#and here’s a hint; it’s a different pov from paul ;)

[longing4yesterday]

i’ve just seen a face has reached 1k hits!!! 🎉🎉🎉 thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed it these past few months <333!!!

[a-multi-fandom-maniac]

Trust Me

(gif created by me)

Paring: The Riddler x reader

Requested by @yourcaptainkira64 :

“Hello, can I request a paul dano riddler fic if you write for him. Tropes I like are forced proximity and friends to lovers. Maybe even a yandere riddler of you're up for that (because he's kinda crazy). Lol happy writing!

Warnings: Themes of obsession, stalking, swearing, mentions of injuries, forced proximity (?), hints of one-sided love, friends to lovers, no use of y/n, first person pov.

Note: My first post! I hope that this is okay, I’ve only seen the movie like twice so I hope this fits your request😅 I also just googled riddles so I’m sorry if they’re kinda stupid LOL, enjoy! <3

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The nights were long, and seemingly never ending.

Crime, murder, vengeance; The city of Gotham was the birth place and home to the bad seeds and the innocents, though nowadays it was difficult to differentiate the two from each other. If you’ve lived here as long as I have, you learn to never trust what someone claims themselves to be…no matter how well you know them.

It was nearing 3am at the Gotham general hospital, marking the twelfth hour of my shift. An attempted store robbery turned shootout nightmare landed twenty-three people in the hospital; no fatalities, but a few close calls. Originally today was an off day for me, but we’re understaffed and the crime rates are rising once more.

But then again, what’s new?

I slumped back into the old chair in the empty break room, reflecting back on my night. Hour after hour of running from room to room while the police are breathing down your neck isn’t the easiest thing to deal with, but someone has to get it done. I love what I do, honest, but there’s times where I question myself…but then again doesn’t everyone?

I drag hands down my face as a half-hearted attempt to rid myself from the pure exhaustion taking over my body when I heard my phone ding. I sigh as I lazily reach for it from the pocket of my scrubs and unlock it, as a small tired smile reaches my face.

It was Edward. He’s been my friend since I made the move to Gotham from where I used to live. We’ve gotten close over the years, while many say he’s…different-I find him kind.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary to check in on my while I was at the hospital, but it was a little odd that he was up this late. I opened the message to see what he sent.

Huh.

It was a photo of the sky. You could barely make out some stars peaking out from behind the stormy, smog ridden clouds- but they were there. Typically, Edward would send a little joke or something like that while I was at work but scenery pictures were new. I began to type a reply when suddenly he sent a follow up message.

Edward: What blooms like a flower whenever it rains but shrivels up when it stops?

I scoff out a small laugh. A riddle, what else would I have expected. On most days I love trying to solve his riddles, but tonight drained me of any energy I had left to try to solve it. I sent back a poor attempt of an answer as I gathered my things and approached the entrance to leave when my phone went off once more.

I slowed down to look back to my screen and upon reading the message, my body began to feel a sense of…something.

Edward: An umbrella. Make sure to use the red one outside of the entrance, it’s there specially for you. Get home safely.

I reread the message twice while looking around the almost empty sterile halls that surrounded me. I slowly approached the automatic sliding doors as my ears picked up on the heavy pelting of rain hitting the concrete. The flickering outdoor lights provided an eerie ambience as my eyes jumped from left to right until-

Ding!

Edward: To the right is where you’ll find what you need.

My heart spiked as I whipped my head around in all directions, observing. He had to be here, how would he know?

“Edward?” I quietly called out.

No response.

My chest begins to feel tight as a newfound feeling overcomes me. Something I had never felt before around Edward.

Fear.

Eventually, the lights stabilize themselves for long enough for me to notice the splash of red contrasting against the wet sidewalk. I drag myself over in the direction of it, making sure to be aware of my surroundings as I pick up the object.

An red umbrella, the one from his message. I was frozen in place. In the moment, this didn’t feel like a simple act of kindness. It felt scary; like a dream where you know it will become a nightmare at any given second.

“What the hell?” I whisper, voice shaking.

Suddenly, there was a startling bang to my left as I felt my legs move on their own. I began running as fast as I could, dropping the umbrella in my moment of panic. The only thing I could think of in that moment was the desperate urge to be safe in my apartment until the sun rose.

By the time I reached my place my heart was nearly beating out of my chest as water dripped from my face as I locked the door. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t speak, and I couldn’t even put together a coherent thought. I let myself shut my eyes for a second before clumsily reaching for the light switch to the left of me and flicked it on. I peeled my eyes open as I adjusted to the light, when I stopped breathing at the sight before me.

Spread across my living room were pictures of me. Everywhere. Pictures of me going to work, me sitting in my living room, even me out on a coffee date with a guy my friend set me up with. My throat was dry as sandpaper as I tried to swallow my fear and walk closer. My legs shook like jello and it felt like I could feel my bones rattling inside my body. I slowly reached my hand towards a picture as I brought it to my face to examine it.

It was the coffee date image…except red marker was aggressively scribbled over my date while a big circled surrounded my smiling face, drops of ink spilling down to the bottom of the picture. I dropped it as if it was on fire as I backed away. I continued examining my apartment when I spotted a light yellow envelope on my coffee table.

I picked it up and turned it around, it was addressed to me with a smiley face next to it. I ripped the envelope open and reached my hand into it, pulling out the contents within.

It was a card?

“Okay..” I breathed out, feeling a little relieved. There was a picture of a caricature heart on the front with the words: what is mine that only you can have?

I tried to think, but my mind was foggy with unease. I opened the card.

My heart <3

I began to inch backwards, trying to calm down. This couldn’t have been from him, no it was too..too crazy. Edward wasn’t crazy! He was a sweet guy who worked in forensics and liked stupid jokes and riddles. He wasn’t capable of-

My back suddenly made contact with something behind me as I loudly gasped and flipped around, heart sinking in my chest down to my churning stomach.

A green figure loomed over my shaking body, eyes burning holes through my head as we stared at each other. I couldn’t see the intruder’s face, but I knew those eyes anywhere.

“Edward?,” I shakily whispered, seemingly stuck in my spot. My brain was screaming at me to run and get out of there, but my body was stuck in place like my shoes were glued to the floor, “what..what are you doing?”

He called out my name as he reached out to me. He placed his green faux leather covered hand on my face, moving down to caress my cheek. I should have ran, but I couldn’t help but feel my stomach flip in some weird way.

“You made it safely,” he said, smiled evident in his muffled voice. His eyes were squinted happily from behind his clear framed glasses, “I was worried about you when you didn’t take the umbrella I left you.”

He paused as his piercing gaze subtly hardened as he continued looking into my eyes.

“Why didn’t you take it?”

My breathing began picking up again. I hesitated for a moment before speaking up.

“Edward-“

“NO!” he suddenly yelled as he backed up, pacing around the open space of my living room. My heart stopped as my body jerked at his sudden outburst.

“I tried to help you! I’m looking out for you so no one else needs to, why can’t you just see that?”

He stopped his pacing as he came back over to where I was stood. He, surprisingly, gently grabbed my arms as he looked back into my eyes.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted; For you to be safe with me. No one else,” he said with a forceful undertone to his voice.

I felt tears making themselves known in my eyes, and the burn of my nose trying not to cry. I was terrified, but at the same time comforted by his words.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I whispered, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

His eyes seemed to soften as his grip loosened on my arms, but still keeping me in place.

“No,” he said while repeating my name, “no no why would you think that? All of this is for you! I would never dream of hurting you, you mean too much to me. I care too much about you to let you slip away from me.”

Oh.

Oh.

He…cares about me. I should be scared. I should be terrified out of my mind and screaming for help, praying someone will answer. Or that the signal would light up in the sky and I would be saved.

But I didn’t feel afraid from his words.

I sniffled as I scanned up when down his body, examining what he was wearing and then back up to his eyes. I slowly reached for his glasses and mask as his body stilled while I revealed his face.

Edward. It really was him.

I looked at his face in silence before finally speaking.

“You won’t hurt me?” I quietly asked, “I need to know if I’m in danger, no matter how much I know and trust you.”

He suddenly had a dark look in his eyes as my words. He cupped my cheeks in his hands as he leaned in close to my face.

“I would rather die than cause you any harm.” he answered, “Trust me when I say that I will keep you safe from anyone or anything that tries to hurt you.” He paused and leaned in closer.

“I would kill anyone who even looked at you the wrong way.”

He moved his face next to my ear.

“You have my heart, and I know that I have yours.”

My breath hitched at his words. He was right. Edward always made me the happiest whenever I was stressed, especially at the hospital. But could I bring myself to love him when this is his true self?

He pulled away and looked into my eyes once more. It felt as if he could read every thought going through my mind.

“Just let go and let me take care of you, let me love you,” he begged, a desperate look in his eyes, “that’s all I ask. Please trust me.”

I couldn’t look away. I gave a small smile and a hesitant nod, and that’s all it took.

“Okay,” I whispered, mind racing a million miles a minute.

“I’ll trust you.”

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[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Opposites Attract (Paul Lahote x Reader) Chapter 3

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Warnings: Swearing

Word Count” 2.1k

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-Your POV-

They were running at a speed that seemed impossible, their size alone, impossible. The shear beauty of the animal, breath taking. This wasn’t the first time you’d dreamt of giant wolves. They visited your dreams frequently, leaving you with all sorts of un answered questions, leaving you the next day, searching “What does seeing giant wolves in your dreams mean?” Yup, you were that kinda girl. You thought there was an answer for everything, and there probably was, but you weren’t going to find the answer on google search. 

You don’t know how long you’d been in the car for. All you knew was you were in pain, then it seemed to ease and a sense of comfort washed over you. Your head felt as if it were floating, snuggled into something warm and soft. A pillow perhaps? You didn’t open your eyes to check, the pain in your abdomen and now across your whole body blinding, you’d woken a few times with a jolt, and then you passed out again. 

