#like it’s not particularly inspiring to be imagining all the possible hate comments | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katerinaaqu · 7 months ago

Text

Oh gosh girl!!!! I mean for starters how is it possible not to get inspired and second why are you always making my day with your amazing comments ad reviews?

Oh gosh thank you so much! Somehow I felt I wouldn't do him justice if I would sugar-cot him. Because no matter what words one can use for it, he still conquered a city and by his own words he and his men killed all the men of that city and shared the rest. And yeah that is unfortunately very common for people who lived so long at war. I mean heck people from world war ii fought for half the time Odysseus and his men did and many of them never managed to recover! I can only imagine the mess their heads were into! Oh man you are right this must be indeed the ost viceral of him I have written and I have written a lot there! Oh my!

Yeah in one way I would think that indeed there would be the need for provisions which was often the reason for piracy of this kind but yes it is an invasion no matter what words someone uses and yeah it was just people who were living their lives and in the end of the day they saw 12 war ships arriving at their doors much more on people they weren't particularly friendly with right after a bloody war. And yeah war is war regardless of sides... I am so glad you like it! Man the worst type of mix indeed!

Oh gosh thank you dear! I was trying to think how would this conquest be? What style would Odysseus use? And so I thought a mix between cunning and fight would be the best so I had to figure out a plan like this that fits! I am so glad you think it works! Gosh thanks dear! I thought the comparison would fit given how technically THEY are the attackers while the city is the victim here; a confused mass of people that didn't know what hit them! It would be indeed! Odysseus mentions no loss during the raid so agan I had to figure out how that would be achievable in a theoretically realistic way so yup! This is the way that I thought it would happen!

Oh my! YAY! I am so glad you caught that! I was aiming for this part to be the peak actually. I started the first part with him feeling his actions crush him but like an adrenaline addict, once he is given a dose of his drug again he goes under; his aim to return to a peaceful life, his childhood and past are no longer important; what is important is this thrill of battle and the bloodlust that takes over. But then the eyes remind him what the body forgets so there is again the contradictory emotion that strikes back and yes he is indeed an addict at that moment and addicts hate what they become as well! And yeah I thought he would be so lost for one second!

Oh my in one way indeed that is so true! In one way the one wants to assure the survival of his people and their return home and to his kingdom and technically protect his subjects, his men, from a risky passage without provisions but yes ironically he is destroying someone else and that king is protecting his home, his family, his land and his subjects from this attack. Indeed it almost seems like a damned if you do damned if you don't situation right? Would he had let the men live if the king had surrendered and begged for mecry? Perhaps but somehow that seems blury as well. Maybe in the end of the day it would be better for the Cicones to fight till their last breath instead.

Yes! I remember that Odysseus tends to "fight dirty" when cornered so I somehow wanted to show that side of his as well for no reason! Hahaha! So yeah I thought what would trigger it? And immediately I thought; his fear that he will die there in battle; maybe he is turning tired, he was fighting the waves all night and so he was now fighting all days. He was getting tired. Maybe he would collapse or maybe miscalculate. He wouldn't risk it! Thus pulling out some other weapons and "low blows" such as sand and hidden blades because to him it is about survival not honor at this point like at other cases. And yeah that last part for some reason dunno I thought he would want to say it! Somehow this burning sensation and wish to be recognized! YAY! YOU GOT IT!!!!! Have a cookie! Yeah I noticed that in his most vicceral moments Odysseus referrs to himself with the most common patronym rather than his tender "father of Telemachus" title. Like indeed he wants to keep his son out of his worst moments!

Yup! I wanted to mirror my other story "Guilt" when the Greeks were cheering for him for taking the city using the same title and somehow that connection is something he DOESN'T want to make and yet he knows he is technically doing it again. And man you have a way with words dear! I don't think I could have said it better!

Yes! Somehow I was interested as to how Maron was spared the slaughter thus giving the wine to Odysseus that ironically became his salvation from Polyphemus (I swear, Homer is the OG video game plot creator lol!) but yes if he were one of the rest of the Cicones he would definitely be gutted along with the others. Somehow Odysseus's piousness for the gods and priests saved Maron who also provided him a way out of another intriguing situation but yes the rest of the men still died no matter what someone says Oh gosh girl!!! I am so happy you think so because that was what I tried to show here! In one way Odysseus's feelings are genuine but he also knows that their actions were not innocent and potentially not just either! Despite the whole hospitality thing and yup! You definitely caught that! He knows he felt that wild pleasure of battle. He knows he is cursed with this and yet the situationis too complicated and yes he has a looooong way to go yet! Which ironically does seem to lead to his Hubris during the Polyphemus incident.

I have no idea why but I thought I should add that! A few seconds before he ordered the death of all the other men, a little bit before he killed the king of the city using a knife he probably wielded with that hand and now this man was kissing it gratfully for his own life being spared and his family somehow I thougt I just HAD to add that there! Awwww as always you have the most perceptive comments dear! Like for real I wanted that indeed to be the case here for one more time like in my other fic with the end of Trojan War because somehow the situations here are the same.

Oh gosh girl you are so kind!!!! Thank you so much! Oh boy right?! It does seem like a plan done by Caleb but executed by Diego doesn't it?! Man for real if these two had a kid that would be Odysseus I swear to God! Hahahahaha! Oh boy girl thank you so much for this incredible insight! It made my day! I have read it a million times already!!!!!!

Ismarus! Ismarus! (P2)

The second part Of my story! Continuation from Part 1 and kinda a late birthday gift for @h0bg0blin-meat Sorry I was late! As always the inspiration came from discussing complicated stories with my dear friend @artsofmetamoor

There wasn’t much to disrupt the silence of Ismarus and maybe that was why the tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife. It had been several hours since the moment they had refused to assist the Greeks out and now they seemed rather nervous. True they seemed like sailors and tired from a long trip but they were always veterans from Troy, a city that wasn’t taken before since Heracles and the look on that short man seemed alarming. It was as if he was much more than what met the eye. Something about him had been disturbing to the embassy. It seemed that his eyes had caused more than just a mere slaughter of a large city. The guards at the walls were always on the edge of their wits waiting.

“There is no sign of them anywhere” one of them said to the other in their dialect, “Maybe they got the message and left”

“Perhaps…”

The sound of leaves hustling was enough to make them jump. They didn’t know what was about to happen but they could feel it down their spines; all the way to the hairs in their napes that were now standing up in their worry. They were generally peaceful people. Their skills in battle were enough to keep invaders away from their area. And yet now that small person from another kingdom arrived there with a threat roaming over their heads like Apollo’s judgment.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“There!” The guard pointed at some bushes, “The sound came from there!”

As his partner gazed over the walls to see at the spring leaves of the thick bushes and failing to see anything suspicious; maybe except the fact that the bushes were a bit closer than what he remembered! Where his eyes playing tricks on him or…?

“Go back and report!” he urged, “There is a high chance they-…”

His voice was cut of when the whistle of an arrow and the terrifying sound of metal cutting through flesh chocked the words down his chest and a shaft went through his tender neck. He collapsed chocking in his own blood.

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” The other man yelled, “SOUND THE ALARM!”

No sooner had the words escaped his own lips and another arrow hit him to the shoulder, making him lose his footing and falling out of the walls inside the city’s perimeter. And then a storm of arrows fell from the skies. The Greeks jumped from behind the bushes and dozens of cords were pulled at the same time, singing like deadly birds.

“FIRE!” Odysseus ordered, voice roaring above them all

Flintstones cracked almost at the same time, sparks coming out of the friction and lighting arrowheads covered with cloth, sending a flaming rain upon the walls where the confused guards didn’t have the time even to gear up before hay next to them set aflame or their own clothes and hair setting on fire. Odysseus watched as flames and smoke rose.

“Give me that!” he ordered his squire grabbing the bow and the flaming arrow

Like a hunter who skillfully aims for the moving deer across the forest, Odysseus of Ithaca aimed and shot and the arrow pierced right through the wooden gate. He grasped upon a sling and span it, before throwing the material at the door. The small perfume bottle at the end of it which was now filled with a mixture of wine and oil, broke against the gate, sending wild flames to dance like Kaveiroi; Hephestus’s demonic helpers by the heath of his workshop. A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he watched the flames spark and consume the wood of the gate. His mind traveled back to their plans once more.

“How are we going to hit them?” Eurylochus asked, “They will throw stuff on us from the wall!”

“We shan’t get anywhere near the walls, Eurylochus” Odysseus replied in confidence

He took a branch and drew some circles at about shooting range of the city.

“We shall use vegetation as our cover. We will release the arrows like a storm before they have the time to shoot us. I believe we have plenty of hunting bows and arrows”

“Yeah” Eurylochus agreed, “At least a hundred bows and respective arrows”

“Good! We can use oil and wine as our assistance”

“Assistance for what?” Polites now asked

Odysseus eyed him. His eyes already sharp like the obsidian glass that is being forged under the merciless flames coming straight from the core of the earth.

“Fire, of course, Polites! We shall burn them down before they have the chance to aim! They will be waiting. They will be tensed! But if the plan works, we shall lose no men today!”

The defendants finally released some counter-attack, sending their own rain of arrows at them.

“DEFEEEENCE!” Odysseus roared

The shields rose over their heads, taking in dozens of arrows. One or two that got through and nicked a shoulder or a foot, caused some pained yelps. Odysseus didn’t have the luxury to look back. He prayed, though with all his heart that they would be fit to fight later. So far so good, the Much Cunning man thought. He raised his arm in the air closing his fist. Eurylochus saw the signal and blew a hunting horn. It was a long, monotone note but it pierced the air even above the screaming of the men at the lines of shooting. And it only took a couple of seconds before some more fire smoke emerged, this time from the other way of the city. The heads turned towards that direction. Odysseus this time almost grinned. Yes, according to plan!

“The spies reported a tunnel for the waterfront at the back, here!” Odysseus said pointing his stick at the other part of the square that represented the city on the sand

“What are you planning to do with it? Send people inside?”

“I could, but it is risky. The path is small and it can fit one man at a time without armor and I shall not send unarmored men in enemy territory. No, my plan is quite simple, really”

He placed his stick to the part of the front gate again.

“I and the main team shall launch the attack here. If the plan works they will be too distracted. While they are occupied with us, a small team shall run as fast as the wind can carry them to the passage…and on the signal they shall start a fire”

The men at the back passage were already lighting more intense flames at the hay and dry grass they had hastily gathered. As the team of watchmen arrived at the spot before they could launch a counter-attack they were taken down by the last small team of archers, lurking behind the main task force that started the arson.

Odysseus made a move with his fingers, cross-way, opening his fingers in opposite directions with suggestive meaning.

“Distraction, division…Disorientation!” he said self-complacently, triumphantly

His eyes scanned his generals as they seemed to be literally hanging from his every word.

“Derange!” the king of the Cephallinians added

Back at the present, Odysseus placed the helm better on top of his head. The red and blue plume adorning the top of his boar-tusk helmet, waved gracefully at the breeze. His hand clasped the leather stripes tighter.

“Wait! Wait for them to open the gates!”

His nerves were at the peak; his senses seemed to be heightened. Like an experienced hound seeing the stag drinking water from the waterfront and already feeling to its teeth the taste of warm blood and flesh; legs and paws ready for the deadly sprint, Odysseus was feeling every tiny muscle in his arms pulsating in anticipation. He knew he had but one chance. He couldn’t afford striking before the exact proper time!

“I still fail to see how you will get is in the city, Odysseus” Eurylochus pointed out, “You say we bombard the walls but how shall we get in?”

Odysseus took a gulp of wine, his lips almost curling in a cat-like expression.

“They will let us in, Eurylochus!”

“They will?!”

“They will have no choice. They have fire to their front, fire to their back and they know they have better chances to face us at the open field. They shall open the gates for us and when they do, we shall be ready!”

He placed his cup at the side and played a bit with a small piece of skin coming out of the base of his fingernail. He thought for a second before looking at his second in command.

“Do you think my chariot can be used?”

“It is damaged” Eurylochus admitted, “But I suppose we can fix it for a battle real quick”

“Good” Odysseus said biting that piece of skin apprehensively, “Because it is an important part of my plan. I shall need it and two of my strongest horses. I shall lead the attack inside”

“Odysseus, no!” one of the generals protested, “You must not take reckless decisions!”

“If I don’t, no one will” Odysseus retorted, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I will have you for cover. Send the order to fix my chariot!”

“Yes, sire!”

“The rest of you shall take position as agreed. If it works we shall charge through their defenses before their cavalry charges”

Horses were already plowing the sand with their hooves, as if their master’s nervousness and eagerness was being transferred to them. And Odysseus endured this bloodlust of battle that was making him restless, until he saw the gates opening slowly and he knew he had his chance!

“CHAAAAAAAAAARGE!” he ordered

His squire stirred the horses the exact moment the door opened and his chariot sped forward. The horses neighed and the sand rose in clouds as the squire forced the animals to drive the vehicle through the gates just on time for a couple of horses with their riders to come out. Odysseus raised his sword and cut one man right across the shoulder; blade cutting flesh and connections through the bones, blood oozing out of the wound as the rider fell to the ground. The second had no better luck for his hand was cut off from the base of his wrist and his horse’s legs crushed against the wheels of the war chariot. The animal screeched pitifully and fell onto the sand, taking the already wounded rider with him to the next world. The king of Ithaca drove the chariot triumphantly into the city, forcing his squire to turn the horses, facing the opponents arriving at the same time; one hand holding the leather stripes of the side and one holding a sword or a bronze spear. The army of his men coming behind him sprinting like ants attacking an enemy colony. The screams of the residents who didn’t have the time to evacuate sounded like a hellish music to their ears. The clanging of metal against metal and pained screams of the wounded was deafening. Blood splattered in every direction as the Cicones of Ismarus realized too late they had fallen into the trap of the Greek soldiers; soldiers molded, baked and hardened at war; men who now felt all the same battle lust and thirst for blood as they had when they invaded the city of Ilium, the holy ground of Troy, once more under the command and because of the plan of this very same man! This man that was now on top of his chariot, clearing the path for them, looking almost like god Ares himself who leads the troops of gods through the battle; his bronze and leather armor shining under the sun, the boar tusks in his helmet stained with blood and dust and yet showing the wild nature of war right there before their eyes; naked sword and spear at hand, bow and arrows waiting; Odysseus seemed at home. This familiarity of slaughter and war was the only thing they knew for almost a decade. For Odysseus too; the calmness of his childhood, the hunting parties in the forest, the quiet life among the quiet herding of the sheep and the goats in the plain; the change of season and the harvest of crops…all seemed forgotten. It was insignificant before this thrill of battle and conquest!

“Yes! Burn it down! Show the punishment of Zeus upon those who refuse his law!”

His eyes looked around. His men running around the city carrying torches and bronze. Fires were being set hither thither, screams were heard as helpless women and children were running out of their burning houses, coughing the sulphous smoke, some of them had covered their children with blankets, some were leading elders outside. They didn’t get to go far for many of them were grabbed by the hair by the bloodthirsty and now completely lost in battle soldiers and dragged out towards some other spot, crying or screaming, trying to hold onto whatever precious they had in hand; property or children.

“EURYLOCHUS!” Odysseus called his second in command closer, “Take the reins! Take over!”

He jumped out of his chariot rushing to assist some soldiers on foot.

“FIND THE KING! SIEZE THE CASTLE!” continued his orders on the way

His obsidian eyes scanned the massacre; men falling in the already bloody sand, women and children crying and running helplessly. One or two dragged behind corners. He had no idea what would happen beyond his optical field.

“No! No women and children! I said you shall not harm women and children!”

He slashed once more, feeling the blood splattering his already blood, painted face.

“MURDERER!”

And he slashed again…

“MONSTER!”

And again…everything almost seemed slowed down around him… It was as if his own breath was maximized to his ears…the neighing of horses and cries of the wounded… Some bloody lock of hair had escaped his helm and was resting against his brow, making the hairs almost touch his eye. It was bothering him…

“MONSTER! MONSTER! MONSTER!”

His breath hissing at the back of his throat; sweat running down his face, burning his eyes and salting his lips, transferring the metallic scent of blood alongside dust. His eyes seemed to be changing the scenery; it was night again; the streets were cobbled and not just covered in golden sand and dust; women and children were not tattooed or have their locks free running about but wore good veils and long skirts; women and children crying on top of their husbands or screaming at corners as soldiers would have their way with them in their lust for battle and thrill. He blinked repeatedly to bring the current image to his head instead. No, he wouldn’t think about Troy! Not now! However, was that image so different, really? He mechanically closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of dust and blood and fire. Suddenly all sounds were blocked; only the whistling in his ears was echoing and some distant cries coming straight out of the haunting past.

“NOOOO!”

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

“ODYSSEUS! YOU SPAWN OF THIEVES AND RAGGED SCHEMER!”

“ODYSSEUS! Odysseus…”

“ODYSSEUS!”

He gasped as the familiar voice of Polites reached his ears and just on time for his senses to heighten once again and blocking just on time a Ciconian sword a few inches away from his face. His counter attack was as quick as the man had his throat gushed from side to side, revealing the tendons and vocal chords. He choked on his own blood and fell. Odysseus needed a second to calm his heart.

“Thanks” he said to Polites half-heartedly

His eyes looked up at the top of the walls to see a man running accompanied by two others. He had seen that man before! He was with the embassy that met them. So this man was their king after all! His lips formed a smirk. He spat the bitter taste of blood and sand off his mouth.

“Cover me, Polites!” he ordered running up the stairs

His feet were getting almost sinking in the bloody sand as he ran upstairs. The arrows that whistled by his side were music to his ears as one of the king’s guards fell. The other bravely charged towards Odysseus but his sword was deflected. Odysseus pulled the man by the arm and threw him down the stairs. As he approached the top, breathing heavily, the man eyed him with his brown eyes and pulled his own sword. Odysseus moved his head a bit as if he was approving the man’s persistence. And then he charged. The two swords clang with each other. He was strong, Odysseus noticed, and fierce in his attacks. He gathered the sword and attacked again and then again, to be met with a counter attack. His opponent nicked his arm. He hissed.

“Shit!”

The attack came again but this time he was ready. Like two lions ready to tear each other apart over the best part of a carcass, the two kings were fighting for the price of the city and its treasures. Odysseus span once more, hitting the man’s stomach with his elbow. The stunned king turned back and chocked as he tried to counter his next attack. He also earned himself a gush to his arm.

“Surrender!” Odysseus demanded

The man spat something in his dialect, eyeing Odysseus with this kind of look that if it were lightning, Odysseus would have been stricken dead by now.

“I suppose this means ‘never’!” he smirked

He attacked again and again. The man was exhausted even if he was at least five years younger. Odysseus knew he wouldn’t go forever. His own muscles suffering from a day’s battle and from the light scratches he took upon during the battle.

“No! I shall not die here! This is not my destiny! My home is waiting! Not here! Not like this!”

He kicked the sand under his feet; some went to his opponent’s face. In that moment he stroke with his sword, piercing the flesh of his opponent’s stomach. Unfortunately for him it wasn’t deep enough. The man stepped back, holding his wounded stomach. He looked around, the destruction of his city that seemed to be already falling even if the day was not even over yet. He looked again at his opponent who so simply had managed to take his Ismarus with just a handful of men. He knew he was dying. He had realized his city was lost now.

“Who…are…you…?” he gasped

Odysseus rushed forward, like a wolf towards the wounded doe that was now making her last stand. His sword met the last weak resistance from his opponent. Fast like a cat he removed the small knife he kept in his armband and with one swift move he sank it to the side of his opponent’s neck. The king of the Cicones chocked as his own blood filled his mouth and lungs. He twitched and tried desperately to breathe. Odysseus leaned to his ear.

