simple word carrying a world of meaning and mutual respect. Seeing the approval in Theo's eyes, you felt a surge of confidence.

Theo's smile broadened, and his expression softened with pride and admiration. The approval in his eyes was more than just about your grasp of the language; it was about your willingness to immerse yourself in something new, to share a part of his heritage, to make an effort to connect.

The atmosphere around you felt lighter, the earlier tension of the day's studies dissolving into a shared moment of triumph and connection. The Great Hall, with its towering windows and ancient stone walls, seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world of language and laughter.

The candles above flickered gently, casting a warm glow that danced across Theo's features, highlighting the pride in his eyes.

One day, as you walked together by the Black Lake, the cold water reflecting the moody sky, Theo turned to you, his expression thoughtful. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient trees that lined the shore, their branches swaying rhythmically as if in silent conversation. The scene was picturesque, the expanse of the lake stretching out before you, a serene contrast to the bustling life within the castle walls. It was quiet out here, and you liked this spot.

"You know, you've picked up Italian slang faster than I expected," Theo remarked, his voice carrying a hint of admiration and surprise. His thoughtful tone blended seamlessly with the natural sounds around you, creating a moment of perfect harmony.

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree, echoing across the still waters. Nudging him playfully, you replied, "Maybe I had a good teacher." The playful banter was a reflection of the easy camaraderie that had developed between you, a testament to the countless hours spent learning and laughing together.

Theo's smile softened at your words, a tender expression that seemed to light up his face. His gaze lingered on you, the depth of his affection and pride evident in his eyes. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, each shared glance made your knees tremble. Like you were the only girl at Hogwarts.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a warmth that enveloped you. "Or maybe you just have a knack for languages." His words were a gentle compliment, a recognition of your efforts and abilities.

The path around the Black Lake was peaceful, the occasional ripple disturbing the otherwise mirror-like surface of the water. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and damp earth. As you walked side by side, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the rest of the universe fading into the background.

Your footsteps synchronized, a silent dance of familiarity and comfort. The conversations flowed effortlessly, alternating between Italian lessons and shared dreams, each word weaving a tapestry of understanding and companionship. Theo's presence was a constant, steady and reassuring, his thoughtful insights and quiet encouragements a source of strength.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape. The twilight hues painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, a breathtaking sight that added to the magic of the moment. Theo's silhouette against the backdrop of the setting sun was a picture of serenity and quiet strength, a reminder of the stability he brought into your life.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the Slytherin boy took a small step closer, closing the distance between you. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, his proximity sending a gentle thrill through your body. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up your arm.

In that moment, with the golden light of dusk casting a magical glow around you, Theo leaned in. His movements were deliberate, filled with a tender hesitation. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure, unadulterated connection.

The kiss was gentle at first, a soft press of lips that spoke everything you needed to know. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the gentle caress of his hand against your cheek — it all combined to create a sensation that was both exhilarating and deeply comforting.

Theo's hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. The kiss deepened, becoming more confident, more insistent. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The connection between you intensified, the kiss becoming a language of its own, expressing everything words couldn't.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. The world slowly came back into focus, the sounds of nature reasserting themselves around you. Theo's eyes, still holding that mix of affection and awe, met yours. A soft, contented smile played on his lips.

"Grazie, Theo," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude.

"For what?" he asked confused, his brow furrowing slightly.

"For being patient with me. For this. For . . . everything."

Theo's eyes softened, and he reached out, intertwining your fingers in one. "No worries," he replied, his voice just as soft. "I'm glad I could help."

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 1 year ago

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Jack-o'-lanterns have such a grab bag of lore, i love it

Fire, of course, has a long history of offering protection from evil forces. During the Celtic festival of Samhain (from which many Halloween traditions originate), the veil between worlds was considered thin, and ritual bonfires reminded the spooks to stay on their side of the lane.