The next time you woke up you weren’t moving at all, which you were grateful for, the pain mixed with the motion of a moving vehicle didn’t do anything for your stomach, travel sickness was the bane of your life. Instead you found yourself in a room, the blinds drawn closed, the door shut, your body, in different clothes. A mens t-shirt? When did you get changed? Where were you? You looked around in a daze, sitting up slightly from the comfort of the pale yellow duvet set. Wooden log walls, photo frames scattered on every surface, subtle lighting and a wall lined with books, the smell of home cooking wafting through from the kitchen. You were in Emily and Sam’s guest room, how did you know this? Well for one all of the frames had pictures of the happy couple in, two, you’d stayed over once before, back when you’d been caught in a freak storm with Leah while on the beach. You vaguely remembered the place. You didn’t come over often, what with Leah and Sams history, that and as much as you liked Paul, sometimes you’d be nervous to bump into him. Paul! Speaking of Paul, you groaned and flopped back into the fluffy bed sheets. Paul was at the hotel when the pain started… where was he now? Did he drive with you back home? 

You were about to get up when Leah came bounding through the door. “Oh good I thought I could hear you awake in here.” She grinned at you. “You look like you’re feeling much better!” You pat the space beside you and Leah climbed in snuggling up to your side. 

“So, on a scale of one to ten how bad was it.” The big ‘It’ being how bad was the show in front of your long term crush. Leah shrugged as she looked at you. 

“Nothing was baddd… everyone was just worried about you, you seemed to be in some serious pain, hence why we thought it best to cut the trip short, it’s probably better that were home, it was early hours when we got here so Sam said we could just crash at his.” You raised your eye at you best friend. She was being awfully calm about the whole situation. She said Sams name in a sentence and didn’t get herself worked up. You looked down at yourself. 

“And the clothes? Or lack there of….” That’s when Leah grinned. You didn’t like the way she was looking at you. You inhaled the scent that was on the shirt. Sandel wood and aftershave, a hint of sea salt probably from the misty air outside. 

“That’s Pauls t-shirt Y/N” Your eyes went wide and you knew you were blushing.. did that mean he had undressed you. Leah noticed the panic in your eyes.

“Before you get worked up he just leant the t-shirt knowing you’d be uncomfortable in your dress, I changed you.” You audibly gave a sigh of relief, not knowing how you’d react if the guy you’d been in love with since second grade had finally seen you in your underwear. “He stayed in here with you last night you know, to make sure you were okay. He wouldn’t leave.” Leah was now proper up on one arm looking at you. You didn’t know what to make of it. You didn’t think Paul had even known you existed… You were taken from your train of thought when something started dinging. The mobile on the bedside table started beeping as texts came through one by one. Oh god, you hoped Leah hadn’t told your parents about your episode at the hotel, the last thing you needed was for them to worry. However, you realised when you picked it up, it wasn’t your phone. 

The screensaver was a picture of the guys from the res, all goofing around, it looked like it had actually been taken in Emilys kitchen. It had to be one of the guys. You realised it was Paul’s after remembering what Leah had said about him staying for some of the night. He must have forgotten it when he left. You didn’t mean to see the message but it automatically came up on screen when you tilted the Iphone in your hand.

“Such a shame we had to cancel our date last night handsome, still on for tonight?” There were a bunch of emojis next to the text, the purple devil, aubergine, water droplets. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out whoever this girl was motives were. At first you were embarrassed, to the point where your mouth was kinda slack and Leah was asking you what was wrong. Then you were pissed. 

“He’s such a dick, honestly. I don’t know why this makes him a dick, i’m just so mad. I know I’m not the prettiest, or the funniest, or most talented or anything but jesus christ I wish he would just notice me for once instead of these girls who will put out at the drop of a freakin hat!” Leah had taken the phone from you to see what you were talking about. She groaned and then noticed your whole body was shaking, in a flash she was at the door calling for Sam and the others. All you could see was red. Your vision totally blank, the covers under your hands balled up in your fists tight, your body shaking, heating up. Somewhere in the background you could hear someone shouting at you to calm down, but this time you couldn’t. You heard the sound of ripping and then all of a sudden the world around you changed. For one, everything in the room seemed to get smaller, or maybe you got bigger? You were still angry and started lashing out, only to be tackled by something from the side, leading you to smash through the wall of the wooden house. You still didn’t understand what was happening, until you heard them in your head. 

“Y/N CALM DOWN! We know this is scary but you need to calm down.” It was Sams voice. In your head. Or maybe, the voice was coming from the 8ft black wolf hovering over you. You didn’t scream, you didn’t even seem scared, and it’s because you realised, you were a wolf too. 

-Paul’s POV-

Y/N was safe, sleeping soundly in the room next door, or so Paul thought. It wasn’t until he heard the shouting that he knew something was wrong. Leah called for help and before he knew what had happened there was a bang and Sam was tackling a wolf on the ground outside the house. 

A white wolf. Small, slim, bright, with a single grey patch of fur around an eye. Paul shifted instantly, realising the unknown wolf in front of him was in fact his imprint. He let out a low growl to Sam, even though he was the Alpha, Paul didn’t like the fact he’d just tackled his girl. He looked her over, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth almost comically, all the while Y/N stood staring and the grey wolf now in front of her, he could hear through the bond that she’d just imprinted, feel it too. Now she knew. 

-Your POV-

“Hold the fuck up.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Part of you couldn’t tell if you were in a dream or had just gone plain crazy. The other part of you knew that everything was real but you just couldn’t process the information quick enough. “So you’re telling me, that our ancestors were these shapeshifters and the gene was passed down to us to allow us to shift into giant wolves and hunt down vampires. You know, Vampires, ‘I want to suck you blood’, creepy pale strong immortal beings with no soul? And werewolves, I mean, Shifters..” It was insane. 

“Anddd to top it off, the man i’ve had a crush on since 2nd grade is my imprint, the person I’m supposed to be with for the rest of my life?” You glared at Paul who had the audacity to wink in your direction. Looking around you noticed the other faces, all amused at your outburst. Okay, so this wasn’t a joke, it was some sick reality you were now a part of. You hadn’t looked in Leah’s direction yet, pissed that your best friend had kept such a massive secret from you. Obviously you knew it wasn’t her fault, she wasn’t aloud to tell you the tribes secret, they didn’t know that you would be another female shifter, apparently your kind were rare. It still stung a little. 

“What really sucks thought Y/N, is that you’re gonna have to cut you beautiful hair short, our human hair mimics the length of our wolf hair, hence why each of us one by one cut it all off.” Quil sat back and shrugged and Paul growled lowly, not lowly enough for heightened hearing. 

“Why now. Why. I-I have school and I have things I want to do with my life.. I can’t be a shifter..” Reality had started to sink in and you found it difficult to breath. It felt like everyone in the room was staring at you and it didn’t help that you could also hear what everyone was basically saying. Your chair was pushed back with a screech, falling over and hitting the wooden floor. 

“I-I need to get out of here, I need a minute..” You were out the door in a flash, Leah and the boys running after you. Somewhere in the distance you could make out Sam telling Paul to calm down and then heard what sounded like wolves shifting but you’d already made it to the tree line, being able to run faster than you’d imagined still in your human form. 

The air was colder the higher up you got. You didn’t know how long you’d been running for but it had been a couple of hours before you finally stopped. In the middle of nowhere, high up in the mountains you let out a scream, one that sent flocks of birds fleeing from trees, the notes of your anguish scattering in the breeze. Everything would be changing now, life as you once knew it was gone. Part of yourself would never be yours again, having to follow a pack system. Another part of you was giddy at the thought that the man you’d been in love with your whole life turned out to be the one destined for you all along, it only took shifting into a wolf for you both to realise just how compatible you were.

You’d been alone with your thoughts long enough when you heard a twig snap in the distance. The hairs on your arms stood up and your heart started beating rapidly, turning, you calmed when you noticed a familiar figure walk out into the open. 

“Paul.” You could feel the bond running through your veins, seeing him helped you breath better and the physical need and urge to be in his arms was too strong. Like he sensed it too, he was over to you in a flash, taking you in his arms, your body pressed against his, his nose buried in your hair breathing in your scent, like he was saving it to memory. 

“Y/N, it’s all going to be okay, I promise, nothing bad will ever happen to you while i’m around, I know it seems scary now, but it won’t be like this forever. You’re already so strong, and I’m lucky that fate paired me with you.”

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Yoooo. I hope you liked this chapter, I’ve had some writers block recently, just trying to keep going. I’m still not sure what direction I’m taking this fic, I do know however that this is set at the beginning of eclipse! So watch out for some vampire action!

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[tlbodine]

What exactly is 'character voice'? Is it merely a character having opinions on things? And how do I have good voice if I am writing in first or third person omnipresent? Do I give the narrator's opinion on things? The character's opinions? The different opinions of the characters?

Voice is a tricky thing to pin down -- a bit of a “know it when you see it” type thing. But I’ll see if I can break it down a bit. 

First: Stories will contain both “authorial voice” and “character voice.” Authorial voice is the individual writing style of the author, and you’ll start to notice it most strongly after you’ve read multiple works by one author. Character voice on the other hand is unique to the character. A strong character voice will often overshadow the author’s voice, which is usually a good thing! It keeps every book you read from an author from sounding the same. If you’re reading a book in first person or close third POV, the narrative should be in the character’s voice. If you’re reading it in a more omniscient POV, the narrative might have a very different voice. Books that alternate POVs might have different voices for different perspectives, so that you could tell who’s speaking even if the chapters weren’t labeled. 

But OK. What makes up Voice in writing? 

Opinions. Characters with a strong voice have opinions about the world, and those opinions color the way they see things. They don’t sit and tell you how they feel, but instead deliver the world through the lens of those opinions.

Focus. What a character chooses to pay attention to vs ignore in the world around them. This gives an underlying glimpse at what is important to them. 