“I am Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laërtes, the conqueror of the holy city of Troy!”

The man’s eyes widened in horror and realization as the shadow of death was already giving them a glassy appearance.

“The…S-Sacker…of…Cities…” he finally rasped out

And then the shadow of death passed over his face as he collapsed and never moved again. Odysseus sighed towards the heavens. The day was coming to an end; the sun was getting lost towards the horizon. He heard cries of triumph coming from down below. He looked down and saw that the city was taken over. The few men that were left alive, they were forced to throw their weapons; women and children were being led out towards the central square.

“Yet another city…fell in less than one night… Gods, it is so easy…feels so natural… Gods…war is inside me! The cries of all I destroyed are crying inside my head! The Sacker of Cities… Athena…patroness of war and wisdom, Pallas Athena… Why was this seed planted inside me…? Why me…?”

He ran his hand over his face, smearing some of the blood still on it. He looked down as the cries of triumph had increased now. He could hear them now form a rhythm once more…

“ALL HEIL FOR ODYSSEUS!”

“HOORAY!”

“SACKER OF CITIES!”

Odysseus closed his eyes and leaned back up towards the heavens. His sword fell from his hand and the knife that had taken the life of his opponent was long forgotten.

Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities!

He inspected the area. The fires were still burning around but they were under control. At least no one seemed to be seriously hurt apart from some minor injuries and cuts that were taken care of very soon. His own minor cuts were barely of need of bandage. He felt exhausted and he wasn’t sure the battle was at fault. However he tried his best not to let anything show. Him feeling sorry for himself wouldn’t change a thing and in the end of the day they had chosen this. In a way they felt like they had to although he knew it was more the call for war inside them rather than the hunger in their bellies, which was a reason enough and yet…

“Odysseus! Look!”

The tired king followed the sound of Eurylochus’s voice as he led him to the granary. It was forcefully opened with axes and swords and revealed the treasure inside; grain, wine, dried meats and many, many more they could use for their trip just like as they had predicted. There were also cattle that were led to the square to be included to their sacrifices or offerings or prices and quite a few sheep and goats too.

“Look at all this food! We’re saved! By gods you did it!”

“Yeah…” Odysseus said absentmindedly

“And so many riches! Look!” Polites added, showing him some pieces of metal, weapons and jewelry, “This city was loaded with goods!”

Odysseus forced a small smile to his lips.

“Bring them all out” he ordered, “They shall be placed in the lottery to be shared with everyone. Foods and drinks shall be loaded to the ships”

“Do you want to choose, first?”

Odysseus stopped. He felt like he was re-living the conversation back at Troy when he was asked to take the pick of the spoils. Strange how often he was getting that question!

“No, Polites” he said, “We shall all take our share fair and square. That is the will of Zeus’s justice…”

Back at the square the few remaining men were tied up with secure ropes and brought kneeling before their conquerors. Odysseus walked over them, counting.

“Are they all that are left?” he asked

“We believe so”

“You…believe so?” Odysseus echoed, suddenly eyes darkening, “You mean you are not certain?”

“There was a huge battle, Odysseus! You cannot expect us to know for sure if anyone escaped or not…”

He had to admit that his general was right. But this scenario was possibly what he feared all along.

“And this was no battle…it was a slaughter! Just like Troy…”

Although he had to admit at least the Cicones were given the chance to fight back. It wasn’t like they attacked at night while everyone slept, right? Right? He eyed at the men who glared daggers at him.

“Kill them” he ordered calmly

The voice he made was so calm he was surprised. He hardly batted an eye when his men slashed the throats of the surviving warriors and watched the light of life escaping from their eyes; their last breath drawn out of their lips.

“How easily do men die! How easy it seems to plunder cities and yet…plunder and steal lives is even easier… Cursed war! Cursed Troy! You made a monster out of us all! This was not supposed to be our fate! We didn’t deserve this!”

The sound of begging came to his ears. And he heard the common Greek. That drew his attention as his men were dragging a man dressed in luxurious robes. There was no doubt on his identity. His face turned pale.

“UNHAND THIS MAN!” he roared the order, “This man is a priest! He shall not be touched!”

His men got alarmed by his voice and let the man go. The man seemed frightened. His beard splattered with blood and dust. His robes seemed tattered and half-torn. He was obviously dragged out of the temple violently. Odysseus felt his blood boil! He hoped his battle lust men hadn’t done so when the man sought sanctuary. That would be the end of them! He ran to help the priest stand. His hair was a rare copper sheen. His long curly beard was of even brighter color still. His eyes had the sheen of hazel. He seemed no over than 40 years of age. Maybe younger.

“Are you alright?” Odysseus asked

“Thank you…” the priest mumbled, standing back to his feet, “I am fine”

“You speak our language”

“Yes” the priest spoke, “I had the honor of being taught by my teachers when I was an acolyte to the grace of the Silver Shafted!”

“Rest assured, your safety is guaranteed. No one shall touch you while I am in command! Who are you? What is your name? What is your line?”

“I am called Maron, my lord. Euanthes is the name of the man who claims my heritage. I have the honor of claiming both the Greek and the Thracian blood and language inside me”

“Maron of noble birth” Odysseus said officially, “You have my word that you shall be guaranteed your life. Flee Ismarus while you can. Forgive me for the destruction we caused. Trust me though your lords and masters had it coming. We arrived at their doors seeking hospitality and they refused. This blood shall fall on them”

He was lying to himself and he knew it. Perhaps part of him believed what he said. However not all of it. The lust for blood he felt before was no coincidence.

“I beg of you, my lord, can my family also go through? I have a wife, sons and daughters! Please be merciful and allow them also flee! In the name of Apollo I beseech you!”

Odysseus smiled reassuringly.

“You have my word” he promised, “Rest assured. Take all your kin and everything you can carry and go. No one shall harm you. No one shall take a single hair of your heads while you do so”

Maron, son of Euanthes bowed before the king of Ithaca and grabbed his blood-painted hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. Odysseus shivered. Such gratefulness coming from a man who had the chance to save his life and his family!

“He kisses the hand of the man who killed his masters! Just like king Priam kissed the hand of the man who killed his son! Is there hope then? For our souls in Hades? Or maybe we are doomed like Achilles who fell by the arrow of the weakest man in Troy?”

“Blessed you be, my lord!” Maron whispered, “May Apollo guide you with his light! May he grand you health and wisdom!”

Odysseus drew his hand back. Part of him wanted to scream for this man to realize whom he had before him; the butcher of Troy! The man who chose to fight by trickery and chose to take the holy city in one night.

“Enough, my friend…enough…” he whispered, “Just go…you are free”

“Please…let me give you a gift for your mercy, my lord…”

He dragged the astounded king by the arm, like a child taking his father to see his achievement. Maron led him to the temple that still smoked. His family was gathering everything they could. Maron took him to the cellar and presented him with a large sealed vase.

“Please accept this godly wine from me, my lord” Maron said, “It is a blessed, black-red sweet beverage for you and your kin. But be careful, for it is very special. One cup of this, needs to be watered at least 20 times before it is drinkable. Never forget it!”

Odysseus smiled once more. Such a valuable gift! Maron was being extremely generous with them. Somehow this kindness and response to mercy reminded him the small peace of mind he got when Menelaus gave him some praise despite the fact that the city of Troy was cussing his name to the grave. He caressed the large ceramic and then turned to the priest.

“I am beyond grateful for your gesture” he said, “I shall accept your godly gift and I shall heed your words to my heart, I promise”

Maron nodded. He then took his veil, covered his face and then took his family, placed them all to their cart and slowly left the city. Odysseus had made sure no one would be getting in their way. He watched the priest go. He knew he would never see him again. And yet his heart felt a bit lighter. At least some part of him was still human…

***

A very VERY special thanks to my commenters from my previous part @cjbolan @dionysism @freetyphoonfire @tumblingghosts @theyugiohfanartistwritersblog

So this is the actual attack of Ismarus! Hahaha! Sorry if my descriptions are all over the place here! You see I wasn't sure what kind of tecnique Odysseus might use since he doesn't claim he gets any sort of loss during the charge. So yup! Here's me trying to imagine how an "Odysseus style plunder" might look like! Hahaha!

The inserting flashbacks was a thing inspired heavily from movies such as "The A Team"

The part of where you read "Odysseus you spawn of theives..." etc was of course a wink to my fanfiction Guilt Part 2 The part where Odysseus speaks about his heart feeling lighter and remembering Menelaus was also a wink to my fanfiction's third part Guilt Part 3

The cries of "Murderer" and "monster" were actually a wink to a fic I haven't read yet and to give you a light spoiler is again a hint to the cries of Hecuba mourning for the loss of her children, Polyxena in particular.

The knife in his armband was a wink to my tiny story Philoctetes Inspirations 2

Once more inspired by music by Kostas Kapnisis this time the one called "Μάχη" ("Battle")

youtube

as well as the main theme of the movie aka the titles sequence music:

youtube

I loved the heroic theme being inserted by tragic music and some violent drums. Seems so fitting for this!

Originally I wanted to finish this second part with Odysseus warning his men on leaving immediately and sharing the spoils but I thought it would be more impactful to finish it at the mercy shown upon Maron and his family instead.

I will certainly write a 3rd part for this and I am not sure if I will need a Part 4 too! Hahaha! I will need to see how big part 3 will become.

As before I wanna thank a few accounts that honored me before with insights comments reblogs and ideas (again terribly sorry if I forget anyone!)

@loco-bird @smokey07 @adrift-in-thyme @superkooku @marieisnothere12 @dilutedh2so4 @ditoob @tunguszka20 @ilov3b00kss0much @fangirlofallthefanthings @cr4zy-cycl0n3 @shafeeyaart @hermesmoly @insomniphic @blueflipflops @venomspecs @styberusartz @freetyphoonglitter @simugeuge

#odysseus #the oddyssey #inspiration for rebels

69 notes · View notes

bonefall · 2 years ago

Note

Out of curiosity, what would a Warrior Cats human au be like?

I’ve seen many interpretations of it and the most common one seems to be set in the past with the clans having a bit of a tribe-like life style. So far these are the legible ones. I can think of.

1. They are set as tribe-like groups in the past. Evidence: their “clan�� ways of life, naming ceremonies and religion. Also, hunting, group / clan importance and etc.

2. They are set as modern humans in 1900s England. Evidence: location of clans and timeline.

3. They are set in England, around the 1500s. Evidence: the extreme importance of religion, xenophobic beliefs, superiority complex, battles and the occasional attempt to force outsiders to accept their ways of life as “superior”. That and Pinestar’s crusade could be an attempt at colonialism.

My absolute favorite take on a Warrior Cats Anthro-type AU is the stuff done by FortunataFox over on Furaffinity/Twitter/DA. She's heavily inspired by Redwall (a series I have not read) and her style reminds me a lot of Don Bluth's work, particularly in Secret of NIMH.

I can't recommend checking that out enough; her work is very inspiring to all of my takes on Warrior Cats, even non-anthro types.

As a side note I also just... don't like looking at human faces very much? Nor do I like drawing them or thinking about them. So Anonnie, I gotta be honest with you, I probably would not make a "Human" AU fdgfsdgdf You're gonna get anthro from me

If I did an anthro AU, it would be soft fantasy. A couple of small magic powers, some unique animal species. It would also look a lot more like manoralism than decentralized 'tribal' societies... though I'm iffy on the idea of really calling them 'tribe-like' because the phrase gets my goat--

Lemmie comment point-by-point

Tribe-Like Society" is a phrase that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The Zulu Kingdom and the Haudenosaunee Confederacy couldn't possibly be more different from a social perspective, yet they're both described as "tribal societies" because Colonialism... ANYWAY, not trying to get too into it, it's a really vague phrase that invokes stereotypes I don't hate the word Tribe itself but there is no 'tribe-like society', you get me? Indigenous societies are just as (if not more) varied than colonial ones but they tend to get boiled down to "tribe-like society". The term inherently crunches social groups down to an aesthetic-- something I try to avoid in worldbuilding. I heavily consider the territory and how that would shape their lives, then add a very strong cultural value for land stewardship, and work outwards from there, instead of starting with 'nature connection' and working backwards. Does that make any sense?

2. 1900s England Nah, I wouldn't be fond of that one. That would mean these cats have Capitalism, and I just can't imagine the Clans existing the way they currently do if they were under that economic system... at least, not the way that I really enjoy the Clans.

I like reading stuff where the fandom draws out their cultural practices, and the bonds and politics between the cats in the social groups. It would be a very different story if it was just post-industrial England, and there were like... factories, roads, work hours, employers, and... OH GOD what the HELL would the World Wars be for Warrior Humans??

ABORT MISSION BACKSPACE BACKSPACE BACKSPACE

3. 1500s England

I think this would also be a bit too far ahead. The absolute latest time period I'd look at for inspiration is Early Medieval England (5th to 11th centuries). The Clans are four/five distinct fiefdoms without a king that unites them, a city-state at the highest possible population.

When there isn't emphasis on the different groups, it stops feeling like Warriors to me, you know?

(side note; Crusade was the closest word I could find for Oakstar's campaigns, a pointless religious war of appeasement, they aren't exactly like the actual crusades which started in the late 11th century. After all-- I just look at history as inspiration, not to copy or make 1:1 recreations)

#This became a lot more of a meta-talk than anything else #Feel free to ask me again about what I would do for an anthro AU specifically #This got a bit long so I wrapped it up #Anthro AU

12 notes · View notes

hanatiny · 4 years ago

Text

Perfect Illusion

a/n: this fic is inspired by this post (although I modified the idea a bit)! for those interested, I even made a spotify playlist to hopefully enhance the experience~

pairing: royal guard!San x royal guard/spy!f!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2113

warnings: royal AU, weapons (knives and daggers), brief mention of infidelity (which I do not condone), swearing, teasing, dry humping, hair pulling, name-calling (they keep insulting each other... oops), enemies with benefits, implied enemies to lovers (kind of), slight knife kink, implied pain kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, no clear dom/sub roles

-----

Despite excelling at undercover work, you weren’t known be incredibly ‘out there’ in the way you executed your tasks, so this particular mission you had been given must have been the one you disliked the most as of now, not to mention that you despised the tactic of seduction.

You did your best to attract as little attention as possible in order to carry out your information gathering in peace. Although it seemed that in doing so, you had become a little too suspicious for one of the guards. You heaved a sigh, meeting his eyes while most of his face remained covered by the hood and the mask he wore to not look like the odd one out at the royal masquerade event. He nudged his head towards a nearby balcony after asking for one of his fellow guards to watch his spot, signalling you to follow.

Albeit slowly, you did what was asked of you - your beliefs were much too deeply rooted in obedience not to. Once outside, the guard closed and locked the door behind you. Shrugging off his hood, he took off his mask while you did the same so the two of you were equally bare to each other.

“San?!” “Y/n?!” You both gasped aloud in equal shock and surprise, slapping a hand over each other’s mouths to prevent anyone from hearing how casually you spoke with each other.

Prying your hand away from his face, although still holding it in his own, San quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at you, “What, pray tell, are you doing here at this party wearing that?”

Your voice was teasing as you spoke and he gestured towards the black dress you were wearing, “Oh, this old thing~?” He rolled his eyes at your playful tone but allowed you to continue, “As much as I didn’t want to, His Highness requested me to keep my eyes and ears open for anything or anyone suspicious... and had the bright idea of having me use seduction to get the job done.”

Despite knowing how much you hated the technique in question, San thought it fun to tease and rile you up about it, “Do I classify as suspicious then? Cause you’ve definitely caught my interest and seduced me...~”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing him and pulling him close by the tie he was wearing before whispering in his ear, “With how flirty you’re being, definitely. I might have to arrest you now, sunshine~ But if you play your cards right, I might let you fuck me, pretty boy.”

It was your turn to cock an eyebrow when San nonchalantly turned the situation around on you and pinned you against the wall roughly, both of your wrists above your head in one of his own while an almost bored grin danced across on your face at the act. “That all you got~?”

“Not at all, sweetheart...~” “Show me then,” you challenged without hesitation, hooking one of your legs around his hip to draw his body closer and flush against yours, “show me what you can do, unless you want to admit that a woman could dom you~”

Bullseye. You hit him right in his sore spot, knowing him to be much too competitive to let such a cheeky comment slide. You saw something shift in his eyes, something dark, and you knew you had him right then and there, “You asked for it... don’t complain if you limp afterwards.”

“Wanna bet~?” San effectively shut you up by melding his plush lips to yours, your hands tugging greedily at his already messy hair while the grinding of your hips against his coaxed a soft moan from his lips.

“You really don’t intend to make it easy for me do you, little vixen...” He whispered against your lips, his voice low and raspy as he did so, causing you to give him a casual shrug, “You know me, I always want to be the one who comes out on top. Whether that is in the physical sense or not couldn’t matter any less to me, frankly.”

San huffed softly, he knew you were competitive but so was here. However, the difference between the two of you was that you were willing to play dirty to get what you want.

As such, you couldn’t prevent a slight smirk from tugging at your lips when his breath hitched audibly after he pushed the hem of your dress up to your hips and spotted the daggers strapped to one of your thighs. “Staring longer won’t make the image imprint itself in your mind any faster. And in case you haven’t noticed with how much you want my daggers on your body, I’m worked up and hereby telling you to hurry up and fuck me. Right here, right now.”

“Getting feisty and demanding, are we? Two can play that game, Y/n...~” Reaching into the inside of his jacket, San pulled out a knife and held it to your throat while the cocky smirk never left your face, “Are you just gonna keep threatening me with a good time so that I’ll walk right back in there and tell everyone you’re my bitch, or are you actually gonna do something about that obvious boner in your pants?”

San’s eyebrow twitched at your audacity, the discovery of the fact that you had foregone underwear tonight not helping his dwindling patience in the slightest, “Pathetic how desperate you are for my cock, you minx. Needing to cover it up with such a tough girl act...”

He trailed off, watching you closely as he pocketed his knife and used his now unoccupied hand to quickly unfasten his pants and free his aching length from its confines. He stroked himself a few times, the seconds passing torturously slowly in your eyes as you licked your lips in anticipation before throwing your head back against the wall with a strangled gasp when he fully inserted himself inside of you without warning.

“You son of a-” “Shush doll, don’t want anyone to hear what we’re doing out here do you~?” You huffed as he interrupted you, pretending to think for a moment before shaking your head with a smile, “I actually do, imagine the surprise when they’d hear that two of the royal guards are all over each other...~”

San’s eyes darkened once more before narrowing them at you, “You asked for it, then... Be prepared to scream.”

“Such big words from the man who’d let me spit in his mouth~” You weren’t having it though, only mewling and moaning softly while San repeatedly snapped his hips into yours. His pace was rough and quick, eager to get both you and himself off, “Won’t even, fuck- won’t even scream for me... am I not fucking you hard enough?”

“Mmh... nope~!” You replied with a toothy grin, gasping sharply when San thrusted inside of you particularly harshly. “That better?” “Much~” He continued to move at the harsh pace he had just set, his breath hitching when his hand accidentally brushed against the leather garter still fixed securely around your thigh.

He felt himself twitch violently when you spoke through low pants, his thrusts stuttering, “Wouldn’t you love to have me trail one of those daggers over your sensitive skin, sunshine? Perhaps even pierce it a little here and there to show who you belong to~?”