Many a lantern has protected the lonely traveler on a dark moonless night. But lanterns can be dangerous too—especially the supernatural ones. in certain folklore 'jack-o'-lantern' was another name for will-o'-the-wisps, atmospheric ghost lights (or as legend has it, lost souls) that appear above bogs and lure unwise wanderers into sinkholes.

Then there's the 18th cent Irish folktale of Stingy Jack, a mischievous fellow who tricked the Devil twice, exacting a promise that hell would never claim his soul. So Jack goes on his cheerful way, and dies (as humans are prone to do), and ends up at the pearly gates. Now Heaven, it turns out, doesn't want a damn thing to do with him. So Jack jaunts on down and goes knocking on the gates of hell—only to have Satan slam the door in his face! How this leads to Stingy Jack being doomed to wander the earth carrying a hollowed out rutabaga lit by an ember of the flames of hell, I couldn't tell you. But that is how the story goes.

Whether the legend of Stingy Jack inspired or fueled or was created-by the gourd-carving practice, by the 19th cent, Irish, Scottish, and Welsh alike were annually carving jack-o'-lanterns out of turnips & rutabaga & beets & potatoes, and lighting them up to ward off Jack and other wandering spirits. Immigrants carried the tradition to North America, where pumpkins were indigenous and much easier to carve.

And so the modern Jack-o'-Lantern was born!

Not that gourd lanterns were anything new. Metalwork was expensive, after all, and gourds worked as-well-as and better-than-most crops when it came to carving a poor farmer's lantern.

As for carving human faces into vegetables, that supposedly goes back thousands of years in certain Celtic cultures. It may even have evolved from head veneration, or been used to represent the severed skulls of enemies defeated in battle. Or maybe not! Like many human traditions, jack-o'-lanterns evolved over multiple eras and cultures and regions, in some ways we can trace and others we can only guess at. But at the end of the day, it makes a damn good story, and a spooky way to celebrate—which is as good a reason as any (and a better reason than most!) to keep a tradition going.

In conclusion: happy spooky season, and remind me to tell yall about plastered human skulls one of these days 🎃

srcs 1, 2, 3

#halloween #halloween history #jack o lantern

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secretmellowblog · 2 years ago

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The thing is, Jean Valjean’s “nineteen year prison sentence for stealing a loaf of bread” from Les Mis isn’t actually unusual….not even today! I see people talking about it as if it’s strange or unimaginable when it happens every day.

In modern America — often as a result of pointlessly cruel (and racist) habitual offender and mandatory minimum laws— people are routinely sentenced to life in prison for minor crimes like shoplifting or possession of drugs.

The ACLU did a report in 2013 detailing the lives of various people who were sentenced to life in prison without parole for nonviolent property crimes like:

•attempting to cash a stolen check

•a junk-dealer’s possession of stolen junk

metal (10 valves and one elbow pipe)

•possession of stolen wrenches

•siphoning gasoline from a truck

•stealing tools from a tool shed and a welding machine from a yard

•shoplifting three belts from a department store

•shoplifting several digital cameras

•shoplifting two jerseys from an athletic store

• taking a television, circular saw, and a power converter from a vacant house

• breaking into a closed liquor store in the middle of the night

And of course, so so so many people sentenced to life without parole for the possession of a few grams of drugs.

And we could go on and on!

Gregory Taylor was a homeless man in Los Angeles who, in 1997, was sentenced to “25 years to life” for attempting to steal food from a food kitchen. He was released after 13 years. The lawyers helping to release him even cited Les Miserables in their appeal, comparing Taylor’s sentence to Jean Valjean’s.