Word Choice. On a structural level, voice comes down to word choice, grammar, syntax, etc. being used with purpose to create a cumulative effect. 

Books without a strong voice sound dry, like a technical manual or book report. They lack any poetic devices or colorful insights.  A strong voice is one that doesn’t sound generic, which means it’s not usually “correct” from, say, a middle school English class perspective. (In fact, some young writers may often butt heads with teachers over the use of voice in writing -- I know I did. Once you get good at it, 

It might just be easier to show this in action than try to explain it so...

Carrie, by Stephen King: 

She had tried to fit. She had defied Momma in a hundred little ways had tried to erase the redplague circle that had been drawn around her from the first day she had left the controlled environment of the small house on Carlin Street and had walked up to the Barker Street Grammar School with her Bible under her arm. She could still remember that day, the stares, and the sudden, awful silence when she had gotten down on her knees before lunch in the school cafeteria -- the laughter had begun on that day and had echoed up through the years. 

Carrie calls her mother “Momma” even in her head, which already implies a lot about her socioeconomic class, upbringing, and intelligence. She didn’t try to fit in, she tried to ‘fit’ -- a non-idiomatic description. The run-on second sentence gives a hint of a racing thought. “Redplague” as one word is evocative and more powerful than a more drawn-out metaphor might be. 

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams 

Mr. L. Prosser was, as they say, only human. In other words he was a carbon-based bipedal life form descended from an ape. More specifically he was forty, fat and shabby, and worked for the local council. Curiously enough, though he didn’t know it, he was also a direct male-line descendant of Genghis Khan, though intervening generations and racial mixing had so juggled his genes that he had no discernible Mongoloid characteristics, and the only vestiges left in Mr. L. Prosser of his mighty ancestry were a pronounced stoutness about the tum and predilection for little fur hats. 

Comedy lives or dies on the strength of its voice, and Douglas Adams is a master at a very specific type of comedy. Here we see it on display. Prosser is an antagonist, and he’s here being described in a way that suggests, without stating outright, that he’s quite pathetic. We open with a cliche saying, and then immediately deconstruct it in a way that’s overly precise -- a technique of absurdism. Then we compare him to Genghis Khan (also a villain, and a very strong one) in a side-by-side parallel that definitely paints Prosser unflatteringly (his genes are “juggled,” a word that evokes clownishness) and the “little fur hats” detail is the icing on the cake -- imagine standing beside Genghis Khan and the ONLY thing you have in common is the hat! (”Predilection” is also a fussy-sounding word. “Stoutness about the tum” sounds like a childishly euphemistic protest, sort of like “big-boned” but dialed up to 11). 

The Cabin at the End of the World, by Paul Tremblay 

Wen’s eighth birthday is in six days. Her dads not so secretly wonder (she has overheard them discussing this) if the day is her actual date of birth or one assigned to her by the orphanage in China’s Hubei Province. For her age she is in the fifty-sixth percentile for height and forty-second for weight, or at least she was when she went to the pediatrician six months ago. She made Dr. Meyer explain the context of those numbers in detail. As pleased as she was to be above the fifty-line for height, she was angry to be below it for weight. Wen is as direct and determined as she is athletic and wiry, often besting her dads in battles of wills and in scripted wrestling matches on their bed. her eyes are a deep, dark brown, with thin caterpillar eyebrows that wiggle on their own. Along the right edge of her philtrum is the hint of a scar that is only visible in a certain light and if you know to look for it (so she is told). The thin white slash is the remaining evidence of a cleft lip repaired with multiple surgeries between the ages of two and four. She remembers the first and final trips to the hospital, but not the ones in between. That those middle visits and procedures have been somehow lost bothers her. Wen is friendly, outgoing, and as goofy as any other child her age, but isn’t easy with her reconstructed smiles. Her smiles have to be earned. 

The thing I love about Tremblay’s writing style is how wonderfully understated it is. At first blush, it seems very straightforward and precise. But the details work to give such a rich image beyond what’s on the page -- like one of those paintings that creates a cat with just like, two brushstrokes of ink. This paragraph is jam-packed with information -- the character’s age, race, adoption, gay parents -- but also illustrates her character indirectly: a kid who is interested in precise numbers, competitive in a specific way, self-conscious, skeptical. Little lines really stand out, like “caterpillar eyebrows” and “reconstructed smiles.” 

Horrorstor, by Grady Hendrix 

It was dawn, and the zombies were stumbling through the parking lot, streaming toward the massive beige box at the far end. Later they’d be resurrected by megadoses of Starbucks, but for now they were the barely living dead. Their causes of death differed: hangovers, nightmares, strung out from epic online gaming sessions, circadian rhythms broken by late-night TV, children who couldn’t stop crying, neighbors partying til 4 a.m., broken hearts, unpaid bills, roads not taken, sick dogs, deployed daughters, ailing parents, midnight ice cream binges. 

But every morning, five days a week (seven during the holidays), they dragged themselves here, to the one thing in their lives that never changed, the one thing that they could count on come rain, or shine, or dead pets, or divorce: work. 

This is the opening of the book, and it does a perfect job of setting the tone for the story -- a combination of humor and horror, a lighthearted touch on a really dismal subject. Like the Douglas Adams example, it relies on an excess of hyper-specific detail to create comedy through absurdism. Describing the store they wrok at as a “massive beige box” says a lot -- beige is a boring color, box is a boring shape (and implies constraint, the opposite of “think outside the box” etc.) Calling the workers “zombies” and using zombie words (”stumbling”, “streaming”) invokes a specific set of concepts -- mindlessness, for starters, and death -- and using that to describe going to a job certainly implies something about what it’s like to go to work, right? This paragraph could just come outright and say “work is soul-sucking and pointless and takes you away from things that are important” but it illustrates that instead. A perfect example of “show don’t tell” in action. 

Hopefully that gives a bit more illustration to what I’m talking about. As you read, pay attention to the way things are said and how that varies from one book to the next, and you’ll get a better intuition for voice (and learn to craft your own through practice). 

Some general tips/things to think about when creating strong voice for your narrative and characters: 

Education and socioeconomic level of the characters. A professor will talk differently from a car mechanic; a college graduate sounds different from an elementary school student; an inner-city black teen will use words differently from a New England socialite. Think about what kind of background a character has and choose vocabulary and syntax that makes sense for them. 

Evocative descriptions. Words come with baggage, and good writing puts that baggage to use to create a meaning stronger than what’s on the page. Precision with language, not just what words mean but what they imply, is the hallmark of good writing. 

Words used uniquely -- in other words, avoiding cliches and descriptions we’ve seen before in favor of creating new word combinations that do the heavy lifting of the previous bullet point. 

Hopefully that helps! 

[lonestarbabe]

Hey Elise! I apologize if you’ve already answered this but I just found your blog (so hi! I love it!). But what are your hopes for season 2? Tarlos related and everyone related. Again if you already answer I’ll just scroll!

Helllllo!! I’m so glad to see you here! Welcome. I’ve answered it at least in passing (my tag season 2 expectations has some posts on this) but I don’t know that I’ve ever listed it straight out so here we go...

More information in general on Marjan, Paul, and Mateo because I feel like I barely know them. So in general I’d just like to see some personal storylines for them. And I’d like to see them behind just their identities ( DREAMer, Trans man, Muslim woman). I do want to see storylines related to these use ties (because you can’t detach those things from them) but I also want to see them deal with other things because they’re much more than those identities and surely attribute other important things to themselves so I’m interested to see how the show will balance those storylines.

More of Grace independent storylines where her issues are actually addressed and it all doesn’t revolve around Judd. More of who she is and what motivates her. I also love seeing her do her job and help people who call 911.

I’d like the show to at least show that Judd is not fully over his PTSD because even with therapy I don’t want it to just drop off. They can ease how often he has issues because that feels plausible but I don’t want them to just forget it.

Flashbacks! Maybe not like the ___ begins. But I do love a good flashback and seeing where characters came from.

I want Owen and TK to address some of their lingering issues because I don’t think that’s at all resolved because it seems to me they kind of push their issues away, and TK avoids it because of things like guilt and not wanting to hurt his father (who already has cancer) more while Owen went through a terrible trauma which clearly still impacts him in certain ways (which I guess is what I want to see from Judd too to show these things never just stop impacting people)

Carlos development and seeing him as a character outside of Michelle or TK. I also feel like I don’t know that much about him other than he’s a lovely man.

Domestic Tarlos is a dream of mine. Just want to see some tender moments and conversations separate from something purely dramatic.

I want to see Tarlos talking through issues. I do not like the idea of an in and off and back on again relationship that shows love to use for couples (that tend to be toxic). Please just let the relationship drama be normal couple stuff and not have them break up just because they get into a fight.

I hope to have a better Michelle storyline that gives us more into some new parts of her character because I feel like we didn’t see her outside of the Iris thing enough. Although, I wouldn’t be mad about more Iris in general I just don’t want it to overwhelm the story.

To see something happen with the Owen cancer storyline. I feel like it’s been glazed over a bit but at the same time, I’m not sure how they’re going to handle it or how I would want this to be handled because I have mixed feelings.

Some kind of addressing if TK’s mental health issues because I don’t think those have been resolved and I’d like to see maybe therapy or something to do with his addiction. I mean he really has some serious issues and they seem somewhat chronic so I’d like to see that continue into season two because his problems still feel very fresh. He too has been through a lot and was just shot so I want to see that emotional pain and him working through some things.

I want to see the characters being dynamic. I want to see them being multifaceted and reacting to various situations. Some of the characters are flat so far just because we haven’t seen enough of them. I want to see them be great but I also love seeing flaws (like Carlos needs flaws also Owen needs to be shown in maybe a light where he’s not always the hero and he has some darker moments because while we get glimpses that he’s not perfect, these complaints are often brushed aside because he’s a hero like with the convo with TK, so basically I’d like him to take accountability for some of his wrongs).