Those last words came out unintentionally but you didn’t feel the need to correct yourself, considering that your possessiveness appeared to be the last straw for San judging by the warmth that filled you as he came, your own orgasm washing over you shortly after. Once you had both caught your breath, he carefully pulled out of you and helped you straighten out your dress after doing the same to his own clothes.

You implying that he was yours was undoubtedly a matter to be discussed, but for now, you two had a masquerade to return to. As such, San handed your mask back to you after having previously stored it in one of his jacket pockets. You both secured your masks back on your faces so that your identities were concealed once more, although San decided to not pull his hood back up.

He unlocked the balcony door before turning to you with a teasing albeit charming smile, holding his hand out for you to take, “Will you let me have this dance, m’lady~?”

You found it amusing how quickly he could switch back to his professional persona, placing your hand in his own regardless, “It’d be my pleasure~”

He led you back inside of the large, well-lit ballroom where no one was any the wiser of what had transpired mere minutes ago, your dress swaying slightly while you danced with San, a small grin painted on your features.

You ended up getting to bed incredibly late, almost stumbling out of it the next morning before quickly making yourself presentable after being requested in the throne room by His Highness himself, wondering what it could possibly be about.

You ran into San on the way there, finding out that he had been called to see the prince as well. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, you weren’t particularly surprised to find it empty besides the presences of you, your companion and Yeosang, who had placed his crown on a pedestal near himself.

Letting his emotionless facade crack a bit, he gave a small smile when he saw the two of you kneel before him as it was custom for the subordinates or the royal family.

“Those who want to wear the crown need to prove they are able to bear its weight.”

Yeosang’s voice rang out through the room, causing you and San to look at each other questioningly and then back up at him in confusion. The older male had never been more glad to not have any other of his court officials or guards besides the two of you inside of his throne room, relieved that he could be blunt about his message.

“I’m sure you both are aware of how I came to be where I am presently, yes?” You both nodded in response. “Then you know my mother was not a true queen and slept her way to the throne. Hell, I’m even a bastard child - her husband was not my father. In short... she was a whore.”

San gasped quietly next to you in surprise at the word choice, causing you to nudge him gently to remind him to focus and listen.

“I don’t want to keep the two of you here any longer than necessary,” the unrightful prince leaned forward, his weight still resting on the arm he had previously propped himself up on, “My coronation is set to be held eleven days from now. Whichever of you comes up with the better plan to cover up my ‘coincidental’ disappearance by then gets to claim the throne.”

It was a tempting offer, that much you had to admit, but it sounded almost too good to actually be true.

“Your Highness-” “Please drop the formalities Y/n, you’ve known me since I was a little child.” The young man in question corrected softly as you cleared your throat with an understanding nod, “Are you sure this will work out as you intend it to? I’m not sure anyone would believe one of your royal guards to be allowed to inherit the crown just like that...”

“Y/n. Surely you’ve noticed how desperate the people are for a ruler who stands with them, even with all the time you spend working? They’ll accept just about anyone. As long as neither of you exposes the truth about any part of my family... do we have a deal?”

San looked at you and met your eyes, lingering for a few beats before getting up from his knees with you following suit as you looked up at the prince and spoke in unison, always up for a challenge - especially if it just so happened to come with a high reward like this one did, “We have a deal.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now off you two go, there is work to be done~” Yeosang hummed, you and your ‘companion’ bowing respectfully and nodding before turning on your respective heels.

San pulled his hood back over his head and glanced at you with a smug grin that you happily mirrored, both of you making a run for it out of the throne room.

After all, it was only a matter of time and of who created the most perfect illusion, aware that only one of you would come out on top.

----- Taglist (tell me if you wanna be added):

@atinykitty @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @twancingyunhoe @vocalyunho @yunhoiseyecandy

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet

#8makes1teamnet #ateez royal au #royal au #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #san smut #ateez san smut #me coming out of my figurative writing cave with this: hi did u miss me #hanatiny writes

221 notes · View notes

mugunghwc · 2 years ago

Text

“Ah, then I better call you next time,” he concluded, as he would hate to make a fool of himself in front of the others, considering he should know, when she was working or not - had the time. “I like surprising you tho,” Jiro huffed and looked slightly displeased at the fact, or he needed her schedule but then again, he doubted he could visit her overly often. Truly, in things visiting, he could never win. First her police friend, now her work.

Jiro smiled, assuming she was doing it extra at this point. He probably would have reached out to squish her cheeks but he sat a bit too comfortably for that, well the kind of comfort a table with a hard edge could offer. “Ah, I hope you made sure to show it to everyone.” He does not recall seeing anything by the other workers, if they were even married or the like in the first place. A good chunk looked actually rather pretty, much to the superior’s joy - possibly. “Who? Ah… her father?” That sparked his interest, wondering what his possible position was here and it made him wonder, if he will possibly regret handling Fang like this but Rei had not mentioned any difference in her workplace. “Hm? No, not that I am aware of…” And leaned his head down on hers but only for a moment, too uncomfortable after all. “Why?”

she’d always feel a bit bad about reminding him of such things, especially after expressing his liking to giving her a pleasant surprise. it made her feel as if she was ruining it, but she also didn’t want to inconvenience him either—knowing how busy he could be, there would be some guilt if he just happened to waste his time because of her, even if she wouldn’t be technically at fault. “i like seeing you unexpectedly, but...” her strained smile said it all. there was just too much risk of missing each other, or worse: having someone else get in the way, who may not approve of them.

his comment made her chuckle, finding it curious that was his immediate thought. “well... quite a few people noticed.” & as of now, she still struggled to come to terms with it—feeling silly over the prospect of bragging about it, when surely plenty of questions would come. plenty that she wouldn’t know how to answer, nor want. his interest prompted a nod from her ; hands reaching to hold his while maintaining eye contact. “he’s friends with the vice chair of the company... that’s what i meant when i said i met her through work.” rei explained, & played with his fingers as a distraction ; looking just a tad confused over his confusion at first. “hm? oh, well... since you said they were quite noisy... i was wondering if someone said anything.” it wouldn’t surprise her, but as far as colleagues went, she wasn’t particularly close with any of them, to get too personal all of a sudden. unless, there was seriously nothing else to talk about—acting all surprised when she finally received a visit at her office, that wasn’t from idachi. the thought put her slightly on end ; halting her movement with his fingers & holding onto his hand still for a few seconds, until letting go.

her head turned in his direction once his was lifted from resting atop of hers, looking up with a smile. “how come you came here?” she wondered, briefly eyeing the box of bonbons on the desk & trying to imagine what inspired him to buy them. “you can have another if you want. i doubt i will be able to finish them all by myself.”

#badheart #.ic / way too many people tryna take the crown — npc #verse 01. theory of beauty / main

29 notes · View notes

femalepope · 4 years ago

Note

Would love to know your thoughts on the rutger bregman book when you finish it!!!

dearest merle! it took me months to answer this ask - something i'm ashamed of - but i finally got around to finishing the book today.

the below is a condensed version of the ten pages of notes i took while reading it, which are rather chaotic and repetitive at points - but in my defence, bregman repeated his own arguments too.

one of the main arguments that bregman makes is that "evil" or "immorality" - which we'll define as causing unnecessary harm - are rarely caused by the individual, but rather the society they live in. i agree - nothing exists in a vacuum. however, society, as a nebulous concept, isn't imposed on us by some imperceptible power - it is crafted by people. people in society have different levels of power, and the harm they can cause to others is directly proportional to said power - but be it on a micro or macro scale, our actions have an impact on others and while they are influenced by the society we live in, we must nonetheless strive to minimise the harm we cause - and few of us do.

bregman illustrates many of his arguments with heartwarming stories about people coming together in times of crisis - take, for example, natural disasters - and overcoming adversity, selflessly looking out for their neighbours. but crisis very often leads to the creation of divisions, an us vs them mentality, and a complete disregard for the safety of others. the current pandemic is a prime example - see the widening of class differences, the rise in racist hate crimes, and people refusing to take safety precautions because they are inconvenient to them.

another argument repeated quite often throughout the book is the fact that media cherry-picks the most sensationalistic and senseless acts of death and despair, because human suffering is simply more interesting that the mundane - people talking to friends, creating art, laughing and learning. again, i agree with him - many of the more tabloid-adjacent news outlets would have you believe that the everyday norm is dismembered heiresses being found on riverbeds and charming, precocious children being held for ransom in tiny basements. the news doesn't often focus on the mundane - but the mundane isn't just love and work and friendship and boredom and chores, it is also, for billions of people around the world, sexual violence, familial abuse, workplace and housing discrimination, etc. these things aren't sensationalistic either - they're frightfully common, frightfully boring, and thus, they're rarely reported on.

throughout his book, bregman mentions that when he told people what he was working on, they approached the idea that humans are good with a large dose of cynicism, simply because we are raised to believe humans are selfish (which isn't the case worldwide, not all cultures are individualistic). they pick the easier choice - accepting the image of the world and their fellow humans that they are presented with at face value. i'd argue that it is the tendency of humans to pick the easier choice, to obey, to avoid challenging their worldview that leads to - for a lack of better term - immorality (see definition in point 1).

often, when bregman presents his feel good stories about people cooperating in adversity, he also mentions troubling details that, again, show undue harm being done. one of the examples he used were six boys from tonga, aged 13 to 16, who were shipwrecked on an island, and instead of descending into a "lord of the flies" style madness, they built their small community on the basis of communication and cooperation, never resorting to violence, and acting mature beyond their years. after a year spent on the island, they were rescued - and promptly arrested, an event which was probably racially motivated. and the reason they were shipwrecked in the first place was attempting to flee their school, where, according to their reports, they were neglected.

bregman contrasted the example of the boys forming a peaceful society on a small island with the chaos that always ensues when adults in reality shows are put in similar situations. the contestants are pitted against each other by the show runners, who seek to frustrate them and make them lose control for the amusement of the audience. whenever contestants try to cooperate, form a mutually beneficial society for a short while - a radical idea - they are punished. "goodness" - i.e. harm reduction - and radical thought being punished just don't seem like particularly helpful examples for the "humans are inherently good" thesis

bregman seems to be a big fan of primitivism, constantly citing civilisation as a source of harm - a position i'm always sceptical about, because personally i love vaccines and dental care, but i know this is a knee-jerk reaction and bregman isn't plotting a return to a land without dentists. but what i do take ire at is the idea that humans are somehow "corrupt" versions of their natural selves and that our lives have grown too complicated, and only a return to "primitive" society can return us to the aforementioned natural selves.

tied to the previous point - his arguments remind me of the "noble savage"'... archetype? he seems to paint a picture of "primitive" indigenous people as role models for those "corrupted" by civilisation, who in turn must be saved by a return to their "purer" selves, instead of individuals with flaws and agency.

speaking on indigenous populations - bregman also invokes the inhabitants of the easter islands. for a long time, the world at large believed that a hundred years or so before colonization, the islanders effectively perpetrated a genocide, killing off a large proportion of their population - a claim which was later disproven. yay! humans can live in peaceful societies without committing genocide, and thus, are not inherently evil! disregarding the fact that european colonists later massacred a large part of the islands population, and sold most of the survivors into slavery?

i was very excited for one of the chapters, entitled "after auchschwitz". i was interested how bregman would reconcile his argument with the tragedies of the twentieth century - the holocaust, but also genocide, and to a lesser extent war in general.

(this chapter, i might add, was preceded by a quote by anne frank - you know the one, about the inherent goodness of people. i was hoping that bregman would comment on the fact that anne wrote the quote before she and her family were sent to a concentration camp)

so you can imagine my surprise when the chapter was not, in fact, about concentration camps or genocide. but rather about. unethical 70s sociological experiments.

no really! a chapter titled "after auchschwitz" was, in fact, primarily about the stanford prison experiment. an experiment that was, granted, inspired by concentration camps, but still. it's misleading to invoke "real", large scale violence, and focus instead on "simulated", small scale violence.

we all know that the stanford prison experiment was, as far as experiments go, rubbish to legendary degrees. it doesn't prove anything - but it does, perhaps, show that people under large psychological duress are capable of evil, even when they themselves are not "evil".

it is, i'd argue, the human tendency to obey authority and especially to conform to societies standards that poses the largest danger. disobedience is man's original virtue and whatnot.

and when he does briefly refer to concentration camps, bregman treats them like a very 1940s phenomenon, disregarding the fact that they have been around for much longer and still exist today.

in cases like that one experiment with electric shocks. you know the one. do not, perhaps, show an innate tendency to violence, but rather people succumbing to pressure. but history is full of unprovoked instances of violence, of pogroms and lynchings. there is usually an instigator, yes, but judging from reports, people in the right mindset don't need much persuading to butcher other people.

also re: electric shock experiment - those who thought they gave the assistant lethal shocks showed extreme guilt and some even cried but like... so what? what use is a conscience if it doesn't stop you from, to your knowledge, killing someone? are your feelings really more important than your actions?

he doesn't say this, but a lot of the arguments he presents do seem to boil down to "people aren't evil, they're just stupid!" which doesn't sound more encouraging, i'm afraid.

an alternative takeaway would be "people are good, unless they have power" - which isn't exactly a radical, revolutionary idea. most people have heard the maxim "power corrupts". but the thing is that almost everyone holds some amount power over others - the oppressed factory worker in a poor nation who works 12 hours a day for pittance might still execute power over his wife, who relies on him for money, and she in turn might hold power over her children, and so forth. and that power is often used to cause undue harm and exercise control.

he criticises machiavellianism, saying it doesn't reflect how society works, and one of his proofs is that his philosophies were espoused by bismarck, churchill, and stalin - hardly admirable figures in terms of (you guessed it!) causing harm. but i don't see how that discredits machiavelli? like all of the above were very succesful

and he keeps repeating the primitivism argument throughout the book which gets tiring. like i'm truly sorry you were born in the last 5% of human existence thus far when, in your opinion, humanity started going to the shits, but it's getting a bit tiring

he cites money and nations as concepts as harbingers of the current (negative) state of humanity, saying they're very recent concepts and have no basis in reality. they're artificial concepts, sure, but their effect is very much real, and while achieving a nation-less, money-less society is possible on a small scale, i think that at this point they are such large aspects of life that reigning them in seems impossible.

and invokes the noble savage again and again, showing himself in favour of tribal societies, depicting them as egalitarian - i'm sure many of them are, but many also have a strict hierarchy or like. practice fgm. once more he seems to treat tribal people as a monolith of goodness as opposed to... people.

he also cites prehistoric people, their egalitarianism and low rates of violence but. forgive me for my ignorance because i did not research this. how do people know. doesn't the definition of prehistory include a lack of records??

he also mentions that in small, tribal societies, conformism can be a good thing, as it makes people act for the communal good. this is another knee-jerk reaction of mine but i think of conformism as society's most significant vice, so this strikes very much against my beliefs

later on, he also says reproduction is another proof of humanities goodness. perhaps it's a controversial opinion, but i disagree. i find it hard to find reasons for reproduction that aren't egoistic. it's survival instinct, sure, but it's not an "inherently noble pursuit".

later yet, he brings up schools which grant large degrees of freedom to students and shows how they're good for developing their minds. this might be a me thing but i know from experience that when i'm granted freedom without structure, i do nothing - though perhaps that speaks ill of me, and not humanity.

there have, in fact, been many studies on schools like this being helpful to student development and i certainly won't argue with them - but let me nit-pick. bregman says that fewer students have adhd in these schools, as it is a condition caused by being locked inside a room all day which is not only offensive, but also just plain wrong

and also while showing how granting children freedom lets them develop (which i naturally agree with) he brings up that "dangerous playground" study. you know the one. this isn't a coherent argument, this is just my bias speaking , but as a child, i promise i had no desire to play with rusty nails in abandoned warehouses. i liked my boring playgrounds with wooden swings.

then there is a chapter on communism and how it could be a remedy to societies ailments. but bregman and i seem to operate on very different definitions of communism. he naturally starts with saying maoist china and stalinist russia and cambodia under pol pot weren't really communist which... sure, if you want to argue semantics, i'm all for it, but it's an old and essentially useless argument. if "real communism" has never been tried (as the author claims) - why?

and then we pass to perhaps the most bizarre fragment of the book. paraphrasing only slightly: "but why are we now so opposed to the word communism? when we pass each other salt at the dinner table, is that not communism? when we selflessly hold a door open for someone, is that not communism?" i.... no?? no it's not. that's not what communism is girl stop

he then also says facebook is actually communist in many ways since a lot of its value comes from photos people willingly share for free. i could not make this up if i tried.

i think that in most terms i agree with bregman on policy - direct democracy, school and prison systems, changes to the criminal justice system - and our reasoning is partially similar, but i don't think the information we both have access to proves that humans are inherently good.

and then come perhaps my least favourite arguments because i for one am a spiteful bitch but yes. it is time for christian ethics 101 and turning the other cheek.

he cites ghandi and mlk as examples of turning the other cheek working. i think ghandi went too far with his policy, what with saying "jews ought to have marched silently to their deaths or committed mass suicide to make nazis feel ashamed" and like. we do remember they killed mlk, right?

as an example of turning the other cheek, he cites humane prisons in norway, where prisoners are granted much larger freedoms than usual and are on equal footing with the guards, who aren't armed and act more as councillors. i don't really see how this is an example of turning the other cheek, though - the guards are not the victims of the inmates (it was a prison for violent offenders - many of them murderers). i agree with him that prisons, if they must exist, should treat inmates humanely and with respect, but i don't see how this relates to the turning of the cheek. statistically, many of these men probably murdered their mates in a drunken dispute, or killed their wives - and i don't think turning the other cheek would have helped their victims.

he also cites south africa in the sixties as an example of turning the other cheek, when anti-apartheid activists would meet up with pro-apartheid activists and talk - this included nelson mandela who had frequent talks with the leader of a white supremacist paramilitary organisation of afrikaners staunchly opposed to black south africans getting the vote. and it worked - the man, whose aim was starting a civil war, relented. but racism isn't a simple matter that can simply be solved by talking. and it is often a pragmatic policy which i don't disparage, but turning the other cheek and having to treat someone who refuses to acknowledge your humanity with an exorbitantly disproportionate amount of respect is inherently degrading.

skipping ahead, in the epilogue bregman lists ten rules he tries to live by, and one of them is, i shit you not, "don't punch nazis". and punching nazis doesn't stop them from being nazis, but turning the other cheek gets people killed

the rise of fascism is perhaps one the largest threats we are dealing with and fascists are not just isolated and misinformed (and in this day and age, ignorance is a choice). they are dangerous.

this is by no means an essay or an exhaustive list, just a slightly chaotic and much overdue collection of opinions which i don't know how to put under a read more. take care <3

23 notes · View notes

wr1ter-reader-dreamer · 5 years ago

Text

Waiting (Pt. 1)

Timothee Chalamet x Reader

A/N: This story is an original work of fiction inspired by actors I like. If you like it too, please reblog it and leave a comment. Also check out some of my other works at my master list linked below. I welcome feedback, so let me know how I could make my posts better! Thanks, and enjoy <3

Masterlist

Part 2 - Part 3

He had been away filming for months, and it was hard. We had gotten by with late night phone calls and Facetimes, but it was obvious how much we missed each other. Usually I was able to take time off to spend a week or two wherever he was filming, but not this time. This time the director had requested no outside guests, hoping that it would keep everyone focused so they could finish as fast as possible. Never before had I hated his job as much as I did now, but it was his passion, so I tried not to show it.

The calls and Facetimes had been innocent at first. We would end almost every night with a summary of our days, a statement about how much we missed each other, and a declaration of love. Days where we knew we would be too busy to call would see numerous Snapchats with short captions about whatever we were thinking at the moment. Everything was going fine the first month, but then everything changed.