And there’s another specific bit of social commentary Hugo was making about Valjean’s trial that’s still depressingly relevant. He writes that Valjean was sentenced for the theft of loaf of bread, but also that the court managed to make that sentence stick by bringing up some of his past misdemeanors. For example, Valjean owned a gun and was known to occasionally poach wildlife (presumably for his starving family to eat.) . So the court exaggerates how harmful the bread theft was—he had to smash a windowpane to get the bread, which is basically Violence— then insist the fact that he owns a gun and occasionally poaches is proof that he is habitually and innately violent. Then when Valjean obviously becomes distressed traumatized and furious as a result of his nakedly unjust sentence and begins making desperate (and very unsuccessful/impulsive/ poorly thought through) attempts to escape…. the government indifferently tacks more years onto his sentence, labels him a “dangerous” felon, and insists that its initial read of him as an innately violent person was correct.

And it’s sad how a lot of the real life stories linked earlier are similar to the commentary Hugo wrote in 1863? Someone will commit a nonviolent property crime, and then the court insists that a bunch of other miscellaneous things they’ve done in the past (whether it’s other minor thefts or being addicted to drugs or w/e) are Proof they’re inherently violent and incapable of being around other people.

A small very petty fandom side note: This is also why I dislike all those common jokes you see everywhere along the lines of “lol it’s so unrealistic for the police to want to arrest Valjean over a loaf of bread, there must have been some other reason the police were pursuing him. Because the state would never punish someone that harshly and irrationally for no reason. so maybe javert was just gay haha”. (Ex: this tiktok— please don’t harass the creator or poster though, I don’t think they were intending to mean anything like that and its just a silly common type of joke you see made about Les mis all the time so it’s not unique in any way.) because like.

As much as I don’t think Les Mis is a flawless book or that its political messaging is perfect….the only way that insanely long unjust sentences for minor crimes is “unrealistic” is if you’re operating on the assumption that prisons are here to Keep You Safe by always only punishing bad criminals who do serious crimes. And that’s just, not true at all. Like I get that these are just goofy silly shallow jokes, and I’m not angry or going to harass anyone who makes them. but it feels like there’s an assumption underlying all those goofy jokes that “this is just not how prison works!” “Prisons don’t routinely sentence people to absurd laughably unjust pointless sentences!” “Prisons give people fair sentences for logical reasons!” When like…no

Valjean being relentlessly hounded and tortured for a minor crime in a way that is utterly ridiculous and arbitrary in its cruelty is not actually a plot hole in Les mis. It’s a plot hole in …..society ajsjkdkdkf. And the only way to fix that is to fight for prison abolition or at least reform, and (in America) stand up against the vicious naked cruelty of habitual offender and mandatory minimum laws.

But yeah :(. I hate how Les Mis opens with a prologue saying the novel will be obsolete the moment the social issues it describes have been resolved— but two hundred years later, the book is still more relevant than ever because we’re dealing with so many of the exact same injustices.

#les mis #lm 1.2.6 #Jean Valjean #anyway sometimes lm 1.2.6 makes me sad and sometimes it makes me angry #today I feel both #: ‘(((((((((((((((#but yeah #also again I don’t hate people who make the goofy ‘lol valjeans prison sentence was so unrealistic javert must be gay’ jokes #i get that they’re jokes #and that they’re mostly made by people who like watched Les mis 2012 once #but also #but also but also #:’’’’(#I don’t know the tragedy of valjeans story and the continued relevance of that social commentary Gets to me #Les mis letters #Les mis daily

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metamatar · 10 months ago

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something something american necropolitics the tillamook county creamery association found online on tillamook dot com that sells many dairy products in the united states under the brand name tillamook has no relationship and makes no acknowledgement of the tillamook people from whom it get its name. the name comes from the chinook translation of the people of nehalem. early contact with european sailing ships is dated to the 1770s. in 1805 lewis and clark's "discovery" expedition noted at the time that many large villages had been depopulated by pandemics and many adults had smallpox scars. this followed a period of fur trading with the involvement of hudson bay corporation. in 1850, the us govt passed the oregon donation land act, announcing over 2,500,000 acres of land as available for settlers to seize, which happened in patterns whose violence mirrors that of the continent. there was no treaty. in 1907, the tribe sued and was paid 23,500 dollars for the land the us govt has seized from them when it forced them onto the siletz reservation. the tillamook language is a salishan language that lost its last fluent speaker in 1970. many descendants are considered part of the confederated tribes of siletz. other nehalem are part of the unrecognized clatsop nehalem confederated tribes. the nehalem-tillamook were also socially and economically integrated with the clatsop peoples. today the town of tillamook has a population that is only 1.5% native american. the modern day corporation started as a settler coop created in 1909. it is the 48th largest dairy processor in north america and posted $1 billion in sales in 2021.