More team bonding!! I want to see them teasing and being there for each other. I want to see their relationships grow into deeper ones. We’ve taken a lot of good steps forward but I want to see more support and love. Perhaps even some friction that normal families would have.

BUTTERCUP. I’ve said this before (and I don’t really expect it) but an episode through Buttercup’s POV would be so cool.

More of the paramedics!! Because they’re pretty cool.

Lots of cool calls. And I’d like them to have that same dark humor that a lot of them did in season 1 because they had me laughing so much!

Cute Tarlos moments galore, showing them getting to know each other and growing as a couple and I also want vulnerable moments where we see them opening up to each other. COMMUNICATION in general is just so sexy and I love it.

Carlos making those dry, sexy comments would make me happy.

Some beautiful written scripts like the finale.

Lots of parallels. I loved how many season 1 had and I loved how cohesive many of the episodes were.

Great dialogue in general and diverse conversations between different combinations of characters.

I’d like some visually powerful scenes where actions and the setting and cinematography speak louder than words.

(Kind of like the one above) Subtlety... I love subtle moments that really tell a lot and hint at things without being explicit. I don’t want it to be completely in code or vague but moments of this is beautiful.

I don’t want the drama to be too overdone when it comes to the characters’ lives (though writers tend to be dramatic) so is like to see them dealing with common problems (which may feel huge and can be shown that wya through good writing and what these things mean to the characters). You don’t have to have a big explosion hurt a character to show a character going through stuff.

I like angst but not when it doesn’t lead to anything. So all angst should some how develop the characters because I love character development. I don’t want the characters to stay the same. I want to see that they change and adapt and ultimately grow even though they may make mistakes or relapse or backtrack.

Thank you for giving me the chance to let these all out, Nonnie!

[go-events]

GO Rom Com Spotlight: @wyvernquill

The amazing @wyvernquill (also WyvernQuill on AO3) has claimed Ruby Sparks to adapt for Good Omens in the Good Omens Rom Com Event.

For reference, here’s a little background about the source material!

About Ruby Sparks: Young author Calvin Weir-Fields (Paul Dano), once a literary darling, is having trouble composing his next novel. Following a therapist's advice, Calvin pulls out an old manual typewriter and creates a vivacious, flame-haired woman he dubs Ruby Sparks (Zoe Kazan). Overnight, Ruby leaps from the page into Calvin's home as a real flesh-and-blood woman. And, what's more, she's unaware that she's actually a fictional character and that her actions and feelings are dictated by whatever Calvin writes.

We spent some time chatting about how the adaptation is coming so far, as well as future plans for it! Now, get to know @wyvernquill a little better!

* * *

goromcom: Let’s begin with what Tumblr can tell me about you. You know how if you open a Tumblr chat with someone you haven't chatted to before, Tumblr tells you two things they post about? I wanted to tell you that yours reports that you post "about #fanart and #illustration". I really admire people who can draw *and* write. Do you enjoy one more than the other?

wyvernquill: Oh, don't ask me to choose between my brain-children! I love both for different reasons, and find some ideas are easier to express in writing, others through drawing; though I also love to combine the two by illustrating my fics or writing something based on some random thing I sketched during class. (I'm also a very quick artist, while my fics tend to balloon out of proportion - so "doing a quick illustration in an hour" and "writing a 102k epic" are two very different and really rather incomparable experiences!)

goromcom: Oh goodness, yes. Two very different creative outlets! But for now, let’s talk about writing. You chose to adapt Ruby Sparks as your rom com. Has this movie been a favorite of yours, or is there some other reason you chose it? 

wyvernquill: Cards on the table? I never heard of this movie before. I got very close to writing the fic without having seen it once, and only watched it a week or so ago. (And even then... it's not a *bad* movie, but, personally, I didn't grow attached to the characters at all. Just didn't really appeal to my tastes, I guess.) So, why Ruby Sparks?

Well, I made a List, capital L for significance. In the 12 hours before claims, I researched the plots of every single movie up for claiming - most of which I never heard of, clearly I don't watch enough romcoms - and categorised them into "absolutely not" "mmmmmaybe?" and "possibly", making my way through IMDB short descriptions and Wikipedia pages until the List was down to the top 10; most of which were movies I'd seen or at least heard of - except Ruby Sparks, which I chose for the simple reason that I'd ALREADY written an "accidental" AU of it.

The premise was exactly the same as roughly 3k of unfinished Doctor Who fic I scribbled together and never published, even though I was quite fond of it. I figured I could re-use my favourite elements of that fic, work off the base premise rather than the movie itself, and see where writing takes me.

goromcom: That is quite a ride! I’m a big proponent of re-introducing or recycling ideas or material that you find compelling but weren’t quite able to use before! It’s like, eco-awareness for your mind. :)

Given your history with this movie, this might be an odd question, but: What's your favorite moment of your movie, and are you looking forward to presenting it in your adaptation? Any loose plans for that scene that you can share?

wyvernquill: For reasons already outlined above, this isn't really based directly on any scene of the movie, but I think Aziraphale writing his idea of a "perfect husband" (and a progressively more thinly-veiled self-insert as the main character) will be a delight!

I greatly enjoy having the subjective perception of POV characters and objective reality be comically different - "I'm an excellent cook," he said, scraping the burned remnants of what could really no longer be called an omelette onto a plate - so I think I'll have some fun there. Maybe Aziraphale will defend his Artistic Vision (And Not Wish Fulfillment At All Shut Up) to someone? I'm not sure yet.

goromcom: I have a feeling I know the answer, but let me ask it anyway. Do you plan to stick very closely to the beats of the original story, or make bigger changes?

wyvernquill: Bigger changes, definitely. I might pluck an idea or two from the movie - and, surprisingly, the rough progression of events was pretty close to what I planned anyway - but it'll be rather different. (See next answer - I might well take more from Mary Shelley than from Ruby Sparks!)

Also, I'm still a bit undecided on this, but I might actually have Aziraphale publish some of his writing about Crowley from the start, something which doesn't happen in the movie until the very end.

goromcom: What's an interesting decision you've made in your planning so far--a notable casting decision, a changing of venue, or some other plan you have to paint Good Omens all over your rom com?

wyvernquill: Well, the moral of the movie was more or less that Writer Guy--no, I don't even remember his name!--has to overcome his controlling half-neurotic nature so he can be happy both among his more easy-going family and with the freespirited Ruby. Instead, I intend to have Aziraphale struggling a la Modern Prometheus (what does it mean to create life, to play God, to have a Creature that thinks for itself?), creating a subplot that is more overtly philosophical and thought-provoking, with a hint of religiosity - the essence of what GO is to me.(Meaning the final conflict will not be Writer Guy warping Ruby into a helpless parody of herself, but instead Aziraphale growing afraid of Crowley, who's beginning to show traits he never wrote for him, attempting to "erase" him again before he loses control entirely... but it all ends happily, don't worry! ;))

goromcom: Those are some pretty interesting ideas you’re playing with! I’m looking forward to reading it. But let’s not give too much away, and move on to my last question. I am blatantly stealing this from The Good Place: The Podcast, but here goes: Tell me something "good". It can be something big or small. It can be a charity you think is doing good work, or you can talk about how great your pet is.

wyvernquill: Oh, the temptation to talk about my four darling cats is Real(tm)... but instead, I want to give a little shout-out to the absolutely fantasticamazingbrilliant teacher at my university who offered a course on fanfic and fandom studies this past term, and who is letting me write my term paper on the Ineffable Fandom!!!

She's the best, lots of fun to discuss with, and research for the paper - deadline in two weeks, I've not yet started writing it, let's hope I get it finished speedily! - is an absolute delight.

(The only difficulty will be staying within the page limit... there's just so much to write about with this wonderful fandom.)

Her course was the highlight of my week, and fan studies (unsurprisingly!) turned out to be a field that really interests me. So thank you so much, Ms Fanfic Teacher, I'm very grateful for... just about everything!!! ^-^ <3

goromcom: That sounds like a fantastic class and an even better teacher. You have to admire the people who go that extra mile to inspire and lift up their students, and get them actually excited about learning.

And you know what else is going to be fantastic? The GO adaptation of Ruby Sparks, coming soon!

[fiesta-freddie]

December Nights| Paul x Reader

Request: Hey I was wondering if I could request Paul x reader? They can either be in a relationship or not but basically the reader from Paul’s pov? Like she can be messing about and joking with the others and Paul’s just admiring her and realising how much he loves her? Just really fluffy.. your writing is really good too btw thank you!

Summary: Paul has has liked you for quite some time now. He realizes how much his love was grown for you and decides to take action, and who knows maybe it was a good idea

A/N: If you didn’t pick up on it in the request, this whole thing is from Paul’s point of view. It was a little different than what I’m used to doing so sorry if it didn’t turn out the best, but I kinda like it! Let me know what you think of it! Feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy!

******

“-so I told him, it’s called Arthur!”

Everyone broke out into a fit of laughter after George’s comment. I watched as Y/N sat beside me laughing too, admiring all her breath taking features. I watched as her cheeks became full with color and how her lips formed into that beautiful smile she wore so often. She could light up an entire room with that smile. It was the kind that was contagious, one look at it and suddenly you were happy, no matter what mood you were in.

We all sat at a large round table in the corner of a small pub. It was a way to escape from the outside world for a night, especially since it was warm inside and it was getting colder outside as the night progressed. The fact it was getting closer to winter too didn’t help.

It was later in the evening and only a few other groups of people were in the pub. Music played in the background as small talk filled the room. Busboys walked around collecting empty glasses from tables and brining new ones as well.

“Well, its getting pretty late I should be heading out now. Thank you all for the lovely evening.” Y/N said in her sweet and soft voice. It was like music to my ears whenever she talked. Her voice was so calm and innocent. “I’ll see you all at the studio tomorrow?”