I had been having a particularly hard day at work when I got a text from Timothee to check his Instagram. Curious, I immediately clicked open the app and looked for his most recent post. What I saw had my body instantly heating up.

The picture was a first look of Timmy’s character in the movie. He was dressed in period garb with black leather pants and chainmail. His hair was cut shorter than usual, and he was looking off camera with a serious look on his face. The image radiated power and authority, a look I usually only saw from Timmy in bed.

Sucking in a deep breathe, I attempted to rein in my racing heart. I didn’t bother texting him back, knowing he would see that I had liked the post and that he would know what it had done to me. For now, I tried desperately to focus on my work until I could get home and show him exactly how much I had liked the picture.

That night our FaceTime hadn’t been so innocent. Instead we both showed each other just how much we had missed the other with lowly spoken words of praise and need. After that, all of our conversations had an underlying, if nor outright, sexual tones. It was obvious that we needed each other in a more carnal way that neither of us were bothering to hide.

It was no surprise really that we had come to this. Timothee and I had always had a very active sex life, and that didn’t change just because he was away filming. After almost two years together, we knew all of the alternative ways of getting each other off. If anything, it was surprising that we hadn’t started this earlier.

We continued like this for two months, our calls now ending with breathless “I love you’s” after we were both temporarily satisfied. Neither of us was a stranger to the fact that the tension and sexual frustration was building the longer he was away. I needed him, and he needed me, and the last day of filming could not come fast enough.

Just when I thought I would die from frustration, Timmy announced in an excited call that he would be him in two days. Bubbling with anticipation, I prepared for his arrival. I re-stocked the fridge with all his favorites, changed the sheets on the bed so he could crawl into fresh ones, and even bought a new set of lingerie that I knew he would love.

I took off of work the day he was set to arrive, knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus. Instead I set my focus on preparing for tonight. Timmy’s plane would arrive relatively late, and I knew he would be hungry, so I made his favorite dinner. I also took a shower, shaved, and put on the lingerie under now of his oversized t-shirts so that I was prepared for desert. It was a tradition to spend our first night back together relieving all of our built up tension, no matter how late he got in.

Finally, I got the text that he had landed and was in a car on his way home. Squealing, I set out dinner on our small table and went to the entry hall to wait. I knew that it would take a while for him to arrive, but I was to excited to do anything else. I had missed my sweet boy more than I ever could have imagined, and I was so happy to finally get to be in his arms again.

Lost in my thoughts about his soft smile and fluffy brown hair, I almost missed the sound of the key turning in the lock. Still, there was no way I could miss the door swinging open to reveal my handsome boyfriend, a large yet tired smile on his face.

“Timmy!” I squealed, rushing into his arms and almost knocking him over in the processes.

He laughed and dropped the bags in his hands so he could wrap his arms around me, “Hi, mon amour.”

Eagerly I pulled back from the hug only to connect my lips with his in a frantic kiss. Pushing up on my toes, I tangled my fingers in the base of his now grown out curls and tugged lightly. He growled, returning my kiss briefly before pulling away with a quick peck.

“I’ve missed you, baby,” he sighed as he smoothed his thumbs over my cheeks and looked at me, “I almost forgot how beautiful you are.”

Rolling my eyes, I nipped playfully at his thumb before stepping away entirely, “I made you dinner.”

“I can smell that,” he smiled, hand trailing down my arm to my own so as to not loose contact. After so long away he didn’t want to let me go for a second, and I was perfectly fine with that.

I bent down to pick up his bags as I said, “Why don’t you get started, and I’ll take these to our room?”

“Merci, mon cher. Hurry back, though. I miss you.”

Smiling, I nodded. I quickly took his bags to our room and deposited them in our closet before glancing in the mirror. Briefly, I fluffed my hair and smiled, then made my way back to where Timothee was tucking into dinner.

“How was your flight, handsome?” I asked as I sat beside him and tangled my fingers with those of his free hand.

Taking a moment to chew and swallow his bite, he shrugged, “Long and boring. This is really good.”

“You should know by now that I can cook when I want to,” I teased playfully.

He rolled his eyes with a smile, “But you prefer when I do it.”

I shrugged, “Not my fault those French grandparents of yours taught you so well.”

With a laugh and a shake of his head, he reached for the glass of wine by his plate. I watched mesmerized as his long fingers wrapped atone the simple glass and brought it to his lips. His soft lips curled around the rim, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed a large gulp. Then he returned the glass to its place by his plate, and my eyes lingered on his hand.

He had such nice hands. Long fingers, wide palm, perfect for curling inside me or pinning my hands above my head when I was naughty. Instantly my body heated uo, reminding me just how long I had gone without those hands on me.

Timmy must have noticed my gaze because he sighed. Blushing at having been caught, I looked up at him to find an apologetic look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked with a slight frown.

He sighed again and turned slightly to rest his arm on my shoulder and play with the ends of my hair, “I’ve had a really long day, mon amour, and I have to be up really early for a photoshoot tomorrow.”

“So?”

“Baby,” he said softly, abandoning my hair and cupping my cheek, “I can’t tonight.”

“Oh,” I said dejectedly.

“I’m sorry, amour. I know how much we’ve both been looking forward to this, but I need to get some sleep.”

Plastering a small smile on my face, I shook my head, “It’s alright Timmy. I understand, and I can wait.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning down slightly to catch my eye.

“Of course.”

He smiled and pulled me into a big, “Je t’aims, douce fille. Merci.”

“I love you too, Timmy. So much”

And that was how we broke tradition for the first time. Timothee finished his dinner then took a shower while I cleared the table. When I was done, I got ready for bed, making sure that he didn’t see my disappointment. I knew that his job was important, and I didn’t want to make him feel bad. I hadn’t lied. I did understand, and it was fine. I was perfectly capable of waiting. I just didn’t realize how long I’d have to wait.

A/N: There are a second and third part to this, so make sure to hit the link above to read them! And if you’d like to read more of my work, make sure to check out my masterlist, also linked above.

174 notes · View notes

aspenflower17 · 4 years ago

Text

Finding You (Part 12 of ??)

Hi hi! I’m hoping this update finds you all well and happy. I have a lot more time this coming week to write, so I hope I can get on top of my WIPs and get the next chapter out not late on a Sunday.

Anyways, for his chapter itself, I wanted to try something a bit different. When Mc was composing her song, I had a very particular one in mind, and so when the song comes up, I’m going to put a YouTube link there that you can click on and listen to the song while you’re reading. For people that have problems reading while listening to music, it is all instrumental and you definitely do not have to click the link. I’m just trying to get more across in my fics than I would otherwise :) I will also have a link at the end of the update that will link you to the original scenes where the two parts of the song are from.

I should also note, there might be spoilers in this for people who haven’t read very far in the main story in game.

For anyone who hasn’t read the rest of the updates, here is the link to Part One if you would be so inclined to read :)

Tags!: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb (as always, if you would like to be added to the tags list, just comment down below or send me a message about it!)

Satan / F!Mc

Words: 2,404

Trigger warnings: None that I can think of, though if you had a bad experience with the movie the song is from, that could be a problem...

“Sorry to intrude. I just heard your playing and had to find out who was making such gorgeous music,” Satan was leaning against the doorway, a soft smile on his face, “Is that one of your compositions?”

“Oh,” Mc looked down, a little embarrassed, “Yes, but it isn’t finished yet.”

“It’s still beautiful,” Satan said softly, hoping she would allow him to stay.

“Thank you,” Mc answered softly, matching his smile.

Satan cleared this throat and looked down, blushing, “So, how long have you been working on this piece?”

“Honestly, a while now,” Mc sighed slightly, “It’s something I composed in the Celestial Realm, though it never sounded right. It’s only on the piano’s here in the Devildom that it’s sounded… right,” Mc looked up at Satan at that, and he nodded, his hand resting on his chin thoughtfully, “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get further in the piece.”

Satan cleared his throat, “Well, if you play it again, I may be able to help. I have done some composing before, though not as much as you… Anyways, only if you want to. I would hate to impose…” he was blushing furiously now, wondering why he’d even offered.

“That would actually be lovely,” Mc admitted, her heart fluttering a bit at the prospect, “A fresh perspective might be just what I need.”

“I’d be happy to assist then,” Satan said, walking over to stand behind her.

Mc looked up and smiled at him, “Thank you.”

Satan’s heart stopped for a moment, fragments of memories flying through his mind of Mc looking up and smiling at him. He swallowed thickly, and gestured for her to play, not trusting his voice.

Mc was a bit confused, watching the sadness well up in his eyes. Despite the sudden emotion, she turned and started playing when he gestured. (This song)

Satan was transfixed by the music from the first note, wondering if this was the loneliness Mc had mentioned to him so long ago, put into the notes ringing through the air. If that was the case, he had to wonder why the Celestial Realm had kept her from him. He would have cured her loneliness, no matter what it took. If she had needed companionship, he would have provided it. If she needed kind words, he would have provided it. Absolutely anything she would have needed would have been provided. She would never have had to know such pain.

In that moment, he wondered what would have happened if Mc had come to the Devildom instead of the Celestial Realm. He knew she would have been grabbed from the upcoming souls, if not by him, then one of his brothers, Diavolo or Barbatos, her ties to the realm more to do with love and friendship, not sin and corruption. Assuming she had still wanted him, he would have followed her in wherever she would have wanted to go and helped her accomplish anything she would have wanted to do. If she had wanted to move out of the House of Lamentation, he would have made it happen, and if she never wanted to leave, he would gladly put up with whatever antics his brothers felt they needed to inflict upon him. He would even have put up with their constant flirting if it made her happy. If she had wanted to become a demon, he would have helped her, making sure any adjustment she would have gone through were as quick and painless as possible.

He imagined they would have been happy together, seeing as how his wrath was more contained and muted with her around. She had shown him what love was, helping him realize not only that he loved her but that he did love his brothers and they him, though they all showed it in very weird ways. She had helped him cut through all his self doubt, making him feel less like a monster on a self inflicted leash, a shadow of the power and man that had created him, and more like an individual with his own thoughts and feelings, valid and special in his own right. No one had ever been able to do that for him, and he doubted anyone ever would again.

When the music changed, calm and desolate, he knew this was her loneliness without a doubt. Some part of his brain also recognized she was nearing where she hadn’t composed yet. Without thinking, he sat on her right, watching her practiced hands play. He felt the inspiration for the rest of the song start to well up inside him. He also felt his anger at the situation they now found themselves in burning behind it all as well. They had been happy together before her mortality had ripped them apart. The angels knew this, and yet they had kept her from him, even though she had obviously been suffering. She hid and dealt with it well, her art a testament to that, but she had suffered needlessly. He wanted to let Mc know she was not alone and he would help her. Even if she never fell in love with him again, this was her plea for help and he would not allow it to go unanswered.

The first couple lines he played were just repeats of hers, an attempt at solidarity.

Mc was surprised by his actions, though they spurred her on, the song actually continuing past the point she had composed. She had never actively composed with someone else, and she found the action calming in a way. It was if he could read her mind on what needed to happen in the song.

Satan suddenly started playing furiously, a bit of a call back to earlier in the song, though with more gusto. Mc couldn’t help but watch as he glared a bit at the keys as if they would provide the answers to the rest of the song. She felt inspired, playing the bottom hand as he played the top. She felt more connected to him than she ever had with anyone, the composition coming together better than she would have thought possible. Their hands even touched a couple times, as they fought for use of the keys they knew would help express the magic that was happening.

Mc started a chromatic scale, lost in the moment, adding flair as she went up. She didn’t realize what she was doing until she was at the top of the keyboard, trilling between two notes. She was leaning a bit into Satan, their legs and shoulders touching as she had scooted over on the bench to reach the notes. He was watching her, their faces extremely close. He was smiling softly again.

She pulled back into her own space, a blush dusting her cheeks though she felt happy, “Pardon my enthusiasm.”

Her blush and smile made him feel like he had accomplished something, “I like your enthusiasm,” he said, his voice only coming out in a whisper.

She smiled at him, “Well, I’m glad,” then, “Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you,” she pulled a letter from the air, Satan’s eyebrows raising in interest, “It’s a reply to the one you gave me.”

He took the letter and tucked it into his jacket pocket, “Thank you. That was an interesting trick you just did.”

“Oh, I’ve known it for ages now. I left a particularly embarrassing poem out once, and another angel read it out loud in front of a lot of other angels. It’s safe to say I keep all important things hidden now.”

“Glad to know you think this is important,” Satan half teased, making Mc flush slightly.

“I didn’t realize you were such an accomplished piano player,” Mc said, trying to move the conversation in a direction that wouldn’t make her heart race.

“Oh, well, music has been fundamental in helping to develop and understand new emotions,” Satan admitted, knowing Mc was the only person he’d ever openly admit this to.

“New… emotions?” Mc, remembering the conversation between Michael and Diavolo, she tried to keep the intense curiosity from her voice in an effort not to upset Satan or scare him away from the topic.

“Yes. I… How much do you know about my birth?”

“I… I’ve learned more about it since coming here, but I still don’t know a lot,” Mc admitted, trying to keep her voice as nice but neutral as possible.

“Well, I was born from Lucifer’s wrath. In the beginning, all I could feel was anger, though it wasn’t really directed at anyone. I knew why Lucifer was angry but most of that didn’t seem to matter much. Those acts had not been directed at me; why should I care? I was just angry, because that’s all I was. The first time I think I remember feeling anything besides rage was at Lilith’s memorial.

Huh? Who’s Lilith?

“I remember Lucifer sitting at the piano, pouring his grief into the song he was playing. Though I remember music from Lucifer’s memories, it was my first time experiencing it as an individual. The song had been Lilith’s favorite, though the piano’s of the Devildom and the slow tempo Lucifer played it had made what was usually a very happy song into a funeral march. In that moment, watching all my brothers with tears in their eyes, many openly weeping when the song started, I felt a twinge in my heart, and I teared up. I remember wiping them, staring at the liquid on my finger,” he looked down at his hands at that, completely caught up in the memory.

“I thought about that moment a lot. I rolled it around over and over in my head trying to figure out what it was I had experienced. It was at this time that I asked Lucifer to teach me how to play the piano. I thought the key was in the music itself, and I practiced a lot. Lucifer is not a forgiving teacher, so I was constantly striving for perfection, but from my own expectations of myself and his. Still, even as I became a better piano player, I still couldn’t get the emotion I wanted from the instrument, though I didn’t know that’s what I was looking for. It was the most wooden playing you could imagine.

“One day, I was very angry at my inability to play the way I wanted to. I was throwing things around in my room because Lucifer made it very clear I was never to destroy the piano just because I was upset, when Beel decided to look in on me. Most of my brothers, Asmo aside, give me a very wide berth when I’m upset, though I think they do it now more out of respect for my privacy than fear. Anyways, Beel came in and asked me what was wrong. I ended up screaming about how frustrated I was at not being able to play like Lucifer did at Lilith’s memorial. He was a bit confused as to why, and I explained to him that I needed to explore the strange sensation that had made me cry. After a bit more explanation, he smiled sadly and explained that what I had felt was probably either sadness or grief. He then went on to explain the emotion in the most blunt, truthful way I’ve ever heard out of anyone, and I’ve read a lot. It wasn’t flowery or dramatic. It was someone honestly and truthfully expressing how they felt. It was a lot like when someone puts so much emotion into their music and you can’t help but understand them. His words did the same thing for me that Lucifer’s playing had done, and that twinge came back. Experiencing it in the moment allowed me to be able to ask his confirmation on what I was feeling.

“Looking back on the whole encounter, I’m ashamed of how I acted, but I’m glad Beel came in and helped me when he did. It helped me understand myself a bit more, and recognize I can feel things that aren’t anger. Without his help, who knows how long I would’ve been floundering around in the dark. Ah, but you didn’t ask for my personal history. You were just asking about my piano playing,” Satan rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright!” Mc answered, louder and more forcefully than she intended. He looked at her in shock, and it was her turn to act sheepishly, “I just… I’m glad you told me. I feel like I understand you a lot better now.”

“I’m glad,” Satan said, smiling.

“You’re at the piano huh? We were wondering where you’d gone off to,” a voice interrupted, making them both look over, “Lucifer wants you to come back because dinner’s almost done. I’m guessing you should probably head back with us,” the strawberry blonde smiled at Mc.

“Oh, you’re Asmodeus right?” Mc asked, proud of herself for recognizing him.

“Oh, you know who I am darling? Oh, who am I kidding? How could you have not heard about me by now?”

“Right…” Mc laughed a bit uncomfortably, “I also remember you from when you dropped off Satan’s letter to me as a child.”

Asmo’s eyes widened a bit, “Oh, I thought it might be you. I wasn’t sure though.”

“You weren’t sure? You had an idea though,” Satan’s voice was flat as was his expression.

“Oh, Satan, calm down. I didn’t want to say anything in case I was wrong. You can understand why, right?”

Satan sighed, “I suppose so. I guess it doesn’t really affect anything in the long run.”

“Glad you understand. Now, we really should get back. Are you coming with?” Asmo directed the last part at Mc.

“Sure. I should be joining Luke and Michael anyway,” Mc said, sliding off the left side of the bench, walking towards Asmo. Satan pushed the bench back when she was clear of it, and walked over to Asmo too.

Asmo grinned mischievously, “You know, you two make a cute couple!”

Mc flushed at the comment and looked down.

“Oh no need to be so bashful Satan. I’m only stating the obvious. If you have a problem with it though, I’d be more than happy to steal her away.”

Steal me away? What’s all that about?

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

Hi! So, the song I linked above is actually two different songs combined into one. It is from Corpse Bride a claymation film from Tim Burton. From that, you should be able to decide if it’s something you’d like to watch. I do think it was pretty well done and would recommend it.

The beginning is called Victor’s Piano Solo (Scene here) and the second part is The Piano Duet (scene here)

Part Thirteen

#obey me!#OBEY ME #obey me! swd #obey me swd #obey me satan #obey me! satan #obey me mc #obey me! mc #obey me! f!mc #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #corpse bride #the duet scene is just so romantic!#i couldn't help myself #my writing #aspenflower17 #finding you

27 notes · View notes

andaleduardo · 4 years ago

Note

Where, besides Tumblr, can people find you doing fannish things? (Obviously only mention sites and usernames you actually want to be found at. Don’t expose your secret identities on my account.)

What other names have you gone by on these platforms, including Tumblr, if any?

When did you join the IT fandom? And what got you into fandom, to begin with?

What are your favorite ships, or characters, if any, and why? What do they mean to you?

In what ways do you participate in fandom? (ex. Posting memes, reblogging/commenting on content, writing fanfic, making fanart, creating fanmixes, etc.)

Do you have any in-fandom inspirations? Other members of the community that drive you? (And if you have the time/energy, in what ways do they inspire you?)

Name and link some of your favorite works, please!

Do you have any works of your own that you feel particularly proud of, or wish more people would’ve consumed? Please provide links if possible.

Have you ever participated in a fannish event (ie. IT Week, a fic Big Bang) or applied to be a part of a fanzine? If so, which ones, and can you please link them?

Without any form of bashing or lashing out, what is something you feel this fandom is missing?