#sometimes i see an interesting word or name in the us and inevitably its history is something like this #but i hadn't seen an actually brand named after a tribe yet that made no acknowledgement of it #pnw #<- idk local history tag

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trans-axolotl · 4 months ago

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ID: Intersex activist Max Beck standing in front of the American Academy of Pediatrics with a sign that says Silence=Death.

On October 26th, 1996, the first ever protest for intersex liberation in America took place when activists from Hermaphrodites With Attitude took to the streets to protest the American Academy of Pediatrics. Later memorialized as intersex awareness day, this important action was a milestone for the American intersex movement. Max Beck, one of the intersex activists from HWA, documented the entire protest and later published their recollection in the Intersex Awakening Issue of the Chrysalis Journal. The full piece is pasted under the cut.

"But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred.

I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America. One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience.

We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!"

Hermaphrodites With Attitude Take to the Streets: By Max Beck, 1997

In late October of 1996, Hermaphrodites with Attitude took to the streets, in the first public demonstration by intersexuals in modern history. On a glorious fall day, the like of which you can only find in New England, under a crackling, cloudless sky, twenty-odd protesters joined forces to picket the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians in Boston. Deeply aware of the historical and personal significance of the action, and — correctly — surmising that a notebook diary would not be practical on such a whirlwind, windy week-end, I took a small hand-held tape recorder with me. What follows are excerpts from the resulting transcript.

October 24, 1996 2:45 PM, Atlanta’s Hartsfield International Airport

The trip has only just begun and I am already exhausted. Hot. Starving. Fifteen minutes until take-off. Every businessman boarding the plane looks like a pediatric endocrinologist, Boston-bound. Silly thought, testimony to what? My anxiety? My fear? My giddy anticipation? If these bespectacled, suit-and-tie sporting men were pediatricians, would they be flying coach on Continental, with a layover in Newark? I’m headed for Boston, for the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians (AAP). Tens of thousands of pediatricians. I’m not a pediatrician, though, nor am I a nurse; in fact, I barely managed to complete my B.A. I’m a manager of a technical laboratory. We don’t work with children, and the AAP certainly didn't invite me, so why am I going?

With the plane taxiing toward take-off, this is a lousy time to reassess. I’m going. I’m going because I am intersexed. I’m going because the doctors and nurses who treated me as an infant and a child and an adolescent, and those who continue to treat intersexed infants and children today, consider me “lost to follow-up.” I was lost— that’s part of the problem. Now, I’m back.

9:02 PM: Boston’s North End

I’m comfortably ensconced in Alice’s warehouse condo in Boston’s North End, a renovated warehouse with a view of the city skyline, ceilings easily twenty feet high, exposed beams and brick, gorgeous tile floor. As I speak, my hostess is preparing an absolutely phenomenal meal. The aroma of roasted peppers permeates the entire space. Tomorrow, the work begins; my project this evening is to unwind and enjoy this wonderful meal. Easier said than done. I’m feeling excited, enervated, I feel very alive, something I don’t feel very often, I feel very present and aware. It could be my exhaustion, it could be the Chardonnay. But I think, rather, that the excitement is anticipation about what we are about to do. Being here, finally being prepared to raise a voice, to be heard, to be seen, a vocal, out, proud hermaphrodite who is standing up to say, “Let’s rethink this, this isn’t working, we’ve been hurt, stop what you’re doing, listen to us!” I’m really looking forward to meeting Morgan at the airport in the morning; it’s always amazing to make eye contact with someone else who has been there.