“You bet love, we’ll see you there!” Ringo responded to her. Everyone else nodded as they said their goodbyes. I watched as she walked out the door and into the dark. The streetlights shining through the small crack where she had slipped out.

I sat at the table for a few seconds after Y/N walked out the door, before standing up. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna head out too. Its getting pretty late, ya know.”

“So soon Paul?” George asked me from across the table, a hint of suspicion in his voice

“Yeah yer usually one of the last to leave.” John joined in

“Well ya know, its getting pretty late and we’ve all gotta be in the studio tomorrow. I’m just gonna call it a night, plus you know that Eppy won’t be happy if we come in hungover.” I only received grumbles in response

“Well I guess if you must go, then we’ll see ya tomorrow Macca?” John said more than asked. I gave him a nod in response before waving goodbye and quickly heading out the door.

As soon as I stepped outside, the cold hit my face sending goosebumps throughout my body. I quickly walked down the sidewalk in the direction Y/N had gone, hoping that I would run into her along the way. Continuing to walk, I saw a small figure only a few feet ahead of me. I called out to it, hoping that it was Y/N I was talking to and not some random stranger.

“Y/N love, is that you?” I called out. I could see the breath escaping my mouth as I spoke

The figure turned around quickly in response to my words. “Paul?” It was Y/N! “What are you doing out here?” she questioned me “I thought you were going to stay at the pub a little longer?”

“Yeah, I though I would call it quits early tonight. Eppy isn't to happy when we come in the studio hungover anyways.” I said shrugging and walking over to her.

I stood in front of Y/N, admiring her once again. Her eyes sparkled at the street lights reflected off of them. The tip of her nose was a rosy color as were her cheeks. Her lips were turning blue slowly and she was shivering just enough for me to tell that she was freezing cold, even if she didn't say anything. She wore her signature smile on her face which, despite it being cold outside, sent a warm feeling throughout me. 

“I see,” she nodded “its probably a good idea too. I can almost bet that tomorrow John’ll be the one who shows up with a hangover.” She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that one bit.” I chuckled along with her. 

“So, Y/N where exactly are you headed off to then?” I asked her. Where are you going? Really? Why would you ask that, Macca? Obviously shes going home.

“Oh well, I was actually just walking back home.”

“Right, I knew that.” I said with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of my neck

“I don’t suppose you’d like to walk with me, would you? Its only a few blocks away.” Y/N asked. Her teeth chattered slightly as she spoke

“Y-yeah of course, I’d be happy to.”

She gave me a simple smile before starting to walk again. “Oh Y/N! Wait! Before you keep walking, here.” I said offering her my jacket

“No Paul, its okay you keep it, its your jacket.”

“Y/N sweetheart, you look like you need it more than I do. Your shivering!” I said putting the jacket over her shoulders, on top the of one she was already wearing.

“Thanks Paul.” 

We continued to walk for a few minutes in silence. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of the wind blowing across the ground and against the windows of shops.

“So Paul, how’s the album coming along?” Y/N asked trying to start conversation, but I could tell she was also genuinely curious

“Pretty good, I would say. We’ve got a couple of weeks left until we’re finished with it though. I think it’s gonna be one of our best yet!” 

“That’s great, I’m excited to hear it! Well I mean other than what I’ve heard from sitting in on the recordings, but even then its not much ‘cause us girls are always in the other room talking.” She giggled

“Oh yeah? About what?”

“Oh you know girl stuff. Pattie is always keeping us to date about her ‘n George. She wants him to propose to her. We all think he’s going to, I mean they’re like soulmates. It would be stupid for him not to.”

“Yeah they do make a cute pair, don’t they?”

“Indeed they do.” She said with a smile, which then caused me to do the same. Like I said its contagious. 

“And Cynth is always busy taking care of Julian. We all love him, such a cute little fella. And he looks just like John too!”

“He really does, he’s got his fathers face and everything doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, hes pretty adorable. Makes me want a little one myself sometimes.” She said with a shrug. I looked over to her and smiled. She was so cute whenever she got excited about something. It sent butterflies though my stomach, causing my love for Y/N to only grow

“I’m sorry, I just keep going on and on here. What about you boys, surely you have some interesting conversations too don’t ya?” She asked me

“I guess we do. Its mostly just goofing off though, I don’t know how many times we’ve had to re-record because me and John start laughing or someone will make a joke about something. Its a wonder we’ve gotten as far as we have, really.” I said laughing. Y/N started laughing along with me to.

Soon it died down though and we we’re back to walking in silence until we reached her flat. We stayed side by side the entire time, sometimes getting closer to each other but then quickly going back to where we were once we realized how close out bodies were.

“Well, this is it.” She said walking up to the door “I- uh- thank you for walking back with me Paul, I really appreciate it. You made it a lot less lonely.” Her face was dimly lit due to the streetlights being further away. Nevertheless she still looked absolutely stunning. 

“Oh yeah, no problem Y/N. It was my pleasure.” 

“Oh! Before I forget here.” She said taking my jacket off her shoulders and handing it to me.

“No its okay, you can keep it. Who knows? If your out walking late again you might need it.” I said with a playful wink causing us both to release a small laugh.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive, love. Its all yours.”

“Thank you Paulie.” She said sweetly, turning to open the door.

Before she could get any further I stopped her.

“Y/N, t-there’s something I need to tell you.” I said quickly regaining her attention. She looked up at me with her soft eyes and a warm smile across her face.

“Sure Paul, what is it?”

“Well you see I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now, but I just haven’t had the chance to. But I- well you see, I really like you Y/N a lot and I have for a while and I guess- I don’t know.” I said stumbling over my words. Wow, way to play it smooth Macca.

I was distracted from my thoughts by a pair of soft lips being pressed onto mine. Before I knew it, they we’re slowly being pulled away.

“I really like you too, Paul.” Y/N said with a grin on her face “I always have.”

“What do you say we keep that going then?” I asked stepping closer to her and placing my hands on her waist. She snaked her arms around my neck and leaned in for another kiss. Another sweet, yet passionate one. 

Reluctantly we both pulled away in order to regain our breath. The wind still blew across the dimly lit streets, bringing the cold air along with it. Seconds of silence passed before any more words were spoken. “Its, getting pretty late. I should probably head back home.” I said before beginning to turn away

Y/N quickly grabbed my arm before I could get any further. “Well I mean Paul, you did walk an awfully long way and I would feel bad if you had to walk all the way back especially if it’s in the cold.” She said “Why don’t you come inside and we can...cuddle?”

A bright smile immediately grew on my face. “Well, how could I say no to that?” I said playfully before leaning down to press another kiss to her lips.

————-

Taglist: @beatlevmania @wrongbea-tle @john-lemonade @ineedyoubygeorgeharrison @princesof-theuniverse @harrimoon

Let me know if you want it be added to the taglist!

[country-clubs-gf]