We’ve talked about it before but I wanna thank you one more time for all the thought you put into these questions and for sending them to me, honestly <33

Okay this is probably going to be a long post I’m sorry in advance,,

- Besides tumblr and AO3 (it’s the same username) I don’t have any more fannish accounts, I have a twitter so I can keep up with the IT content over there but my account is private I don’t really interact there I just observe 👀

- Jesus what a good question, my first name on tumblr was eds-spagheds, that was also my first name on AO3, but then the second movie came out and I had to make good use of that iconic line

- Okay buckle up I love this story. So, It chapter one came out in 2017, but I hate horror movies with a passion, I never watch them, so when my friends asked me to come see it with them I said no, right. Fast forward one year. One random day in high school I think I caught the flu or something and I was feeling like absolute CRAP but me and my friend (the same one that invited me to see It on the cinema) had already made plans for that afternoon, that were: watch IT chapter one at her house. I tell you, I was laying on her couch having fever dreams while we waited for another friend of ours to show up, I was thinking to myself, I’m gonna go home, I feel like shit I don’t want to watch a horror movie that I’m gonna have nightmares about tonight. Anyway, I didn’t leave, they convinced me because they said “you love stranger things you’ll love this too”. The three of us sat down to watch the movie. Me, a dumbass, said this on the first seconds of the movie: “Can you imagine how bad it must feel to enter a fandom based on a movie? Like, with stranger things you can rewatch all the seasons but with a movie it’s just, the same 2 hours to obsess over and over.” No, I didn’t know there was a book, mini-series, or a second part. Yes, I got to know them all in the following months because as soon as I finished the movie I knew that was it for me.

- Okay favorite ships? We’re all tired of this answer but reddie. However, I like every single ship imaginable between the 7 of them, to me they’re all soulmates and I love all the dynamics possible. I lovE all of them, ships and characters. I think I related most to Ben, because of the unrequited love, body image and food issues. That part on the book about Ben’s mom feeding him unhealthy things and him trying to eat better and then the guilt trip? man, that hit too close. But like many people say, we all relate to every loser in a different way.

- Sighs. I don’t really participate anymore... First 2 years I was on fire with content, I did fanart and wrote prompts, one shots, full fics.. now I literally just reblog things and try to give love to the artists. I guess you can say I’m retired

- That’s a difficult question, all of the art I see inspires me, all of the fics I love inspire me, before, I guess they inspired me to create my own content for the fandom but since I don’t create anymore, they just, make my day really much better. I appreciate every single content creator of this fandom, you don’t know how much joy it brings me

- Okay okay!! This is impossible to get right because I will forget many many people for sure but over all this time there’s some works that really stick with me and that I think about every other day:

a (number) neighborhood of seven by BookRockShooter

I Might Be Dreaming (I Might Be Dead) by batwake

two falling sparks by zach_stone

Predicament Bondage by dgalerab

Now What I'm Gonna Say May Sound Indelicate by IfItHollers

& That's For All Time by tossertozier (rednoseredhair)

In Over Your Chest is Way Too Deep (AKA Surf Bois) by speakslow

5555 by weepies

- Yes! I wrote a handful of things but my absolute favorite one is this: Late at night when I like who I am, in the dark where I’m finally me

- No :( Sadly I never participated in any fandom event as a creator, but I love to see everyone’s work when one happens ! I bought the loser’s zine and it’s my most prized possession

- Hmmmm tough question, I think a little more empathy? There are so many kind and amazing people here but there are also some people who are... not. I see a lot of discourse over useless things like adults being in the fandom is somehow bad because the losers were once kids? like, are we forgetting this story follows these people from their childhoods through their adulthoods? And are we supposed to stop liking things after we turn 20 or? And when people who write Richie’s parents as bad parents are regarded as edgy teens who just want to cause Richie pain??? like what the....? so many people have only watched the movies and i’m sorry but in the movies there’s nothing that shows Richie’s parents as good parents, that’s only in the book, why do we attack these people then? maybe they relate to Richie and they have bad households, don’t we all project ourselves on our favorite characters?

Anyway, that’s all from me, if anyone reads this far I’ll be impressed but I had a lot of fun with these 👉👈

#long post #asks #so many good questions aA #It 2017 #It 2019 #the losers club

8 notes · View notes

umber-cinders · 2 years ago

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @pilesofpillows 😙

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Four works so far but hoping to add more since I have a lot more fics written I've never published.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Wow I didn't even know this was a thing! Had to look up how to find it. My total Ao3 word count is 182,483 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

My current works are for Black Panther but I plan to write a oneshot for MCU's Secret Invasion show because I liked Gravik and thought he was hot (I like the skrull in general lol). But I also have pretty long and large fics for Netflix's 2017 movie "Bright" that I want to upload as well. There are other fandoms too but they escape me atm.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I only have four fics up and one of them is brand new so 😅

Winter Moon

Mount Jabari

If The Shoe Fits

Incubus

In that order. You can find a link to my fics for both tumblr and Ao3 here

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely! I love talking to the people reading my stuff and want them to know that their comments are appreciated and often keep me motivated to write more 😁Love you guys! 💕

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm, I guess that would be If The Shoe Fits. There's a planned part two that might negate this answer though.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Mount Jabari 🤣Reader was very happy at the end of that fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I did on Winter Moon but I don't particularly care about the opinions of someone whose intentions are to be intentionally dismissive and negative so the comments the person received in return were likely not what they had wanted 💀

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Absolutely yes. Bring me the SMUT! Right now! I will write it for you if you don't.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nah, never did a crossover and not really a fan of them. However when I was still really young there was a gigantic, kind of OOC crossover fic with a bunch of popular anime from the 90s/2000s called Otherworld and I used to read that like it was the bible. It inspired me to do my own first fanfics. There were like 9 books to that story and multiple oneshots and short stories that tied the characters together and everything.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware... and anyone who tries it....

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not publicly, but I have gotten a comment that someone loves my story so much that they translate every chapter so that they could read it properly and it made me so happy 😭❤💕

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! But I do love giving other authors ideas and vice versa. I think it helps people think outside the box when they brainstorm with friends.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I'm going to say Attoye from Black Panther for now? I was never that big of a "shipping" person in fandoms but I definitely enjoy Attoye enough to say I ship them. I also like Nashuri and Killmora.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Nothing atm. I tend to work on stories in order of inspiration and importance. I don't publish things I'm not willing to commit time to at some point.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm not sure exactly. I've been told that I write very descriptively and that it can paint a vivid picture of scenarios and characters, so I'll go with that.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fluff and filler. I don't dislike fluff completely but I tend to write it as realistically as possible because trying to imagine people being that super ooey gooey makes me wanna gag and cringe lmfao

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I do it only when necessary for the simple fact that having to provide translations for entire scenes of dialogue gets tiresome and tricky.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Inuyasha in middle school💀

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

It doesn't have a name but like I said above, it was definitely Inuyasha and or anime related.

No pressure tagging: @karisomk, @megamindsecretlair, @mamajankyy, @mickimomo and anyone else who see this and would like to participate!

#tumblr tag game #writer tag game

5 notes · View notes

horansqueen · 5 years ago

Text

You & Me : chapter 41

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34|| CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his -4.6k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: hope the smut isnt too much lol! oh and, couldnt find the gif i wanted but this one will do. this chapter was fun to write and i dont think it was a filler chapter lol! only a few chapters left, im super nervous! at the same time, this story is getting less and less popular sooo idk, maybe its time? idk. if you read and comment and like and reblog, I LOVE YOU!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : posting them at the bottom because of spoilers!

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 41 : His chapter

NIALL

May 15th, 2018

I was so close to ask her to marry me when we were in Spain. I kept looking at her ring finger, imagining what the ring I had bought would look on her hand, and telling myself that now that we were official, anything was possible, and I wanted it. I wanted the impossible, I wanted everything. The words "marry me" almost escaped my lips exactly 11 times and even now, I was wondering how I actually stopped myself from just doing it.

We were back in California for a few days and I had convinced her to spend her time in my house instead to go back to hers. Most likely, Louis was there with Eleanor or he was spending all his time at her place. Either way, I thought we were better at my house but I knew that eventually, she'd want to see Louis and get back in her stuff anyway.

I woke up and blinked a few times as the sun peeked through the curtains but not enough to light the room. It was dark but I could see clearly and when I turned around, I realized she was laying on her back, completely naked, and the covers were only hiding one of he legs. She was still asleep, her hair messy around her head, and I couldn't help but reach for my cock as my eyes roamed on her. I got on my knees gently, making sure I wouldn't make the mattress move too much, and let one of my hands run on her breasts while I grabbed my dick with the other, stroking it slowly. I rubbed my thumb on one of her nipples until it got hard and finally, I let my fingertips brush down her body to reach between her legs, her skin so soft against mine. Slowly, I moved one of her knees before letting two of my fingers run on her slit. The more I was touching her, the harder I was getting and I moved closer to her on my knees just to rub the tip of my cock on her nipple.

"Jesus Christ." I whispered before she moved lightly in her sleep, letting out a low whimper.

I stopped moving and waited until she did too to continue touching her, my heart skipping a beat. The sensation was incredible and it made me want to rub my dick all over her body. I turned my body slightly and reached for her lips with my dick this time, feeling myself get even hornier when she licked her lips. It brushed on the tip of my cock and I let out a low groan as my eyes fluttered. I knew the whole thing was turning me on more than it should and all I could think about was getting between her legs and pushing my cock deep inside her.

Instead, I reached for her pussy again, rubbing one of my fingers gently on her clit as I felt her get wetter. Her body jerked a bit and she moaned low again before I let out an other curse word and slipped two fingers inside her, moving them in and out of her extremely slowly. I could hear how wet she was and I felt my cock throb in my hand. I was so turned on by her that I could barely believe I was doing that but she was so gorgeous, laying there completely naked in my white sheets, and the way she made me hard was just un-fucking-believable. I finally moved between her legs very slowly only to rub the tip of my dick on her clit. It slid easily due to how wet she was from me fingering her and this time, she let out a louder moan as one of her legs twitched. I jerked off harder between her legs as I pushed my thumb inside of her and rubbed her clit harder with one of my fingers until I was closer to an orgasm and without thinking, I took my hand away and pushed the tip of my cock inside her. Her walls pressed around it and I knew she was waking up. I took my cock out as I felt an orgasm reach me, cumming a bit inside of her before spurting on her pussy.

"Holy fuck."

I let out a moan as I watched her pussy get covered with my cum and when I looked up, her lips were parted and she was staring at me.

"Did you just cum all over me?" she asked in a low tone, her eyebrows raised.

"I.. did. I'm sorry."

Her eyes fell on my still hard cock as I shook it slightly and she bit her bottom lip before spreading her legs apart more and reaching for her pussy. I looked at her fingers gather some of my cum and slide it down until her clit. She let out a louder whimper as she started rubbing herself with the vestige of my orgasm and I couldn't help but let out an other curse word.

"You should have woken me up." she pointed, her voice a mix of a whimper and a whisper.

"I know petal but you looked so vulnerable and hot just laying there, naked and asleep." I admitted, my eyes never leaving her fingers as she flicked them on her clit. "Fuck, you love rubbing your clit with my sperm?"

I didn't know if it was my words or just the fact that she was touching herself but she let out an other moan and her back arched suddenly. I brought one of my hands closer and once again pushed two of my fingers inside her as she kept touching herself and squirming on the bed.

"I want to watch you cum, darling."

It only took her about half a minute before she started shaking and when my named escaped her lips, I could swear I got dizzy and my vision got blurred for a few seconds.

"Oh fuck, Niall!"

Something stirred in my stomach and I just stared at her as she came, grinding on my fingers and squirming even more. When she came down from her high and relaxed on the mattress, I took my fingers out and slowly lied down over her. Her eyes were still closed and her lips were still parted as she panted. I brushed my mouth against hers and she whimpered as I felt my whole body vibrate.

"You did so well, petal. That was so fucking hot."

She brought her hands to my head, slipping her fingers in my hair, before kissing me deeply. I tilted my head slightly, tasting her as she whimpered in my mouth. I swallowed her moans and when i pulled away to look in her eyes, she sighed low.

"I don't want to go to work today." she admitted, raising her nose up and making an amused smile appear on my lips.

"You have to."

"I could call in sick?" she asked, her eyebrows raised and her face full of hope.

I laughed and shook my head, making her groan immediately. "Nope, you have to go. I'll go with you, how's that?"

"Better than nothing I guess."

I chuckled and got up, searching through my stuff to find clean clothes and when I glanced at her, my lips curled again.

"Stop staring at me and get ready. I'll make coffee and we can leave." The alarm on her phone started ringing as soon as I finished my sentence and I raised my eyebrows. "See? You have to wake up. Take a shower, I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

I heard her groan and turned around when I heard a sound only to realize she had tried throwing a pillow at me but had failed miserably. I laughed and shook my head but turned back around and reached the kitchen.

We ate toasts quickly as we walked to the car and remained silent the whole ride until we were there. We should both have gotten out of the car, I knew it, but instead, we remained sitting there, looking in front of us, and I kept wondering how we should act together. We were never the type to show too much affection in public. It happened before with friends around, or family sometimes, but not when random strangers could see. This time, we were with a lot of strangers and I was wondering if I should hold her hand or not. Should I kiss her temple sometimes? Or just go straight for the mouth? I didn't know anymore and if I wanted to be frank, I had never asked myself that question in any other relationships before.

"Ready?"

"No."

I frowned and turned to her but it took her a few seconds to look back at me. She sighed and shrugged before shaking her head a bit.

"Things have been particularly awkward with Dylan even since Heidi posted all those lyrics about us on instagram." she admitted, closing her eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them again. "We're filming the season's finale today and, I don't know, I'm nervous I guess."

"Anything special about the final episode?"

She stared at me, her eyes roaming on my face, and her lips parted. "His character is breaking up with my character."

We looked at each other in silence and after a while, I reached for her hand on her thigh and squeezed her fingers tight. I knew why it made her feel like this and I knew it was not only because of her relationship with Dylan being awkward. This scene was our scene. It was that day I broke up with her and tore her heart in pieces. I held my breath, feeling suddenly extremely exposed. I had no really realized before how big this was. Of course, I knew her tv show was inspired by our story but it just hit me that people were actually watching it, and I was wondering how many of them now knew almost exactly what had happened between us?

"I'm here with you. It'll go amazingly, trust me." I pointed out, knowing it was not the right time to have a big discussion about her writing. "Remember in Italy? I almost believed you were breaking up with me to go marry your ex boyfriend."

She chuckled a bit. "You totally believed it."

"Maybe I did." I quickly replied. "But only for a few minutes, because I believe in us, I believe in our love, and I believe in you. So you go in there and play that scene and show them how incredible you are."

Her lips curled a bit and she rolled her eyes before finally nodding. I smiled more and we got out of the car to walk in. I thought I'd see Dylan first but when my eyes met Heidi's, I felt my heart jump up in my throat, almost throwing it up. I felt Olivia tense next to me and I held my breath when she saw us. She sent us a big smile but I could read so much pettiness behind it that it made me grimace.

"Hi!"

I glanced at Olivia who frowned and licked her lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh you didn't know?" Heidi replied, her eyebrows raised and her lips curled into a satisfied smile. "I'm with Dylan now."

As if on cue, he appeared and stood next to Heidi but I noticed his eyes never left my girlfriend and it bothered me more than I wanted to admit. Of course, I couldn't expect him to just forget about her, after all, he was ready to marry her, but at the same time I wanted him to move on as quickly as he could. If that was to be done with Heidi then be it : i was ready to put up with her on the set.

"I hope it doesn't bother you too much." Heidi added, tilting her head and looking at Liv who sent her a smile back.

Dylan and I were just keeping quiet, not really sure what we were supposed to say or do, and I pushed both my hands in my pockets.

"Oh no, not at all. It's all good." Olivia replied with a shrug. "I mean, it's not the first time you run after one of my exes, you know? Oh! Maybe I could make you a list of all the men and women I dated? Would save you some time."

I almost choked on my own spit, not really expecting that reply. I knew what kind of person my girlfriend was but she had always played it low with Heidi because she knew it was not worth it. It seemed like this time, she had had enough.

I thought Heidi would answer something rude but instead, her facial expression changed into a surprised one and finally, her eyes got smaller. She was pissed, I knew it, but she'd never prove it to Olivia. She found her smile back and breathed in, wrapping her arm around Dylan's and looking up at him.

"Can you show me the set?"

He nodded and they left but he glanced back at us when he was farther and I finally sighed, turning to my girlfriend who was smiling. I thought she'd be a bit mad, or upset that her ex boyfriend was now with my ex girlfriend, but she didn't seem to care... until her smile fell down and she closed her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong suddenly?" I asked with a frown, taking a step closer and wrapping my fingers around her arm.

"I just realized Heidi was going to be there for the finale." she admitted, looking up at me. "She'll... see all of it. She'll see how it went... between... us."

It was the very first time Olivia admitted that her tv show was about us and I licked my lips, feeling something stir in my stomach. I didn't care that Heidi saw it, but I cared that the whole world would.

"You shouldn't care about her. She's with Dylan just to get to you or get back at us. She's here to piss you off and make you feel like shit. Don't let it get to you. Don't let her win."

She turned her whole body my way and her lips curled slightly into a fond smile. Slowly, she got on her tiptoe and pressed her lips gently against mine. It took me by surprise but I just answered her kiss and when she got back down on her feet, she tilted her head.

"Liv, can I ask you something?" I asked seriously, licking my lips as she nodded, her smile faltering a bit. "I know your tv show is based on our story but... for the next season, could you change that?"

I was scared to hurt her but at the same time, it was something I just needed to ask. If she said she didn't want to, I would accept it, but she knew my private life was a big deal for me and when she started nibbling on her bottom lip, I knew she felt guilty. I could read it on her face.

"I'm sorry, Niall. I never thought people would connect the show with our story but that was stupid of me. I mean, when I wrote that, I thought I'd never see you again, so I sort of wrote to... let it all out, you know?" she stopped and sighed. "Of course I'll make it different. I'll think of a whole other story for the characters, and make sure it has nothing in common with our story. Except maybe... well, the fact that they're soulmates."

I smiled and nodded, chuckling slightly. "I don't know if they are, but I know we are."

----

I wandered around the studio while they were filming, and finally ended up at the cafeteria to grab a bite. I sat alone and started checking messages I got on my phone when I felt a presence in front of me and looked up. I was not surprised to see Heidi but I was not pleased either.

"Niall, we need to talk."

I blinked a few times and licked my lips, not really in the mood to discuss with her, but I finally just sighed and put my phone down as she sat down. I noticed she was holding a sheet in her hands and it made me frown. I didn't have time to ask her about it, she simply leaned against the table to move closer to me and instinctively, I moved my upper body away from hers.

"You know you could have just called me." she let out, confusing me and making me frown. "I know you miss me, and honestly I think we should get back together. I forgive you, I know you were a bit lost and..." she shook her head and I was even more puzzled. "It doesn't matter."

I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts back into place but I just licked my lips again. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She put the sheet on the table and pushed it closer to me. It took me half a second to realize it was my handwriting and after reading only a few words, I knew it was which song of mine.

"Wait, where did you find that? I thought I lost it!"

The song was not finished but as my eyes roamed on the lyrics, I had a bunch of ideas on how to actually complete it and I held my breath.

"I found it in my boxes... the ones from your place that you've had sent to my place." she explained, reaching out to put her fingers on top of my hand.

I stopped moving completely and my eyes dropped to our hands. I felt frozen in place, a bit startled by her behavior and not really knowing how to react.

"What are you doing?" I just asked, my eyes still staring at her fingers brushing gently against my hand.

"You're right. We should get back together, Niall." she added. "I mean, I know you're trying to make me jealous with her but let's be real. Who could really be jealous of her?"