October 25, 7:38 AM Boston Commons

En route to my encounter with the AAP, walking the approximately two miles from my hostess’ domicile to the Marriott Hotel at Copley Square, I pause in the Boston Commons to enjoy a park bench, to sip my Starbuck’s decaf, and to watch a group of senior citizens performing Japanese swordsmanship on top of the hill beneath a monument to some forgotten general. The city is cool this morning, but clear, and it promises to be a beautiful weekend. That’s good: we won’t be rained out. I’ve got a stack of about ninety ISNA brochures in the bag at my side, crammed in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. If I want these pamphlets to get inside, I’ve got to get to the site of the Nurses’ Panel at the Marriott before they close the doors. Then it’s back out to the airport, to pick up Morgan. My feet are already killing me.

October 26, 9:15 AM: North End

Morgan and I are sitting at our hostess’ breakfast table, pulling our thoughts together. In a few minutes, we’ll have to leave to pick up Riki at the airport. The logistics of pulling together an action are mind-boggling. There’s no describing the thrill, though, of all that work, all those phone calls, all those miles. Riding a clattering subway on a Saturday morning, seated beside another living, breathing, laughing, swearing intersexual, hugging near-strangers at unfamiliar airports, then riding back, together, defiant, determined, organized, to the heart of so much of our pain, so much of our anger, so much of our need. We gathered in front of the huge Hynes Auditorium, pamphlets and leaflets in hand, and met the AAP attendees as they left the convention center for lunch. The next hour-and-a-half was a blur, as we positioned ourselves in strategic locations before the Hynes, held signs and “Hermaphrodites with Attitude” banner aloft, distributed our literature, engaged AAP members and passers-by in conversation and debate, spoke to microphones, to cameras. In all that time, I recorded only one fragment of a breathless sentence.

Saturday, 12:20 PM Outside the Hynes

We’ve got all the exits covered, and it’s an incredible, incredibly empowering experience. I remember the words I spoke to the TV camera, if only because I had scribbled a rough outline on the airplane, pirating mightily from Cheryl’s press release. And because the moment was so salient, so real. Me, Max, bespectacled, with blisters on my feet and chapped lips, speaking out to untold numbers of invisible viewers (and a few bewildered pediatricians behind me.)

"When an intersex child is born, parents and caregivers are faced with what seems to be a terrible dilemma: here is an infant who does not fit what our society deems normal. Immediate medical intervention seems indicated, in order to spare the parents and the child the inevitable stigmatization associated with being different. Yet the infant is not facing a medical emergency; intersexuality is rarely if ever life-threatening. Rather, the psychosocial crisis of the parents and caregivers is medicalized.

Intersexuality is assumed to be a birth defect which can be corrected, outgrown and forgotten. The experiences of members of the intersex support groups indicate that intersexuality cannot be fixed; an intersex infant grows up to be an intersex adult. This hasn’t been explored, because intersex patients are almost invariably “lost to follow-up.” The abstract of a talk that will be given at this very conference by a doctor who treats intersex infants concedes that “the psychological issues surrounding genital reconstruction are inadequately understood.”

Part of the problem is that we were lost to follow-up, and there were reasons for that. But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America.

One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!

7:20 PM: Boston’s North End

Goddess, this is so sweet, so liberating! I was so reluctant a week ago, having my Jesus-in-Gethsemane experience, reluctant to accept — not an onus or responsibility but — to accept who I am. And here’s where the hard work really begins. I’m exhausted when I think of the road before us. But then, it’s nothing like the road behind us.

Max Beck, 1997.

#personal #actuallyintersex #intersex #intersex history #intersex pride #h slur #hwa #isna

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