All These Years- A Paul Lahote Fanfiction

~~~

•Chapter 9- Here Without You•

“These days, I haven’t been sleeping- staying up playing back myself leaving...”

(Paul’s POV)

“Paul, snap out of it and focus!” Sam demanded, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I quickly shook my head and slouched in my seat. I was thinking about her again. But that’s nothing new.

Ever since I imprinted on Sienna, things have been actual hell. My instincts tell me I need to be close to her, near her, at all times. When I’m not with her, it feels like there’s a giant hole in the middle of my chest and it’s actually painful.

But when I’m with her, it’s both a huge relief and a different kind of hurt at the same time. Seeing her with Embry, knowing I can’t touch her or kiss her or hold her hand, kills me. Watching her do all those things with someone else is even worse. I’m stuck and I don’t know what to do.

I’ve been finding subtle ways to stay around her so the giant hole in my chest and my instincts don’t swallow me whole. Since Jake is now part of the pack, it’s easy to go to their house and talk to him. Sienna will be doing her own thing, like the laundry or cooking something and I’ll find myself mesmerized by everything she does.

It’s things like that that make me feel so much better. Just being around her is enough for now. I’ve even been able to say a few words to her here and there, something I wouldn’t have thought I’d be able to do so soon, but seeing as how she’s pretty much stuck with seeing me all the time, we might as well be civil with each other.

My thoughts are interrupted by “Paul, what did I just say?!” Sam yells.

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” I mutter. Sam gives me a knowing and sympathetic look, something he doesn’t do often. The boys all know how painful these past few weeks have been for me, so they cut me some slack.

“Let’s go on our rounds around the perimeter. I’ll lead,” Sam says.

We all run out the door of Emily’s house and phase before running into the woods.

(The bold and italics are their thoughts and conversations as wolves, keep this in mind for future chapters as well)

Sam: I’ve been noticing hints of vampire scent around the cliff, we’ll make sure to double check that area.

Jared: Trust me, if there’s any hints of leech scent, we’ll be sure to track it down.

Sam: I hope you’re right.

I look over and see Jacob running along beside me. I wonder what he really thinks about Embry and Sienna, seeing as Embry is one of his best friends, but I try not to think about that in hopes that both Embry and Jake aren’t listening to my thoughts.

As we pass through the woods near Jacob’s house, I catch a whiff of Sienna’s scent. She must be outside or maybe her scent is just extra strong today, if possible.

I can barely stand to be away from her and even just passing through the woods near her house is somewhat comforting. I suddenly remember running into these woods after storming out of her house that night of our fight, the night I first phased.

Thinking about it pains me, the breakup, the tears, the screaming, the pain, it’s all so much to think about. I even start whimpering as we’re running through the woods.

Jacob: Oh my god, if you do not stop replaying the same fight you had with my sister in your head, I’m gonna go crazy.

Crap, sometimes I forget they can hear me.

Jared: Jake, just be grateful he’s not thinking about them having sex. Again.

The rest of the pack, except for Sam, laughs. I roll my eyes.

Paul: I can’t help it, I seriously can’t get her out of my head. I honestly never have been able to.

Jared: If it bothers you so much then why don’t you just talk to her about it?

Is this man stupid?

Paul: Wow, I hadn’t thought about talking to her about it. Great idea. Yeah that would be so helpful if she weren’t dating someone already.

I cut a glare to Embry, who has been silent this whole time. Figures.

Jared: Oh. Right.

Even though Embry can hear my thoughts and knows how much pain I’m going through, he still stays with Sienna. It makes me fucking mad. It makes me so mad thinking about it that I start running in front of the entire pack. It’s in this moment that I decide that I need to tell Sienna the truth, about the imprint, about my feelings, everything. Before I go crazy.

Sam: Paul! Get back here now!

I hate that I have to listen to him. I reluctantly slow down and run the rest of the way with the pack.

Once we all get back to Emily’s and phase back, we slip into our shorts that we got from our stash.

Jake walks ahead of me, but I stop him. He looks a bit surprised by my sudden actions.

“Look, I need to tell her. I can’t do this anymore, Jacob. It’s eating me from the inside out. I have to tell her, whether she’s with Embry or not. She deserves to know the truth.” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, she doesn’t need to know. You know why? Because you’ll only hurt her more than you already have. She needs a break from you, Paul. End of discussion.” He states and starts to walk away. I run up ahead of him, blocking him.

“No, not end of discussion. I love her and I need to tell her. It’s not some crush, Jacob. I imprinted on her. That’s huge, and I’m going to tell her whether you like it or not. You just don’t want me to because you know it’ll change things,” I tell him, getting angrier by the second.

He steps up, getting in my face. “You will not tell her. You broke her heart, you destroyed her. I watched her cry for days, she couldn’t even get out of bed. She wouldn’t eat, she wouldn’t sleep. She constantly plays depressing music, it’s so hard to watch. I’ve never seen her like this over anyone. Ever. I’m the one that’s been there for her. I’m the one who picked up her pieces. She’s finally starting to move on and be happy and I’m not going to let you ruin that. Not this time,” he says between clenched teeth.

I didn’t know all that. I step back a little, taking all of this new information in. This moment doesn’t last long, because then I start to get mad again.

“You think I’m not hurting, too? You think it was easy for me to walk away? To lose everything? First, the love of my life practically breaks up with me, I turn into a giant animal right after that, and then I’m forced to not see her at all. You think that was easy?! I couldn’t get out of bed, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, and I still can’t! Now I find out she’s my soulmate and we were meant to be all along only to not be able to tell her because she’s dating one of my friends and her dumbass brother doesn’t want me telling her? Well, fuck you Jacob, you don’t know the half of what I’ve gone through with her!” I yell back.

“Yes I do because you won’t shut up about it, in human form and as a wolf. It’s constant! And the whole time, all I can think about is how much you deserve it after what you put her through! You don’t deserve her, you never have and you never will!” He shouts.

That’s where I snap. I phase back into my wolf form, lunging at Jacob as he quickly does the same.

We have it out for a couple minutes before Sam jumps in, phasing as well. I know the other boys had been watching this whole time but I don’t care.

Sam: Break it up, you two! That’s enough. This is ridiculous!

Paul: I have to tell her! She’s my imprint! And I’m not gonna let Jacob tell me what to do about it!

Jacob: Yes you will! I’m her brother and I know what’s best for her! I don’t want to see her hurt. Again!

Paul: Jacob, the last thing I wanna do is hurt her. You know that.

Jacob: You better not, or I will make your life living hell!

Sam: Paul! Jacob! Phase back now!

With that, we both phase back. I give Jacob a glare and he returns it.

“Whatever, I’m out of here,” I tell them, slipping on another pair of shorts.

I know what I have to do.

~~~

You guys! I know I took like two years to update this but I’m so glad to be back and writing this! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I made it in Paul’s POV because I really wanted to do a scene with the pack doing their inner monologue stuff since we only get like one scene through the entire Twilight series of them talking as wolves. Thanks Smeyer. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and I hope to have another chapter up by the end of this week!

[dcarevu]

DCAU #17: The Cat and the Claw (Part 2)

“Oh, I've been going to the Paris Grand Prix for years... You know, one of these days I think I'll enter it.”

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. So how much did Part 2 of our first Catwoman story satisfy? Does it get a bowl of cream, or a spritz of water?

Episode: 16 Robin: No Writers: Sean Catherine Derek (story), Laren Bright (story), Jules Dennis (teleplay), Richard Mueller (teleplay) Director: Dick Sebast Animator: Akom Airdate: September 12, 1992 Grade: C

The first part of The Cat and the Claw had me interested, but certainly not blown away. It was a hit-and-miss episode with enough good ideas in it to allow me to enjoy it and wonder where the story was going to lead. I liked that it did give out a sense of substance, but honestly, I don’t think that the substance held steady between the credits of part 1 and the first scene of part 2. Part 2 does continue the story, but sucks out a lot of what made part 1 worth watching, and if I had never even watched part 2, I would not have been missing a damn thing aside from the realization that Catwoman ends up okay and the day is saved. But I think it was safe to assume that anyway, you know what I mean? Part 2 left very little impact on me, positive or negative, and for that reason I’m labeling it a C. Ironically, this is probably the episode with the highest stakes so far, right? With a conclusion that has a pretty epic scale. But it’s just not handled in an epic way. The concept is there, but the execution is lacking. Even if a studio like TMS or Spectrum were the ones to take care of the visuals, it still would have given the same feelings. The team knew what they were doing, giving it to Akom. Yeah, Akom’s work here is pretty bad, and Part 1 is more visually appealing in addition to being simply more entertaining. Even though it didn’t look the best, I could appreciate Sunrise’s unique style. When Sunrise failed, it still made for something that you don’t see everyday. Akom’s work was just plain old underwhelming. This is especially noticeable during the climax with their work on the fire (yeah, fire count, by the way). 

That fire looks like something from a Hanna-Barbera cartoon, guys. I’d expect to see similar on Scooby Doo. You don’t get a sense of the danger or the heat coming off that thing, and so you don’t get a sense of worry as Batman tries to get the hell out of there. Another very Akom scene is the car chase that happens when Bruce and Selena are together, out of costume. It looked laughably lame. That scene could have been so exciting and dynamic! But, at the same time, like I said, I understand why Atom was chosen. Even if the animation got me a little bit more invested, it still would have felt empty because of a lack of why I should be invested. It’s like watching a Transformers movie. Just brainless action. And why waste money on sending this episode to a better studio when a much better episode could be? The only real Akom-caused highlight was the train stuff. That looked pretty cool, likely because even though the train was moving, it still provided a static, stable platform for our characters, so it required less technical stuff to animate. All of the other cool stuff to look at was definitely in the storyboards. I liked the bit where the Bat Plane flew across the moon, kinda emulating that iconic moment in the 1989 film. And my favorite visual moment was when Selena’s secretary put on her glasses, and we see it via a POV shot. But then once things are crystal clear, a second later she walks into the shot, seamlessly transitioning it from POV to third person. 

More things like that could have probably almost created a B-level of enjoyment, admittedly. This part is also campier than part 1, with a lot more cheesiness thrown in, and that is to the episode’s detriment. The idea of Red Claw’s group of terrorists stealing a vial of disease from a military-guarded train is a really cool one, and I’ll take that over another standard police chase any day (until those chases start getting more god damn interesting). But something about watching them ride their little vehicle, leap on top of the train like ninjas, walking around on the train effortlessly, and dismantling it was pretty hard to take seriously. 

(This thug was in the last episode too, and he’s got this constant, static grimace. Makes me chuckle.)

Seeing Batman glide in with the bat-glider for the first time was neat, but then again, we get flown into a corn field. This is some of the cheesiest dialogue/line delivery on the show so far, even dwarfing the stuff from I’ve Got Batman In My Basement. No easy task! It’s like the writers here were aware of the serious tone, and trying, but still could only make a guy dressed like a bat so rational. I especially cringed at Batman’s shock that Red Claw was a woman. Having Catwoman be an admirable, strong character is doing feminism in a cartoon right. But this episode was too on-the-nose about it. Another instance is when Catwoman and Batman are tied up. Catwoman says something about their savior being a “woman’s touch”, and then she claws them out. Outside of the show trying to push a feminist message, why, in universe, would she say that exactly? Batman was not being sexist toward her. Red Claw certainly wasn’t. Red Claw is a woman for crying out loud! And how are her claws particularly feminine, anyway? Are they supposed to represent those stereotypical secretary nails? C’moooooon. Lame, lame, lame. I’m a feminist, and I’m all about cartoons showing that women are every bit as capable as men are. But if this is how they do it, then just don’t even try. And to add insult to injury, after we get Catwoman saving both of them, we end with her getting the shit beaten out of by Red Claw in a fight, merely because she does absolutely nothing to defend herself. Catwoman is an athletic cat-burglar who, in the previous episode, managed to give Batman a challenge. And now she’s just letting Red Claw kick her over and over in a way she easily should’ve seen coming. What a…confusing approach. 