Quickly, I shook my head and pulled my hand away from hers, mad that she would talk shit about my girlfriend again. "Do you even listen to yourself? You know damn well I'm with Liv and.. aren't you with Dylan? I love her, okay! I'm not trying to make anyone jealous, I'm just trying to love her the way she deserves to be loved... the way I failed to love her the first time. And you have nothing to do with any of this. What even makes you think I want to be with you?" I was frowning, getting pissed at her behavior, and I started wondering why I ever wanted to be with her in first place.

"Because of that song! You wrote it for me and put it in one of my boxes for me to find!"

I rolled my eyes, angry that she could even think I wrote one song about her.

"I wrote this about Olivia! I wrote that in the first week I saw her again at the bakery after not seeing her for over a year. It isn't about you, Heidi. It got in one of your boxes by mistake!" I explained a bit rudely, looking in her eyes to make sure she understood. "I love Olivia, not you. You need to let it go, okay? And those instagram posts you make.. For fuck's sake, Heidi! What's the point? Make me feel bad? Alright, I'm sorry I cheated on you, I should have broken up with you before and that was a mistake, okay? Now please, leave me the fuck alone."

Without giving her time to answer, I got up and left her by herself at the table before hiding in Liv's dressing room. I searched for a pen, my heart racing as I feared I'd forget the words dancing around in my head, and finally found one before leaning against the counter. I started scribbling fast, almost dropping the pen a few times as I held my breath. I scratched the first line and quickly replaced it to 'Maybe we are the champagne lovers' and went to the chorus to add a few lines, too.

'So come on love me when the lights burn low Meet me underneath the sheets Cause you got a hold of me baby, enough to pull me back in deep You used to love me when the lights burned low Now we’re tearing at the seams We've both had enough of this, baby, so promise me that when you leave You won’t say you’ll come back to me.'

I stared at the words and re-read them a few times before licking my lips. I was still lost in my thoughts when the door opened and I jumped a little, turning to see my girlfriend walking in. I sent her a fond smile and moved up from the counter as she wrapped her arms around me. I held her close, the paper burning on my fingertips, and kissed the top of her head.

I couldn't stop thinking about the lyrics and remembered exactly how I felt when I wrote most of the song. I missed her and I missed what we had. I didn't like where we were and I couldn't believe she was marrying someone else. The parts about sheets I had added reminded me of when we would hide under the covers and we had done it quite often in the past few weeks, making the whole meaning even more powerful.

"How did it go?"

"Not bad for now." she admitted, moving away. "But I think we'll film the rest an other day. It took longer than it was supposed to."

"Good, then maybe Heidi won't be there when you film the final scene." I suggested, raising my eyebrows.

"Hopefully." she replied with a smile before frowning. "What's that?"

My traits softened and I brought the sheet up again to read the lyrics. "A song. For you."

"Can I hear it?" she asked making me look up. Her eyebrows were raised and she was biting her bottom lip. She was so endearing that I almost said yes.

"Soon, okay?. I need a piano for this one."

----

May 19th, 2018

Olivia actually slept a good part of the day and I ended up at the pub with Julia, who was back to California too since her tour was over. I had an other first part for the other half of the tour and I knew I was going to miss her dearly. It was not like me to be super emotional, but with time, Julia easily became one of my closest friends and traveling with her had been a blast. I couldn't pretend that the fact that she listened to me complain about my love life didn't help us to become closer but it would be a lie.

"Where's your girlfriend today? I wanted to see her." I felt my lips curl more as I looked at her and she frowned. "What?"

"Oh no it's just... hearing someone else call her my 'girlfriend' is very cool." I pointed out with a chuckle, scratching the back of my head, feeling a bit embarrassed. I couldn't believe I had said that.

"That's what she is now, right?" Julia asked with a small laugh. "That's what you've wanted for months. You've been complaining about it every single day!"

"What? Come on, don't exaggerate." I argued, raising my nose up.

"I'm not!" she laughed again before getting a bit more serious. "I'm very happy for you, Niall. Now it's time to move forward, you know?"

"Meaning?" I raised my eyebrows after taking a long sip of beer.

"Meaning... plan the future and don't fuck up."

I stared at her and nodded with a small smile. I knew she was right, and she was not the only one who told me to not fuck it all up this time. I really didn't intend to, and I knew I wouldn't. I had lost Olivia before, and I had learned from that. I was not going to lose her again.

I was a bit tipsy when I got back home but she didn't even notice me. I stared at her, wearing only one of my t-shirts and a pair of black panties, standing in front of the tv in the living room as old songs from the 90's played full volume in the background. I was pretty sure I recognized a Backstreet Boys song ending and just as I thought it couldn't be funnier, a Spice Girls song followed and she started dancing and singing very loudly. I started laughing but she didn't hear me because of how loud the music was and it made me happy to know I could watch her a few more minutes. She jumped on the couch and pretended to have a microphone as she sang the lyrics and tried to do the dance and when she just started dancing around my living room, I took a few steps closer and she jumped, putting one of her hands on her chest as if it would help slow down the beatings of her heart.

"Fuck, you scared me!" she let out with a chuckle after pausing the music.

I didn't say anything. I just stared at her with a fond smile, thinking of everything we went through and how much I loved her.

"Move in." I let out as she was taking a sip of wine.

She frowned and chuckled again. "What?"

"Move in with me. Here."

Her lips parted and her eyebrows raised before she let out the air from her lungs quickly from her mouth in a surprised way. She licked her lips and cleared her throat before putting her glass back on the coffee table and taking a step closer.

"Are you... sure you can handle that?"

I knew she was referring to the fact that we were different, but it didn't matter. Yea, she was messy and yea it was annoying, but it was such a small problem and I knew we could compromise. In fact, I knew we'd both be way happier if we lived together and I wanted it. I wanted it so bad I could feel it in my bones.

"Yes." I let out in a low tone. "I want your grumpy face in the morning. I want your way too sweet morning coffee... I-I want your mess all over my fucking house, Olivia. I want to smell you when I step foot here after a long work day. I want to start a life with you. I want you to have your own dressers, not just a few drawers in mine. I want to share everything I have with you. I want to share myself with you."

She pressed her lips together and swallowed and I could swear she was tearing up.

"I want all that, too." she admitted, tilting her head. "I want to spend my life with you, Niall."

My lips curled in a big smile. "Then let's take that step. Move in with me."

It took her about a minute but she finally just chuckled and shook her head. "Okay. Let's do this."

REQUESTS

(i changed the first one just a little bit hope its ok!)

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan story #niall horan writing #my fanfics #yam

66 notes · View notes

streets-in-paradise · 5 years ago

Text

Roadside Bet

American Gods and Percy Jackson crossover - Part 1

Word Count: 1767

Characters: Wednesday, Shadow, Eira ( Vanir demigoddess OC)

Relationships: Platonic.

Summary: Setted in season 1 of American Gods. Mr Wednesday takes his crew on a trip to New York hoping to recruit a powerful ally. Shadow starts asking questions about him and his curiosity unleashes a silly argument.

Warnings: Some ageists jokes, the camp half blood concept from Percy Jackson is interpreted in American Gods’s style.

Disclaimers: This serves as an introduction for my self indulgent attempt of writing fanfic including Sean Bean as Zeus in the American Gods universe. I couldn’t find fiction for Sean Bean’s Zeus and he’s so fine that I can't deal with it so I decided to include him in an idea I had previously in process for an American Gods fanfic. I apologise for any possible mistakes,english is not my native language and this is a translation.

Tags: @yerevasunclair. Our conversations about Sean’s Zeus inspired this. I’m tagging you in both parts. Thank you so much for the inspiration.

I hope you ‘ll enjoy this. Thanks for reading

With the exception of Wednesday's bad mood, the trip was not having any major setbacks. The old man was quite unbearable because he hated New York and its exorbitant modernity, but he knew that this was a trip he was obliged to take. If he closed the deal he set out to make, he would gain a powerful ally, perhaps the most powerful one available.

With only a few miles to go, he switched places with Shadow because he wanted to drive to relieve stress. Meanwhile, to alleviate the boredom during the break, he started to chat with Eira. The girl was sprawled out in the back seat listening to music on an old MP3 player dating from 2002. Shadow signaled her to take off a headset and pay attention to him. Listening to them, Mr. Wednesday rebuked her

“I told her to get rid of every modern toy before following us but she never listens. Eira!! Turn that rubbish off before I destroy it myself.”

“ Chill out, old man. This is ancient history technologically speaking. It doesn’t have wifi connection, or bluetooth, or anything. Nobody can try to track us through this, even the boy must have forgotten these things existed. It’s as safe as your car’s radio.” she replied in a tone that showed annoyance.

Shadow laughed, always amused to see the boss and his new co-worker arguing as a family. Wanting to pry into what she was hearing, he reached out to grab the earpiece she had taken out of her ear and placed it over his.

“ What’s that language? Greek, I think? “ he commented about the music

“Yeah, it 's greek. I’m getting ready for our next stop.” she explained.

“ Greeks? After what I experienced with the russians some time ago i thought we were going to New York to have a meeting with the japanese mafia or something like that. All your business partners seem to have a thing with extremely violent threats. “ he complained

“Don’t be so harsh with Bogo. Most people think he is scary and disgusting but i think he is great. He may be a bit of a psycho weirdo, he makes meat uncomfortable for everyone and sometimes he throws his cigarette smoke in your face but he is a very fun dude “

“ Bogo? Did you nicknamed him? He is a serial murderer who wants my head. “

“ We both live in Chicago, my mom tends to know everyone there and everyone knows her. I know him since i was a child, he is like a grumpy grandpa to me.”

That statement left him a bit shocked. Mainly because he did not imagine Czernobog being friendly to anyone or even being seen as friendly.

“ Do you know the greeks? “ he asked, taking the opportunity to prepare for what was to come

“ No, I never had the pleasure, that’s why I'm so excited. They do their own stuff by themselves, they don’t tend to be very cooperative with the rest. Need is what pushed everyone else to start cooperating and created the unstable bonds of solidarity you had seen so far. They have their own functional system, they don’t need help from anyone. Even if they were struggling i doubt they would ask for it or accept it.”

“ Very secretive people. How will we convince them to join Mr Wednesday? “

“ Let that to me, dear boy.” the boss interrupted . ”They never pick a side, not with us and not with the News. They are always pretending they are better than everyone else in that fake copy of their Olympus they made to themselves when all they actually have is a bunch of brats. If the big conflict starts they will have to choose one side and that’s where we enter.”

“I’m very curious about them "she added .” Their strategy is fascinating. They have a family business that keeps them standing for a very long time in conditions others would only dream to have. They adapted by being themselves without selling to the News.”

” So, greek mafia then? ” Shadow asked,curious and worried in equal amounts.

” Never call them like that ever again. That’s very insulting and they are famous for being very arrogant and easy to irritate. Theo will carbonize you if he hears you calling him a mob boss. ”

” Theo is their boss? He is the one we are visiting? ”

” That’s how we call him, nobody dares to use his full name in casual conversation so we picked a middle ground epithet between his tradition and ours. Names are powerful, Shadow. You don’t have to use them in vain. ” Eira explained. ” Honestly, I'm very excited to meet someone so powerful. Most of the still strong names out there had given up and sold their brands to the News but Theo and his people are still successful. They are living the lifestyle of the Old Country, or at least the closest copy they can get in America. Wednesday is salty because he was never able to agrupate our kind in a similar project. My work for him is the closest thing he got, I’m one of the very few children of his associates who got invested and that’s only because my mother kept me with her. I’m not precisely the rule, that’s why practically i grew up to be here now. ”

Shadow started to get severly worried .The repeated comment about the power of the people who were going to see kept him on his toes. He didn't want to get into any more trouble.

” Do you want to give me a list of stuff to avoid when facing this Theo? I’m starting to freak out a bit and I don't understand a shit of what you are saying except for “ he is powerful”. ” he asked her

” Don’t worry i will be there with you the whole time and i have more experience dealing with this sort of thing than you. Wednesday should have brought you to my mother’s home first instead of going straight to the russians when you visited our city. Don’t be scared, if you screw it up i will help you out”.

Wednesday did not missed the chance to give his own advice as well

” The best for both of you is to keep your mouths shut as much as you can. “ he warned. ”Smile, nod in agreement, answer only what it’s being asked of you in the moment. This goes especially for you, young lady. ” he concluded in an imperative tone.

” Why the sudden care? You didn’t when we were visiting others. Are you afraid of him? ” she teased.

” Never, how could you suggest that? I’m restraining you because I don't want you to shift the focus of our negotiation. Theo has a weakness for youthful maidens like you.” he replied, scolding her again.

” Then I should be the one negotiating with him.Wouldn’t be easier to convince him? ”

” They don’t make him particularly weak, they are his favourite distraction. He enjoys himself when they get affected by his charm. Our business is the war and nothing more. Less you talk, less chances of distracting him too much.”

Shadow was getting some entertainment with the discussion and intervened to give his opinion

” He doesn’t want this guy doing to you what he does to other women. ”he stated, mocking Wednesday. ” He wouldn’t admit it but he cares for you. He doesn’t want to see some horny old dude around you, thirsting over you and making you feel uncomfortable.”

” My concern is not her safety, it’s her loyalty what troubles me. She works for me, she represents me. I don’t want her to forget it in front of him.”

” Wednesday, he is older than you. ” Eira complained, trying to make him understand how ridiculous he sounded. ” Why would i care about him flirting with me? I’ll smile at him, pretend i’m pleased with his commentaries to keep him happy enough for you to close the deal and that’s all. It’s not the first time it happened, i’m used to casual flirting. Mad Sweeney had done it the few times we had seen each other, some others associates of yours do it sometimes. The people we see tend to get flirty, Shadow has experienced it as well. It’s part of the job. ”

” Mad Sweeney is a drunk loser, we are talking of real power here. Watch your steps and don’t embarrass me.” Wednesday insisted.

Shadow couldn’t stop laughing

” Is he truly afraid you would be seduced by a man older than him? He has to be kidding, he is one of the oldest men i ever meet so how old is the greek ? 95?”

” I may not be into the Technical Boy despite being closer in age terms to him than to most of the dudes we had dealt with but that doesn’t mean i’m into senior citizens. A middle ground is good, thanks. ” she joked, joining the mockery.

” You two are too young to understand some very important aspects of how things work here. I’m warning you before it’s too late.” Wednesday replicated.

” Whatever, thanks for the advice. I will have it in mind the next time an irresistable senior citizen shows up.You don’t know anything about my tastes in men and you are projecting your own crap on me. You may have a thing for girls of my age but not all of us get horny for grandpas. Some do and i don’t judge them but i’m not one of them.”

” Wait and see. ” the old man replied in the same mocking tone. ” I would like to bet. I did it when Shadow fought the leprechaun, now it’s your turn. ”

” We don’t have anything of value you may want.He just got out of jail and it’s not like mom would give me her Brisingamen just because i lost a bet to you. ”

” Shadow, are you in? ” the boss asked

” What would i win? ”

” If Eira feels condescendingly repulsed by the greek i double your weekly pay. If he charms her i discount a percentage .”

” If she doesn’t feel attracted to an old greek you duplicate my pay? Sure, i’m in. it is a safe bet, right?” he asked her

” He talks bullshit, i’m not interested. Go ahead.” she assured him

” I had never been happier standing in the middle of your silly fights. ”

The youngsters spent the rest of the trip making fun of Wednesday's ridiculous bet, sure they were going to win. The old man laughed in their faces, he was playing with them again.

Note: Theo is a name with two possible etymological origins, one greek and one germanic. A long time ago i read a theory that said the greek form Deos was associated with Zeus. I recently read that wasn’t the case but i still found it fitting for Zeus.

20 notes · View notes

aliciameade · 5 years ago

Text

To See The Sun With My Eyes Closed

Title: To See The Sun With My Eyes Closed Author: aliciameade Rating: M some hot and heavy kissing Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Beca can't shake one thought from her mind after she meets Chloe. That all she wants is her body on her mattress.

Inspiration via “Mattress” (Valley Girl Remix) feat. Allie X by Leland

(I don’t think I’ve ever written a mid-PP1 fic before??)

Also on AO3

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

I know it's getting close / To when the party ends / And everybody's hooking up And I hate it when you say I'm such a good friend / And that you call me when you're up Why do I always do this to myself / I let you go with someone else When all I want's my body on your mattress / Why do I always do this to myself I let you go with someone else When all I want's my body on your mattress

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“I’m soooo glad that I met you.” Chloe’s words, laden with alcohol, drift across Beca’s lips. She’s been pulled close—much too close for comfort—by this girl who, for a reason that Beca can’t quite ascertain, convinced her to audition for a lame singing group that she’s now a member of. “I think that we’re going to be really fast friends.”

“Well, you saw me naked, so…” she says with a wink. She’s still not sure what happened last week and why Chloe thought it was okay to burst into Beca’s shower, apparently lured by her voice like a siren. But, it had happened and while utterly mortified at the time, the encounter that remains seared on her brain is not one of embarrassment but intrigue smeared with lust.

After all, Chloe is an extremely attractive woman and the confidence she displayed (very literally) only added to her attractiveness.

They’re so close that she thinks Chloe might kiss her. It makes her heart race to imagine the possibility. She even considers being the one to initiate it. She struggles to keep her eyes off Chloe’s lips and she thinks she just might be bold enough to try it.

But before she musters enough courage, Chloe’s running her hands down Beca’s arms, declaring her need for a drink, slapping her own ass which she shakes at Beca, and is hopping down the stairs of the amphitheater to join her friends at a keg.

The exchange leaves Beca’s heart hammering in her chest just as it had a few days ago in the shower.

She spends the entirety of the event—“aca-initiation party” is a term she overhears more than once—avoiding socialization and nursing the beer that the annoying guy from her radio station internship pressed into her hand during a bout of uncomfortable flirtation. Her eyes (and thoughts) keep drifting to her new acquaintance, Chloe, and the company she was choosing to keep.

Chloe is a social butterfly; Beca isn’t surprised by that observation at all. She seems to flirt with almost everyone she crosses paths with; she’s not surprised by that either, though she’s maybe a touch disappointed that Chloe’s unprompted closeness isn’t unique to Beca.

A tall, handsome man becomes the final recipient of Chloe’s interest for the evening and Beca tries to not let her disdain be too apparent on her face when the pair begin making out a few rows away from her post. She thinks it might be the same guy who’d also joined her (and Chloe) in the shower, but it’s hard to tell.

She tries to ignore it and focus on the other embarrassing things happening at the party, but her eyes are repeatedly drawn to Chloe and the man attached to her face.

She walks back to her dorm as soon as she sees Chloe and her date sneak off, hand-in-hand, in the direction of the dorms.

When she crawls into bed, she can’t shake the singular thought rattling around in her brain: she wishes it was Chloe’s bed she was crawling into.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

A cappella nerds, as it turns out, like to party.

While she’s not convinced they’re not nerds, Beca is, at least, impressed with their propensity for alcohol-fueled fun.

Not that she particularly likes fun. Or fun with these people. Well, maybe there is one specific person she’s okay with.

She finds herself at a party in the backyard of the house belonging to their rival group, the Treblemakers, on a Friday night in early October. It’s already decorated for Halloween despite it being three weeks away and it takes precisely ten minutes for Beca to become irritated by the scream of the motion-activated ghost decoration hanging in a high-traffic area. It has yet to shut up since she arrived and she’s in the middle of devising a plan to kill it when something slams into her from behind, causing her to spill most of her drink onto the grass.

“What the—” She’s about to curse out the drunk who body-slammed her when she recognizes the patterned blouse covering the arms that are wrapped around her waist. “Dude!”