While the superhero stuff was seriously below par, it’s slightly made up for because of how it explores Bruce and Selena’s relationship a little bit more. I liked seeing them on another attempted date, and so did Char! They’re really charming together, and it was incredibly satisfying to see Selena begin to enjoy his company. But as things start to go right for him, things also start to somehow go more wrong, and he discovers that Selena is Catwoman. To me, it’s believable that he wouldn’t have made that assumption right away. First of all, what are the odds. Second of all, a much different environment, mindset, and appearance. Plus, it’s not as though he was seeing Catwoman every single night, right? Most of his interactions of her was as normal human beings dressed in normal human clothes. Bruce mentions that he hasn’t felt a fondness of a woman like this in a very long time (Mask of the Phantasm entered my head for a second), and it feels so genuine. Somehow over these 16 episode and pilot, with a pretty small amount of spoken words for a main character, we’ve gotten to know Bruce…or…Batman…quite well. We can tell when he’s being phony, we can tell when he’s being sincere. This was sincere. And because his Bruce persona is such an exaggeration of his decency, spotting cracks in that just makes you feel something, man, especially when it shows us that hint of affection. This can be compared to Bruce Wayne talking to Harvey Dent about how proud he was that Harvey was seeking psychological help (Two-Face Part 1). These moments show us that Batman still has this warmth to him. It may be like a candle in the wind, fighting to stay alive, but every now and then there is a spritz of gasoline. For a second, Bruce Wayne and Batman are one. But y’know what? This is all well and good, however it makes me wish that the Red Claw stuff was absent. In part 1, it was different. I wanted to know where it was going. But without decent payoff, there is no reason for the terrorist story element at all. This would have been so much stronger if it were a half hour dedicated to building up the relationship of two troubled adults, fighting for what they believe in, succumbing to a certain level of darkness, all while not being able to find common ground. Paul Dini could have done it. Alan Burnett could have done it. Y’know what, Tom Ruegger probably could have done it. But no. We got writers who felt the need to add in that unnecessary, goofy superhero stuff that was not meant to be the focus of Batman the Animated Series when it didn’t need to be. But if there is one major strength of the superhero stuff, it’s the very ending. Because despite what Batman and Catwoman just went through together, saving countless people, Batman still needed to put her in handcuffs (and not in the way he probably wishes he could). 

(Blurry screenshot, apologies...by the way, are bat-handcuffs really necessary, Batman?)

That was paaaaaainful, but the right kind of painful (again, not in the way Batman probably wishes it was). Having Batman state that he didn't want her taken away like a common criminal was a great addition, and I really want to know which writer came up with that line. Whoever did got what makes Batman and Catwoman so interesting. If only they could have gotten a crack at this episode on their own. As some final words, despite me giving this episode a C, I went back and forth between a C or a D many times. I’m still not entirely sure which is my true grade. It depended on what I was writing about. When I was complaining, I was sure that I should make it a D. But as I was talking about some of the more positive elements, I thought maybe a C was more appropriate. Bottom line, I’m not sure. I think a C is the most fair, though, because aside from just being a middle of the road grade, it could also represent me being completely confused on my opinion. Is that understandable?

(Here we clearly see that the section of the train that was bombed is still very much intact)

(Batman was very much on model throughout the episode, particularly in the face)

Fire count: 8 Char’s grade: B

Next time: See No Evil Full episode list here!

[nothingneverforever]

The Haunting of Hill House (2018)

I remember sitting through the first episode of this series with my mom, thinking that it wasn't the best option for us to commit to, worrying that it would be a waste of our precious mother-daughter bonding time. The pacing of the first/second episode was too.. American, the emotional expressions too unsubtle, leaving little room for my audience participation, the acting too stilted, and the actors behaving too much like stage thespians .. and because I'd chosen the series after seeing rave reviews online, I remember sitting through the first episode thinking, huh, this is the shit people been losing their minds over?

And then.... suddenly, quickly, it became one of the most deeply affecting and disturbing shows I'd experienced, and thus eventually, one of my favourites. I'm deciding to write this now, about 9 months after I finished the series, because I've just started on The Haunting of Bly Manor, which is described as a "follow-up" series to Hill House. The narratives are not connected, but much of the cast and crew are the same, which is nice because I was so so so so so impressed with the acting of these specific returning actors in Hill House, and after reading a little more into the production process, I've been allowed to understand that the crew is fucking epic and genius as fuck too. I love this series!!!!!

The title of a Youtube video that I love a great deal on this series, by one of my absolute favourite film analysis video essayists, Ladyknightthebrave, is: Stretching Genre - A Haunting of Hill House Video Essay. And maybe this is what I'll talk about first - genre. I've never particularly cared for 'horror' because I'd rather be able to engage with themes and tropes I can relate to in my own life, stories that resemble my own world from my own ever-romantic perspectives. I've always wanted to delve into horror, to appreciate the elaborately designed surfaces as well as be affected in whatever ways by any depth of conversation or concept, but I don't think I've ever been able to achieve any of this. I've tried to enjoy both superficially (i.e. entertainment value) and also more real-ly many horror productions, but always left with a deep sense of meh.  Crimson Peak (which I reviewed here back in 2016) might be the closest I've come to engaging genuinely with anything from this broad genre, but even then I think I liked it more for its kitsch value, its beautiful beautiful beautiful soundtrack, than for the genre-specific parts of the narrative. But I mean, everything makes a film right? The soundtrack and the costumes and the acting are the horror elements in themselves too, I know.

Even then, a lot of the simple reactions I've read for Hill House are ones of surprise, where audiences went in not realizing that a series with the words The Haunting of.. in its title would leave them feeling utterly heartbroken, distraught (sad), emotionally-invested as it were any other drama series. In that Ladyknightthebrave video I mentioned, at multiple points in her essay she says, simply, "hey,... I'm sad" when referencing a particular scene or conversation. And that was, too, my overwhelming reaction to the whole series.... I'm sad!!!!!

Perhaps I should describe the plot a little first.. so the Cranes are a family of 7, mother and father and 5 lovely children: in descending order of age, they are Steve, Shirley, Theo, and twins Luke and Eleanor (Nelly). Here is the official synopsis:

This modern reimagining of the Shirley Jackson novel follows siblings who, as children, grew up in what would go on to become the most famous haunted house in the country.. Now adults, they are forced back together in the face of tragedy and must finally confront the ghosts of their past. Some of those ghosts still lurk in their minds, while others may actually be stalking the shadows of Hill House.

And, from wikipedia, here are some of the notable reviews of the series:

Corrine Corrodus of The Telegraph graded the series with a 5/5 rating, calling it "the most complex and complete horror series of its time." Brian Tallerico of RogerEbert.com gave unanimous praise to the Netflix adaptation, describing it as "essential viewing," and stated that "[the show] contains some of the most unforgettable horror imagery in film or television in years." David Griffin of IGN gave the series a rating of 9.5 out of 10, calling it "a superb and terrifying family drama," and Paul Tassi of Forbes described it as "absolutely fantastic" and stated that "it may actually be Netflix's best original show ever."

Horror author Stephen King, who holds considerable admiration for Jackson's novel, tweeted about the series, "I don't usually care for this kind of revisionism, but this is great. Close to a work of genius, really. I think Shirley Jackson would approve, but who knows for sure."

Filmmaker Quentin Tarantino, in interview with The Jerusalem Post said, "My favorite Netflix series, with no competition, is The Haunting of Hill House."

Due to obvious reasons I give zero fucks about what either King or Tarantino might have to say about, uhh, anything on this planet, but YASSSS RETWEET everything above!!! It is essential viewing!!! Indeed the most complex and complete series of its time!!! Unforgettable imagery!!!

Okie so now on to my own original thots... 

My main learning was this: Horror, i.e. the presence of something horrific, for it's characters in the show/story, isn't about feeling frightened or them 'losing their minds' or being driven to questioning their own perceptions of reality or anything like what we've seen in the last 7 decades or so of seeing the genre develop and evolve. In Mike Flanagan's beautiful ode to Shirley Jackson's incredible story, we come to understand that horror is only ever about genuine trauma. I guess, like I talked about earlier, I never really understood what horror's raison d'etre was at all.. like... why?? What is the greater, lasting impact of having audiences shaking in their boots? What is intended by eliciting a gasp or a scream? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ALL THIS?!

I asked, and I've been asking and asking for years, and finally Hill House provided: Horror is, in fact, about unspeakable pain.. Pain that has no outlet in a world that will only ever be skeptical of such experiences... it's about being genuinely haunted in such a way that you can never dream of stability in your life ever again; it's about developing into a closed-off, maladjusted adult, knowing that your experiences of early life cannot be related to anyone else's in any way, not even that of your siblings. I remember taking away this lesson very early on in the series, possibly midway through the second episode. Because the siblings (Steve, Shirley, Theo, Luke, Nelly) are all utterly flawed and thus 'real' characters, we're able to quickly why they are the ways they are. (Important note: the siblings are not flawed in ways that make them unlikable at all, or unrelatable, or downright unpleasant to watch - this is a flaw that other productions have definitely fallen prey to before in the name of achieving that 'realness' however Hill House judges things so perfectly that we are endeared to their flaws and never put off by them.) Their disparate experiences with Hill House growing up, their subsequent very personal meaning-making journeys (some looking more like denial, some resulting in substance dependency), their different levels of having access to the 'truths' about what went on in that cursed home, all of this meant that the siblings ended up, where we see them in 'current day', being broken adults with a lot of misplaced anger, unprocessed trauma, and resentment toward one another. It is the aloneness in all their experiences that is the true horror, and the horrors were a very personal, existential kind and so there was no room for mutual bonding and sharing until it was too late, until their babiest of baby sisters had lost herself to the pressures calling her ‘home’.

And suddenly, I realised: this is the true evil. Ghosts don't ruin lives by doing a good epic scare here and there or by turning your irises white by revealing some fucking scary shit: ghosts are seriously... so... fucking... evil because they ruin your whole entire lives..!!! Horrifying realities take the form of many different things, even if they all originate from one main source. The Crane siblings, as children, had to deal at once with their mother being predisposed to falling victim to the spirits of the house due to, as hinted, mental health conditions of her own, while also dealing with differently confusing aspects of a house and a home that taunted them by making them feel unsafe and secure all at once. Now I say all this from an.. artistic appreciation pov, because I am myself unconvinced that the 'supernatural' or anything of a spiritual realm influences our daily lives. Which is all the more significant, right? That a ""skeptic"" like myself (although I'm not an insensitive and stubborn over-rationalizing dumb male like Steve is in the show) could suddenly realise the tragic effects on many many vulnerable souls of a world that clutching on to its medical models and objective scientific truths.