“Whatcha doing?”

Beca hopes the shiver that ripples up her spine at the way Chloe’s words hum past her ear isn’t noticed. She shifts a bit in time to the music to cover it up. It’s not easy to do, given Chloe’s hold on her, and if she hadn’t been busy trying to hide the way her body reacted to Chloe’s sudden embrace, she would have thought about the consequences of doing so.

“Oh, you’re dancing!” Chloe answers for her and she changes her hold on Beca from arms wrapped around her waist to hands on Beca’s hips, though her chin remains resting on Beca’s right shoulder. “Dance with me. You never dance with me.”

“We dance every day,” she says with an irritated sigh, though she starts to relax into their position and allows Chloe to lead from behind. “Aubrey has us in rehearsal three hours a day; or do you try to block it from your memory like me?”

There’s a rumbling, restrained laugh in her ear. “You knew what you were signing up for.”

“Did I, though?” she teases, though no, she didn’t know.

She hears Chloe’s response, a noncommittal hum that makes Beca smile with its unspoken admission of agreement. She finishes what little of her drink remains and tosses the plastic cup to the ever-growing pile on the ground and puts her hands over Chloe’s for a moment before settling into their dance.

Chloe isn’t wrong, Beca realizes. They really haven’t danced with each other, not like this. Not with Chloe’s hands tugging on Beca’s hips as if she’ll drift away and not with Beca’s ass pressing back against Chloe.

Their conversation—spoken, at least—fades in favor of the physical, dancing to the music blasting from giant speakers adorning the back of the house. When the song ends, Beca expects Chloe to move on, to go find a guy to dance with, but instead, she urges Beca to turn around and keep dancing as the playlist mixes into the next track.

Chloe smiles at her when she does it and adds a wink when she drapes her arms over Beca’s shoulders. It prevents too much distance between them and it makes Beca smile in return. This isn’t how Beca would dance with the other Bellas; that would happen in a group, with plenty of space separating her from them, and with attention paid to people outside that group.

This, though. Chloe’s attention is acutely on Beca and Beca’s is on Chloe. There is little distance separating them. When a guy shows up behind Chloe in an attempt to get her to dance, she shifts away from him and further into Beca’s space.

Beca’s mind begins to swim, to slip toward the thoughts she’s guiltily had a few late nights alone in bed. Thoughts of what it would be like to kiss her friend, of what she looks like beneath her clothes (though the sports bras and leggings Chloe often favors do most of the work for Beca), of what she might sound like when she whimpers or moans with pleasure.

“You’re staring.”

Beca blinks quickly and pulls back a few inches. She didn’t realize how close they’d become until she could no longer focus on Chloe’s face. They’re still dancing and her mind races with what to do, how to respond to Chloe’s call-out, a look of curious amusement on her face, when she hears it:

“Becaw!”

She grimaces and feels the moment between them evaporate.

“He likes you,” Chloe whispers with a wink before she extracts herself from Beca and leaves with a wave.

“No, wait—” but she’s already gone, and instead she has—

“Jesse.”

“Becaw!” he repeats again, proud of the unwelcome nickname he’s given her, as he moves into the space Chloe just vacated, a red solo cup in each hand.

Beca takes a noticeable step backward, though, and to his credit, he doesn’t follow and crowd her.

“It’s not enough that we spend nine hours a week together at the station; you always have to find me at these dumb aca-parties, huh?” She frowns as she says it, more at her casual use of “aca-” as a prefix than anything.

“You’re just so charming. How can I resist that face?” He smiles as he says it, pointing out her frown and, Beca thinks, he’s not a terrible person. Not by a long shot. He’s a teddy bear, really, and even a cute one with a good voice, but he just feels...vanilla. Boring. Predictable.

She immediately schools her face into as neutral of a look as she can. “Wish I could say the same.” She glances at the two cups he brought, her own hands feeling very empty with no Chloe to be touching. “Is one of those for me?”

He pulls the cups inward protectively, shooting her a look. “You literally just insulted me.”

“And you interrupted the conversation I was having.”

Something like a conversation, anyway.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh, giving in way too easily and handing a cup to her. It’s a behavior Beca knows all too well; it’s how she ended up knowing the people at this party. “I saw that guy spill your drink.”

She doesn’t comment on the fact that it was at least fifteen minutes ago that that had happened, if not longer. The beer is still cold, though, so it at least he hasn’t been holding it for fifteen-plus minutes waiting to make a move. Or whatever he’s doing. “Thanks.”

“You know, I don’t live in the house yet, because I’m a freshman, but I’m allowed to go inside.” His words are stilted.

She just stares at him.

“They have a hot tub. I mean, we. We have a hot tub. I can use it.”

“Cool,” she says with a nod. She takes another sip from her cup and glances around to find an excuse to exit this conversation.

“I could show you,” he says, pointing toward the house.

She lifts her eyebrows at that; she hadn’t expected him to be quite so bold. “I know what a hot tub looks like.”

The nerves that were already evident in his movements double and his pointing hand jerks back to run through his hair. “No? Yeah, no, of course you know what a hot tub looks like. I was just—”

Her roaming eyes finally spot Chloe, her intended excuse to exit this uncomfortable conversation, but the tall guy from her first aca-party is with her—it’s definitely the same guy that Chloe’d had with her in the shower, they’re close enough that she recognizes him—and with his hand on her waist and leaning down, it’s evident they’re about to kiss.

“Okay,” she says quickly, forcing a smile and her eyes off of that and onto Jesse.

His surprise is obvious, and she doesn’t blame him. She was shooting him down pretty directly “W—wait, really?”

She has to take a long drink of her beer, nearly half of it, to be able to respond. “Yeah, sure. Give me the grand tour.”

“Cool, yeah.” He reminds Beca of a puppy with his thinly veiled excitement. It’s flattering, at least. “Uh, shall we?” He gestures toward the house and takes a step toward her, awkwardly offering his hand like he’s not really offering it, just in case she rejects it.

She accepts it, though, and follows him across the yard and into the Treble house.

She does spare one thought toward Aubrey’s draconian rule about not hooking up with any Treblemaker, but most of her thoughts are on what’s happening between Chloe and Shower Guy behind her and how quickly she can get it out of her thoughts.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

She doesn’t hook up with him.

Not for his not trying.

By her count, Beca clocks him leaning in to try to kiss her three times during the tour of the house, each time happening in an empty bedroom (poor form on his part trying it while showing her the disgusting, smelly rooms belonging to college boys). He even made an attempt at suggesting there was no need for bathing suits to enjoy the hot tub situated oddly in the main room of the house.

She considers the proposition each time, but each time, she turns away or takes a step to put space between them. It just doesn’t feel right, even as a distraction or something out of spite.

She tells him she’s tired and needs rest before tomorrow’s seven-hour rehearsal after the hot tub invitation and to his credit, he doesn’t seem irritated. She knows most guys would have accused her of leading them on by now, and maybe she did at least a little bit. But instead of calling her a bitch or a tease when she glances back before stepping out of the house to go home, he waves at her wearing a dopey smile that makes Beca feel like he was happy just to spend time with her.

Her exit through the front door, so she can walk back to her dorm, doesn’t give her a final look at the party, but it’s still going strong. She doesn’t know if Chloe and Shower Guy are still there or still kissing, and she doesn’t really want to consider the possibility.

Or worse: that they’re not at the party because they went back to someone’s room.

Again.

She walks home alone (though not alone-alone; campus is crawling with students moving between parties and dorms) and is relieved that even Kimmy Jin seems to be out at an event of her own. It’s dark when she walks in and her roommate’s stark, clinically neat side of the room is empty.

“Thank God,” she says as she kicks off her shoes and strips down to her underwear to pull an old T-shirt over her head. She throws her bathrobe on and grabs her things to wash up before crawling into bed where she will definitely not be thinking about who might be in Chloe’s bed or whose bed Chloe might be in, and will definitely not be touching herself imagining it’s her, or her bed.

She hasn’t done that yet, crossed the line of fantasizing, but she’s just drunk, jealous, and irritated enough to do it.

Whatever energy that flowed between Chloe and her while they were dancing is also largely to blame.

So when she walks into the communal bathroom down the hall, she drops her toothpaste because Chloe’s at the sink washing her face.

It feels like the water Chloe’s splashing on her face is actually being dumped on Beca’s head and all her heat and annoyance rinse away to leave her feeling both ashamed and exposed.

Chloe glances her direction at the clatter of the tube of Colgate hitting the tile and then smiles in recognition. “Hey!” She turns off the faucet and reaches for the small towel draped over her shoulder to pat her face dry.

“Hey,” Beca says after clearing her throat while she stoops to grab her toothpaste. “Thought you’d still be at the party.” She hopes her tone is even and not betraying her earlier inappropriate thoughts or coming across as accusatory.

“And I thought you’d be doing the Walk of Shame tomorrow.” Chloe’s wearing a hint of a smirk as she says it and flips her towel back onto her shoulder. “I saw you sneak off into the house with Jesse.”

Beca huffs and walks to the sink next to Chloe’s to set down her things and start her pre-bedtime routine. “He wishes.”

“I bet he does.”

She glances sideways at Chloe to see her leaning against the sink casually, facing Beca. She hides the blush that she feels on her cheeks by ducking down to wash her face.

“You’re really trying to get under Aubrey’s skin, aren’t you?” Chloe continues. “She’s already texting me about it.”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” she says as she scrubs at her face before rinsing it. “And she’s not the boss of me. I can sleep with whoever I want.”

“So you slept with him?” Chloe’s question is spoken so quickly, Beca can barely register the words.

This time, her towel masks her reaction. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“So you slept with Shower Guy?” She tosses her towel onto the back of the sink and waits for an answer.

“Shower Guy?” Chloe’s surprisingly fidgety. “Do you mean Tom?”

“If Tom is the guy you brought naked into my shower, then yes.”

Chloe glances away for a few seconds. “I didn’t sleep with him. I mean, not tonight.”

“Right,” Beca says, busying herself with her toothbrush and toothpaste.

“What do you care?” Chloe’s words are clipped and get Beca’s attention.

“What do you care if I slept with Jesse?” she counters and shoves her toothbrush into her mouth.

Chloe pushes off the sink with a nudge of her hip and drops her arms to her sides. “Who says I care?”

Beca just rolls her eyes. Their conversation is devolving into bickering, though she doesn’t know why. She does know that she wants to stop talking about Chloe sleeping with Tom and Beca sleeping with Jesse. “Good night, Chloe.”

She sees Chloe set her jaw and press her lips into a thin line before nodding. “Good night. See you at rehearsal. 9:00 am, sharp.”

She shoos Chloe away with her free hand in irritation and watches in the mirror as she grabs her personal items and walks out the door, head held high.

Beca’s shoulders slump as soon as Chloe’s gone and she stares at herself in the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

She’s too irritated and confused by the tense words shared with Chloe to follow through with her nighttime plans.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Rehearsal is grueling.

Aubrey is on her ass the moment she walks in not more than two minutes late about her “behavior” at the party. Beca refuses to say she didn’t sleep with Jesse, on pure principle. She owes Aubrey no explanation or information about her sex life.

She doesn’t get kicked out, which is a surprise after what happened to Kori and Mary Elise. Instead, she and the entire group are subjected to an unfairly cruel marathon rehearsal and she’s certain she’s never sweat so much in her life.

“We are a singing group, right?” she manages to snap as she runs past Aubrey. “Why are we training for a decathlon?”

All the comment earns her is five more laps around the rehearsal space.

Chloe seems like her normal self, being everyone’s cheerleader as they work. If she’s still bothered by the exchange she and Beca had the night before, she doesn’t show it, but Beca still makes it a point to catch her when they’re finally dismissed (fifteen minutes later than scheduled).

“That was brutal,” she starts, standing next to Chloe while they pack up their stuff. She only glances her direction briefly; Chloe was in her usual rehearsal garb of a sports bra and leggings, and she had sweat just as much as Beca had. It was highly distracting.

“I tried to warn you.”

Beca doesn’t think Chloe warned her; mostly she implied Beca was irritating Aubrey, not that Aubrey would inflict an entire day of physical torture upon her because she talked to a boy at a party. Instead of saying that, though, she zips her bag, puts it over her shoulder, and turns to face her. She studiously works to keep her eyes on neutral territory. “Wanna walk back to Baker together? Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”

Chloe looks up at her, wisps of curling red hair that escaped her bun with her exertion sticking up all over in a way that is unfairly pretty, and smiles. “Sure. I definitely need a shower.”

“No shit,” Beca says with a laugh, gesturing at herself to not imply that Chloe needs a shower. Chloe is perfect.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca’s really not surprised with herself that she’s dumping her gear and grabbing her shower stuff the second she gets back to her room after leaving Chloe at her own. Is she maybe affected by the idea that she and Chloe could possibly be showering at the same time, something that hasn’t [knowingly] occurred since the day they met?

Absolutely not.

To prove it to herself, she sits down and waits ten minutes before walking to the showers, but despite the attempt to wait it out, she hears Chloe’s voice singing a Britney Spears song (a cappella, of course) the moment she opens the door.

She irritatingly can’t help herself from claiming the stall right next to the one she knows Chloe’s in and once she’s settled under the steaming spray, she knocks on the divider between them to interrupt the new song that Beca hates that she knows.

She hears Chloe’s startled yelp and smiles. “Who sings that song?” she asks.

There’s a short laugh a few seconds later. “Taylor Swift, why?”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

There’s a gasp of offense that borders on being a shriek followed by a hard slap of a hand against the metal wall between them. “Beca Mitchell, you take that back!”

Beca laughs and grabs her shampoo. “You know I don’t mean it,” she says after a few more seconds, unable to leave Chloe in the lurch for too long.

“Meanie,” Chloe pouts.

Silence settles between them other than Chloe’s quiet humming and Beca’s nearing the end of her shower when she finally works up the nerve to bring up their tense conversation. “Um, about last night.” Chloe’s humming stops. “I’m sorry if I was weird.”

“‘Weird’ is one way of putting it.”

“This whole college thing is new to me, you know?” It’s a bad excuse, not to mention weak. Bringing up Shower Guy—Tom—had nothing to do with being new to college life and everything to do with...well, she doesn’t let herself think about that.

Chloe’s extended silence makes her think she’s not buying it, but if she doesn’t, she doesn’t push it. “Well, apology accepted. I’m sorry, too.”

“Cool.” She hears Chloe’s shower turn off and realizes she’s been so distracted with their conversation she’s failed to progress past working shampoo into her hair and hurries through the rest of it.

She’s not surprised when she finds Chloe waiting for her, sitting in a bathrobe on the bench where people wait for showers to free up when Beca exits her stall, wrapped in her own fluffy robe. Chloe looks fresh-faced and bright-eyed and Beca’s sure she looks like a drowned rat. It’s unfair, truly.

“What’s up?” Beca says as she tights the belt around her waist.

“Nothing,” Chloe shrugs. “Figured I’d wait for you.” She stands and joins Beca as they walk toward the bathroom exit.

“Doing anything fun tonight?” Beca asks, hoping her question comes across innocuous-enough after last night and their apologies.

“Yeah, I’m going out for a bit. What about you?”

Beca hums. “My roommate went home for the weekend so tonight’s agenda includes a Law & Order: SVU marathon and an entire bag of Doritos.”

They pause outside Chloe’s door. “Cool Ranch or nacho?” Chloe asks; she’s wearing a look of absolute seriousness as if Beca’s answer is of utmost importance and it stikes Beca with irrational fear.

“Uh, nacho?”

Chloe’s face screws into one of offense. “Terrible.”

“Nacho Doritos are not terrible!” Beca says, immediately on the defense of her favorite snack. “How dare you.”

“I only speak the truth,” Chloe says breezily as she reaches for her doorknob. “Enjoy your gross chips.”

“Yeah, well, enjoy your...night!” Beca’s comeback fails miserably and she can tell Chloe’s holding back laughter as she disappears into her room. “Whatever,” she grumbles to herself before turning to stalk down the hallway, mad about Chloe insulting her chips.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca’s on her third episode of SVU when there’s a knock on her door. She groans and slides off her bed, not in the mood for some kind of prank the other students on her floor find hilarious.

“What?” she barks as she swings it open, ready to berate immaturity only to be met with surprised, wide eyes. “Oh, hey. Sorry.”

“What was that for?” Chloe asks, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

“I thought it was the ding-dong-ditchers,” she says, knowing Chloe’s been a victim of it just as much as she has. “I thought you were going out tonight?”

Chloe shrugs and holds up the blue bag of Cool Ranch Doritos she’d been hiding behind her back. “It was going to be lame.”

Beca laughs and steps aside to let her into her room. “I can’t promise you that this will be any less lame.”

“I’m willing to take my chances.” Chloe winks as she says it and strolls into Beca’s room.

She’s never been there before, never past the door, and Beca can tell she’s trying to disguise the fact that she’s checking out her room which makes a smile tug at Beca’s lips. She’s climbing on to Beca’s bed moments later to get comfortable, right in the spot Beca had been occupying because it was the most comfortable.

“Make yourself at home,” she says as she closes the door. “Want anything to drink?”

“I’ll take a beer.”

“I’m 19; I can’t keep beer in my room.” She opens her mini-fridge to survey its meager contents. “Gotta keep my nose clean this year so I can get out of here and move to LA,” she explains. “I have Coke, Dr. Pepper, and water.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re a freshman. Dr. Pepper, please.”

Beca grabs two cans of soda and joins Chloe on the bed, having to rearrange bags of chips, blankets, and pillows so they can both sit comfortably.

They settle into their viewing party after that, quiet save for the TV and the periodic crunch of chips with an occasional debate about who the criminal is or isn’t.

It’s hard for Beca to ignore their physical closeness. There’s only so much room on her small twin-sized bed and though their marathon began with a good bit of space between them, Chloe has worked her way closer with each suspenseful, violent, or upsetting moment. It began with her grabbing Beca’s forearm at an unexpected twist. A tense hostage negotiation had her gripping Beca’s thigh for dear life (she’s not sure she won’t have bruises tomorrow). And, most recently, an unexpected gunshot made Chloe leap into Beca’s side to hide her face in Beca’s shoulder and beg to be told when it was over.

Chloe hadn’t moved back into her own spot after that. She’d stayed, her arm wrapped up with Beca’s and her head on her shoulder once Beca reassured her the gory part was over.

It’s hard to ignore the way Chloe’s knee is hiked up a little, just enough so it can rest atop Beca’s with the way she’s curled into Beca’s side.

The closeness makes Beca’s heart race and she has to focus hard on the television screen in order to keep her breathing steady. It had been somewhat easy to ignore her crush on the woman to-date; their time together has, by and large, been spent with others: the Bellas, aca-nerds at parties, other students walking around campus. Rarely are they alone and secluded; not even in their moments in the communal showers.

The moment she lets the concept that they are, by the very definition, cuddling in her bed into her psyche she has to close her eyes and think about literally anything else. Sports. The Real Housewives. Her parents’ divorce.

She keeps them closed until she feels Chloe leaning against her more heavily, her breathing deep and even and Beca looks down to see Chloe’s fallen asleep.

It’s oddly calming even if it makes her heart pick up even more. She looks like an angel, long eyelashes resting against her cheeks, soft pink lips slightly parted, but most lovely of all is the way her hand is open, fingers slightly curved in a way that’s so inviting that Beca can’t resist fitting her own between them.

Chloe stirs at the touch though it’s little more than a brief squeeze of Beca’s hand and a shift of her head and then she’s once again still.

Beca’s at a loss as to what to do so she sits quietly, letting the television episode roll into the next though paying no attention to it. Chloe is warm against her and her slow, rhythmic breathing is so comforting that eventually, Beca’s nerves settle and she finds her own eyes growing heavy.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

She’s disoriented when she wakes. Her room isn’t dark; a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond is on the TV and it feels far too loud. She’s lying down and when she shifts, she’s met with resistance that for the briefest of moments strikes her with panic.

That is, until she discovers the resistance is caused by the arm draped over her waist and its owner who’s pressed closely against Beca’s back.

Then it’s panic of a different kind. The kind that makes her freeze and not move another muscle lest she wakes Chloe and bring to an end the embrace they somehow slipped into in their sleep.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

When she wakes again it’s early morning and though the arm is gone from her waist, she can feel it pressing against her back. The TV is dark but she doesn’t remember turning it off. She longs to drag the morning out as much as she can but she can’t ignore the need to use the restroom.

She eases away as slowly as she can until she’s standing and she can turn around to see Chloe, sound asleep in her bed.

She sneaks out the door and is quick to return, only sparing a few extra seconds to deal with her disheveled morning appearance and rinse with a cup of mouthwash from the courtesy bottle.

To her relief, Chloe’s still there when she returns, but her sleepy eyes are open. “Morning,” she says as soon as Beca’s eyes land on her.

“Hey, good morning,” she replies and starts to cross the room and then stops when she realizes Chloe’s not making a move to get up and crawling back into bed with her, especially at this early hour, feels so very intimate. “Guess we fell asleep.”

Chloe nods and then she’s yawning, her body growing taut as she stretches and Beca can’t help but glance at how Chloe’s shirt rides up a few inches with the movement. “Come back to bed,” she says at the end of her yawn, voice squeaking in a way Beca wishes she didn’t find so cute.

It feels too casual, too normal for Chloe to say those words for how new their friendship is, to scoot backward to make more room for Beca in her small bed to further extend her invitation.

It’s that sensation of normalcy that gets her moving until she’s settling on her side, her back to Chloe again as they both get comfortable on the pillow they’re sharing.

“You’re all minty,” Chloe says after a minute or two, followed by a pinch to Beca’s side, right in the tender part, that makes her jump.

“Morning breath,” she says after swallowing.

Fingertips scrabble up her back. “Thinking about kissing me awake?”

Beca’s entire self feels like it ignites, heat rushing through her in a full-body blush. She just wasn’t wanting to make a bad first-morning impression. Such a thought hadn’t even entered her mind at the time, but it’s now the only thing she can think about.

She scoffs when she realizes she’s taking too long to reply. “What? Dude, no.”

There’s a quiet hum behind her and Chloe’s arm settles over her once again. Beca’s awake for it this time and the feeling of Chloe reaching to pull her close, intentionally holding her while they lay in bed together following that question, makes butterflies stir in her chest.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca doesn’t understand why there are so many a cappella parties. She’d thought that after the winter break, the four groups would buckle down—whatever that means in a cappella terms—to focus on the impending semifinals, but no. It seems that as the stress of competition (not that she’s stressed about their dumb competition) increases, so does the need to release that stress.

To Beca, they’re an excuse to get free beer and hang out with Chloe in a safe (read: public), non-rehearsal environment.

By now, they’ve established a sort of routine at these parties. They arrive together. They part ways. One saves the other from an undesirable conversation when prompted with little more than a glance. They spend the rest of the night together, whether dancing, drinking, socializing, or once, swimming, until something brings the night to a close and they walk back to their dorm together.

Beca had taken notice as the weeks and months passed, that Chloe disappearing with Tom was occurring less and less frequently. It was a relief on multiple levels; not just because it meant Chloe wasn’t spending the night with Tom, but also because she wouldn’t have to spend time talking to Jesse until she found an excuse to leave. The boy had a special talent for finding Beca unaccompanied.

But above all, it meant that Beca and Chloe were spending the majority of their time together, whether rehearsing or not. And over the course of all those weeks, Beca’s noticed their dynamic changing, not by leaps and bounds daily but by tiny movements. Tiny movements that have added up to leaps and bounds, from Beca recoiling in horror the first time they met to Beca dropping everything to help, talk to, or otherwise spend time with Chloe.

And she’s noticed Chloe is quick to do just the same.

It’s confusing. She’s never connected with anyone so strongly before, and she continually finds herself wondering if what she feels is the kindred spirit of a best friend or if she wants something more.

Correction: she knows she wants Chloe; she doesn’t want to confess such a thing and lose a best friend. Not that she knows how to confess feelings anyway. She hates feelings. They’re gross. They make her feel vulnerable and weak.

Chloe makes her feel vulnerable, too. But it’s different. She maybe even feels strength in that vulnerability.

She just needs Chloe to make the first move if someone’s going to make one.

Beca thinks she’s given her ample opportunities to-date but nothing’s happened yet. It’s with that in mind that she resolves, at the pre-Spring Break bash, to open the metaphorical door so wide that if Chloe doesn’t cross its threshold, Beca will close it once and for all.

She’s terrified from the moment she makes the decision until she and Chloe are drinking shots of tequila in unison and everything melts away until the only thing that matters is simply being in Chloe’s orbit.

Beca pulls Chloe by her hand onto the trampled grass of the Trebles’ backyard to dance, an action she knows thrills Chloe who always tells Beca how much she likes dancing with her. The liquid courage spurs Beca to pull Chloe close before they’ve even settled into the song.

“You’re in a mood,” Chloe says, the corner of her mouth turning upward.

Beca rests her arms around Chloe’s shoulders and makes eye contact with her. “You could say that.”

She sees Chloe arch an eyebrow but instead of pressing the matter, Chloe just falls into step and runs a hand through her hair in an unfairly sexy manner.

Beca considers the fact that what she’s doing could be considered throwing herself at Chloe, that is, if she didn’t hold on to that one last thread. Like letting her hands wander up and down Chloe’s back, but never below her waist. Like slipping her knee between Chloe’s thighs but not actually doing anything because, at face value, it just makes dancing close easier. Like having an extra button on her shirt undone and wearing her best bra that gives her amazing but natural-looking cleavage and her most flattering jeans.

It only takes a few seconds for Chloe’s hands to land where they always do: on Beca’s waist.

Dancing with Chloe has come to be second nature to Beca, and she’s pretty sure Chloe would agree. She knows it helps that they work on actual choreography all the time for the Bellas, but they don’t choreograph the way they dance together at parties or in clubs. It feels like they have, though; it doesn’t require any conscious thought to know how Chloe is going to move and when. Beca doesn’t have to think about stepping to her left when Chloe is stepping to her right.

It’s a cool evening but Beca’s warm. She’s warm from moving, warm from the way Chloe’s hands travel between her waist and her ribs, warm from the way Chloe’s eyes are on hers to stare with such intensity, she’s actually afraid to look away from them.

She’s warm from how close they are right now. She doesn’t know how many songs have passed, only that they’re so close and so aligned that she can feel Chloe’s thigh between her own, bumping her leg as they move which only makes her grow even warmer.

Chloe’s eyes slip for the quickest moment from Beca’s and she thinks maybe she glanced at her lips, or maybe even her cleavage. It was too quick to know and Beca doesn’t let on that she noticed. If Chloe wants to look, she wants her to look. She’s been inviting her to look all night. She does wet her lips after a few seconds; it’s a subconscious response but she’s aware of it happening and she catches Chloe’s gaze drift again.

It’s difficult to be sure as Chloe’s amazingly long eyelashes are great at concealing where she’s looking when her eyes are cast down, so, running on instinct and adrenaline, Beca lets her teeth catch her bottom lip, just for a second or two.

Chloe’s eyes snap back to hers immediately and then she’s mirroring Beca, teeth pulling at her own bottom lip until it slips free and her tongue swipes over it.

Beca can’t keep her eyes off Chloe’s lips after that; she tries, glancing up now and then but Chloe’s eyes are no longer her focus. Chloe’s lips hold that now and she’s acutely aware and uncaring if Chloe notices. Maybe she wants her to notice.

She definitely wants her to notice.

She knows Chloe notices when she sees her teeth pull at her lip again the same moment her hands tighten around Beca’s waist.

They’re still dancing, but it’s an afterthought. There’s noise around them, and people, but it all sounds miles away. Her arms shift where they’ve been resting over Chloe’s shoulders; they push forward to loop around her neck. It also brings them even closer together.

Chloe’s head tilts, just a fraction, just enough for Beca to catch it. A tilt to the left. A slight lift of her chin. Enough to make Beca’s pulse start to race.

She mirrors the change and she sees Chloe’s lips twitch into the hint of a smile. It makes Beca’s hands unlock from holding her own wrists behind Chloe’s neck to push them into her hair. Chloe’s eyes flutter closed at the touch and after a few seconds of admiration, so do Beca’s.

“What are we doing?” Chloe says, little more than a mumble as Beca feels the heat of fingertips under the edge of her shirt, pressing into the bare skin of her lower back.

“Um…” Beca’s not sure she can answer that; their lips are so close that she felt the words.

“Bec?”

“Hmm?” She’s waiting for it, for the soft warmth of Chloe’s lips to follow the heat of her words when she senses Chloe pull back. Beca’s eyes flutter open to find Chloe watching her intently. It’s only then that she realizes they’ve stopped dancing.

When Chloe takes a step backward Beca feels the hot sting of rejection but Chloe’s hand catches hers before she’s out of reach and she has no choice but to follow. She doesn’t know where Chloe’s leading them; frankly, she doesn’t really care. She feels intoxicated but the tequila is long burned out of her system. This is something different, something that’s making her dizzy but not sick.

They’re walking along the hedge that runs next to the house when Chloe halts abruptly, causing Beca to stop just short of running into her. When Chloe turns, Beca expects her to say something, to explain why they’ve left the party, to repeat her question to Beca.

Instead, Chloe’s free hand plants itself in the center of Beca’s chest, against the bare skin of her boldly unbuttoned shirt, and pushes, making her stumble backward until her back hits the side of the house.

“Oh, my God,” escapes her mouth before she realizes the words could mean the action was unwelcome when it’s the exact opposite. She can’t figure out what words to use to clarify her outburst so instead, she squeezes the hand Chloe’s still holding and gives it a tug. If pulling Chloe closer now, here, after everything isn’t clear enough, then they’re both hopeless.

She pulls Chloe in until she’s so close, their chests grazing when either of them inhale and grabs Chloe’s hip with her free hand to keep her there. Even in the dark away from the lights of the party, she can see the color in Chloe’s cheeks, can see how heavy her eyes seem and Beca’s sure she must appear much the same. Her heart feels like it might pound right out of her body. She wonders if Chloe can hear it, or even feel it against her own chest.

Those dark eyes are on her own, their conversation unspoken and Beca knows Chloe finally understands what she’s been trying to make clear all night. Maybe what she’s been trying—with less conviction or confidence than tonight—to make clear for months.

The hand that had pushed her up against the house shifts down for the briefest of moments, the heel of Chloe’s hand dipping into the beginning of the valley between her breasts to make Beca’s breath catch before it moves north, fingertips dancing along Beca’s throat until they’re on the back of her neck, sneaking up into her hair.

She whimpers. Or she thinks she does; maybe it was Chloe. It could have been; her lips are parted when Beca glances down at them.

That’s when it happens.

Chloe surges forward, her lips finding Beca’s.

Beca knows for certain it’s herself she hears whimper then. The desperate force actually knocks her head back against the side of the house but there’s no pain. Nothing hurts now. Not as Chloe’s lips move against her own in a kiss Beca’s been waiting for since the day they met.

She shakes her hand loose from Chloe’s so she can use it, so she can bring it up to frame Chloe’s face. The knowledge that Chloe has wanted this—or at least wants it now—emboldens her to find a better angle and let her tongue brush Chloe’s bottom lip.

Chloe invites her in immediately and Beca shivers when Chloe’s tongue meets hers. Fingers slide further into her hair and Beca does the same, pushing through soft cinnamon curls as their kiss grows in intensity.

Chloe’s hips press against her and it makes her shift her stance so their legs fit together like when they dance. Her fingers pull at Chloe’s waist as if she could possibly get any closer until, on sheer instinct, her hand slides down over the curve of Chloe’s ass to grab it unabashedly and pull just as she bends her knee to lift and press her thigh against Chloe.

A sharp gasp breaks the relative silence as Chloe’s mouth twists away from Beca’s. Their eyes meet and for a moment, Beca thinks she may have done something wrong until Chloe’s fingers twist so harshly into Beca’s hair that she winces as Chloe pulls her head to the side. It exposes more of her neck and Beca lets her eyes close again as Chloe’s mouth drops to it. Lips and tongue and gentle teeth move along her skin and Beca can hear herself breathing, quick and shallow breaths that match Chloe’s as Chloe accepts the rhythm of Beca’s hand against her. The thought that Chloe likes it, is basically riding her thigh, makes her already damp underwear soak through. It makes her hips move, too, and Chloe’s leg isn’t nestled closely enough to give her anything but the barest of contact.

It’s maddening but she doesn’t want to do anything that will take away the pleasure she knows she’s giving Chloe. Instead, the hand not tangled in her hair doing little more than cradling her head as she attacks Beca’s neck travels up Chloe’s side until she feels the band of a bra through the fabric of her shirt. It’s too tempting and too easy to follow it until the backs of her fingers are grazing the edge of a curve. She hesitates there, soaking in the warmth she feels and letting a moan escape her lips when Chloe’s tongue is particularly gentle and teasing against her skin.

“Touch me.” The words are whispered but they ring in Beca’s ears loudly. Chloe’s hand finds Beca’s where it’s hesitating and guides it higher until it’s pressing Beca’s hand against her breast.

This time, it’s Chloe who moans but Beca echoes it. She wonders just how far this is going to go here, now, out in the open as Chloe’s mouth is on hers again. It’s more a curiosity than a concern; she really doesn’t care who sees them. But as the palm of her hand feels the stiff peak of Chloe’s breast, she has a desperate need to migrate elsewhere. It’s a need that grows exponentially when Chloe, with none of the hesitation Beca had shown, finds Beca’s left breast to squeeze it with urgency. Most of her fingertips are on bare skin where Beca’s shirt has shifted; heat follows everywhere her those fingertips go, from the swell of Beca’s breast to her throat, to the valley of her cleavage and to her other breast.

Chloe’s mouth leaves hers again and moves right to her ear, lips on her earlobe and tongue tracing the shell and over the piercings. “God, you’re so hot,” she breathes just as she presses her thigh forward against Beca.

So desperate for the contact, it almost makes Beca’s knees buckle which settles her more heavily astride Chloe, leg pressing the thick seam of Beca’s jeans against her in a way that makes her hips buck.

Chloe’s assault of her senses stops abruptly; she doesn’t pull back, she just...stops and it takes Beca several seconds until she can open her eyes.

Once she can focus, she sees that Chloe is staring at her, eyes wild, hair mussed, lips a dark pink and shining in the dim lighting.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asks, eyes searching Beca’s for something.

The question confuses her; why wouldn’t she be okay? “Yeah,” she says after swallowing. “Are you?” she adds, enough clarity seeping in to register Chloe’s checking on her and maybe she should do the same.

Chloe nods and leans in to kiss her again but this time it’s slow, and soft, and gentle and she pulls back too soon for Beca’s liking, but she forgives her quickly.

“Do you maybe want to go?” are Chloe’s next words and Beca feels dizzy again. Thankfully, Chloe still has her pinned against the house to keep her upright.

“Go where?” she asks; she wants Chloe to mean what she hopes she means and that she’s not suggesting they go back to the party.

Chloe’s hands are back on her waist, warm where they rest beneath Beca’s shirt. “Is your roommate home?” Chloe asks.

Beca feels the back of her head connect with the house again, falling back to look down her nose at Chloe who’s waiting for her answer with as much anticipation as Beca feels. “I don’t know,” she says after searching her memory for any conversation that she may have had about her roommate’s plans tonight and finding nothing. “Is yours?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe answers, a whine entering her voice and the fact that Chloe is perhaps as desperate as she is rattles Beca. Her mind races, thinking of possibilities like the bedrooms in the Trebles’ house (gross), staying where they are (uncomfortable and not private), or going to Chloe’s car in the dorm parking lot.

It’s not the worst solution, all things considered.

“Okay,” she says, still working on catching her breath. “Okay, let’s just go see if they’re home or not.”

Her suggestion makes Chloe melt into her for another long, deep kiss until they’re detangling from each other. Beca has to tug at the legs of her jeans to bring them down from where they’ve ridden up and she watches Chloe do the same. It makes her crack up for some reason and Chloe’s quick to follow, both of them dissolving into fits of giggles of nervous excitement.

They start walking back toward Baker Hall, Beca’s arm around Chloe’s waist, and Beca notices Chloe tugging her phone out of her pocket and open up a new text.

“Why don’t you text Kimmy Jin and ask if she’s there,” Chloe says when she notices Beca’s curiosity.

“I don’t have her number.”

Chloe tsks at her and shoots off a text to, Beca assumes, her roommate.

A minute or two pass in silence until it becomes too heavy between them and Chloe breaks it. “Nothing has to happen, you know.”

Beca turns her head to look at her, though Chloe’s facing forward. Why Chloe thinks Beca might feel like she’s being pressured into something is beyond her, especially since Beca was the one laying the physical flirtation on thick all night. “I’m here, aren’t I?” she says, as if it should be obvious.

“I know,” Chloe says. Beca notices they’re only a few blocks from their dorm and her anticipation starts to grow again. “But we’ve been drinking.”

That’s a fair consideration. People do things they regret when they’ve been drinking, things they would never do sober. And that could be true, except that in Beca’s case, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

It’s Chloe’s turn to look over, and she’s wearing a bit of a smirk. “You have?”

Beca shrugs and tucks her fingertips into the front pocket of Chloe’s jeans, as though she’s making a point, though the prospect of having to talk about it in detail makes her self-conscious. “Shut up.”

“Beca.” Chloe’s voice is teasing and slow, like syrup.

“Don’t,” she says with a groan because she knows Chloe’s gearing up to tease her. “Can we just...can you just accept it and let it go?”

“Oh, I’ll happily accept it,” Chloe says with a proud toss of her hair. Then she’s rounding on Beca to stop right in front of her. “But I’m not going to let it go,” she finishes as she leans in to kiss her and Beca meets her halfway.

Beca pulls back when things are edging toward too hot and heavy for the sidewalk. “C’mon, let’s go.” She takes Chloe’s hand and leads for a few steps before catches up. “Did your roommate text you back?”

Chloe checks her phone while Beca opens the door to the lobby to let her pass first. Chloe makes a sound of excitement, a borderline squeal, and her pace picks up considerably as they stride toward the elevator. “She’s spending the night at her boyfriend’s.”

“Oh, thank God,” Beca exhales and follows Chloe into the elevator where she punches the button for their floor before turning right into the kiss she knows Chloe’s anticipating. “Mine’s probably home,” she says between kisses.

“We’d have found a place,” Chloe says, breath already quickening as their kisses grow in urgency.

“Thought about your car,” Beca says as her hands find Chloe’s ass again to tug her closer.

Chloe hums and then says, “I thought about the shower.”

Beca had somehow overlooked that particular option but the possibility, the very concept of it, moves through her like fire. “Fuck,” she says before kissing Chloe harder.

“Mmm, noted,” Chloe says with an evil smirk as she pulls away, grabbing Beca’s hand to yank her out of the elevator and down the hall toward Chloe’s room. “But I want you in my bed first.”

The End

#bechloe #bechloe fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #fanfic

173 notes · View notes