From the series' wiki page: The Haunting of Hill House received critical acclaim, particularly for its acting, directing, and production values, with many calling it an "effective ghost story."

So yea... finally I know what that means. Finally I know what effect a ghost story can and should have. Finally I understand the potential of the genre!!! Sigh there is literally SO much I could say about how and why this is the best series in the world but maybe I'll stop here for now..? There would be no end if I were to discuss everything because it's one of those series that has 'easter eggs', in the form of hidden ghosts (visual) lurking in the dark or specific lines that foreshadow something else later on, but I've never really cared much to 'reveal' these things so yea, go forth and enjoy this best show everrrrr :-)

(For example there is a lot of discussion online about how each of the 5 siblings represent the 5 different stages of grief à la Kübler-Ross, with the eldest Steve being in complete denial that there was ever any supernatural presence to explain their experience, Shirley reacting with sheer anger to all around her, Theo bargaining her way through her own internal conflicts, Luke being surrounded by swirling depression fueling his drug dependency, and Nell eventually accepting the so-called inevitable, etc etc etc but this kinda analysis is a little too lowbrow and heavy-handed for me to get into so yea haha)

There is a specific dialogue that I want to reference however on my way out: when Nell's suicide/death is revealed early in the series, Shirley has the difficult talk with her young children about it. And these 2 simple lines umm basically summarize the entire plot:

Shirley's son: Why did she die? Shirley: I don't know.. I'm just so sad that she did

Everyone watching the show would relate to that immediately but also that sentiment rings more and more and more true as the episodes come to reveal what a painfully innocent and giving soul Nell was... :(

So sad !!!!!

----------

Edit: copying below my mom’s initial thoughts after I forced her to read this post hehe, because her words describe a lot of what I think and feel too, and because I want to remember our discussion and reflection forever!

Each of us -  lives scarred at some time – in some private way – religion drowns it, cosmetises – but horror – is the Couch of reflection, reliving and something of a letting it out.  Feeling again the horror/fear/anxiety/pain/aloneness of that  real trauma – but in an shared room, even if only shared with an older, saner, wiser, learning you.

[artificialqueens]

Chicago Nights (Sashea) -Dandee

It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either. There’s a clock, there’s always a clock somewhere ticking, tucked back in a corner of Shea’s mind.

Sasha’s already packed for the morning. Her suitcase sits on the chair by the window.

She’ll go back to Manhattan tomorrow.

AN– I’ve been having trouble with Brooklyn Nights lately, so I wrote this to get me back into the swing of things =] I wrote it in a couple of days so if it’s garbage, that’s why. Just a reflection piece from Shea’s POV, in the universe of Brooklyn Nights, set a few months before chapter 1

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Sasha says. Her rich voice resonates, bounces off the Killem-beige walls of the room.

Shea loves this picture.

She’s angelic– her amethyst eyes glassy from hours of lovemaking, a satisfied, lazy grin gracing her features, unruly blonde curls tumbling over her bare shoulder. She’s bringing her ankle up Shea’s calf and inching toward her, scooting closer, her fingertips grazing Shea’s arm.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Shea says, flicking the lighter. She flicks a few more times before she gets a flame.

Sasha tip-toes her fingers across the small space between them. “I’m getting a bad reputation. I’ve been charged for smoking my last three visits.”

Shea takes the first hit, gets a good cherry going.

“Well,” she says, pearly wisps floating into the air as she speaks, “you are smoking.”

“You’re smoking.” Sasha props herself up on an elbow. She leans forward, hovers over Shea, her eyes flickering to her mouth. Shea puffs again, and she reaches up to tuck one of those loose curls behind Sasha’s ear. Sasha grins, leaning into the touch, then says, “I just reap the benefits.”

Shea chuckles and pulls her closer. She blows the smoke into their kiss, and Sasha moans soft.

She loves this picture too. The way Sasha looks when she pulls back; propped up on her arms, pale pink nipples bared, a cheshire smile planted on her face while two perfect streams of smoke drift from her nostrils.

Nevermind the way she’s looking at her. If looks could kill, Shea would be long dead by now.

She nestles back down, but this time she’s closer– she’s weaseling herself under Shea’s arm, laying her head on her chest. Her hand rests on Shea’s stomach, fingers tapping lightly, and she grows quiet. They both grow quiet.

It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either. There’s a clock, there’s always a clock somewhere ticking, tucked back in a corner of Shea’s mind.

Sasha’s already packed for the morning. Her suitcase sits on the chair by the window.

She’ll go back to Manhattan tomorrow.

There was always an expiration date on this thing– it wasn’t ever supposed to end up like this. It was supposed to be a fling, a floozey. Shea’s a bartender, at a fucking hotel, she knows how this goes– people come and people go, it is what it is, all of that. She knows all of that.

It doesn’t change what happened.

What had happened was– there was a day she was working, a day like any other day, and someone cute took a seat and ordered a drink. Not uncommon. Nothing Shea couldn’t handle.

Well then she came back.

Again.

And again.

And then she was a regular. Sasha. The girl from Russia who lived in Manhattan, the editor in chief of Velour Magazine. She was here on business, every other week, for days on end. Though she was quiet at first, it only took a little prodding to get her to start talking.

The rest– it’s hard to remember exactly how it happened, honestly.

All Shea knows is that she was suddenly looking forward to the first and third Monday of each month. When her eyes scanned over the arrivals sheet and landed on the name Velour, her breath would hitch in her throat and her pulse would quicken. When she would see that silhouette slip through the doorway and into the bar, she would have to make great efforts to hide her creeping, shit-eating grin.

And there was that night– that first night.

Sasha had held Shea’s attention captive all night. They were deep in a discussion about Jean Paul Gaultier, Shea comparing his influence to that of Naomi Campbell, Sasha disagreeing, or something like that, who knows– and Shea had truly neglected her other guests. Sasha had a few drinks, Shea had thrown back a few shots, and there was this tension, this electricity buzzing between the two of them.

When she’d closed up that night, no one left, the bar phone had rang. Sasha– asking ever so sweetly– if a bottle could be brought to her room.

“I guess we’re even, though,” Sasha says, pulling Shea from her thoughts.

Shea blinks and takes another hit. “What?”

“Well, you know,” Sasha continues, “you’re playing with fire, coming up to my room all the time. I can pay for the smoking, kind of makes things even.” Shea can feel Sasha smiling into her skin, and she chuckles.

“They ain’t gonna do shit.”

“Mm, never say never.”

Shea shifts to look down at her, and Sasha meets her gaze with a challenging brow.

“They’re not,” Shea says, then gives a slight shrug against the sheets. “Listen, this place is so ass-backwards,” she lets out a breath of a laugh, bringing the blunt to her lips briefly, “if they were gonna fire me, they would’ve done it a long time ago.”

It’s not all the way true, but it’s not not true.

Shea’s pretty sure half the staff knows what’s going on.

Yes, it’s against policy to go to guest rooms. Yes, it’s against policy to sleep with the guest, and yes, it’s against policy to smoke in the room, with the guest, specifically marijuana. But anyone industry with has half a brain knows what’s up. Shea’s slept with many a guest in her time at the hotel, smoked and snorted many an illegal substance in a guest’s room. It’s – it’s kind of a thing, this is Chicago. She’s a bartender, and such is the life.

Sasha gives a little resigned sigh and lays her head back down on Shea’s chest.

Shea sighs in response to her sigh and pets her hair.

She stares at the ceiling and wonders, puffing mindfully, entertains the idea of convincing Sasha to stay another night, if she even could.

Shea had come to hate Thursdays over the last few months– but just here lately, she’d come to hate Fridays. Sasha had been very uncharacteristically lenient with her schedule, had recently been very apt to extend her visits an extra day, giving reason to “needing another day to tie up loose ends”.

Not a complete lie to Mister Velour.

See, this was the shit– this is where it got sticky. This is where it all went wrong, where it all went to hell. There were three things Shea motherfuckin Coulee did not do:

One, she did not cuddle. She wasn’t gonna bring her sleepin’ bag either– she might fuck a stranger but she ain’t about to spend the night. Yet here she is, lying in bed with Sasha, absentmindedly toying with her platinum curls.

Two, she didn’t fuck married women. It was too risky, too messy, it always ended badly. Someone alway ended up getting hurt. Yet here she is, lying in bed with Sasha, her ring-less fingers drawing shapes into Shea’s skin.

And three, she didn’t fall in love. That was just something Shea didn’t have time for– love was overrated, it was fake. People were fake. People weren’t worth that kind of devotion, not when you had bills to pay and a life to live.

Yet, here she is. In bed. With Sasha.

Wishing that time would stop, wishing she just could lay here and listen to the soft whistling of Sasha’s nose and the low hum of the air conditioner, wishing she could feel the contrast of the cool sheets and Sasha’s warm body pressed against hers for– well, for a lot longer than just tonight. Wishing that these stolen moments, these hours spent in a commercial hotel room could actually evolve into a life, that it held the prosperity of continuing, not ending.

It would be different, if Shea knew she was hers. If she knew Sasha loved her and only her, if she knew she’d see Sasha tomorrow or the next day or even in the next two weeks, if it wasn’t just promised. But she wasn’t hers, isn’t hers– she’s his. There’s a day coming, a day when Sasha won’t come back, won’t come back to the hotel and Shea knows it– so every moment spent together feels nostalgic. Shea already misses every moment, as it happens.

It’s not healthy. She’s aware of that.

She’s not that girl, to play the role of the other woman. To pine over someone who loves someone else. It’s pathetic, self-deprecating. It’s embarrassing.

Kim gets it. Sort of. She’s met Sasha, and she thinks her nice enough. But Shea can see the hint of– pity? The sadness in her eyes, when they’re out and about and someone tries flirting with Shea. Kim knows she’s stuck on Sasha, that she couldn’t move on even if she wanted to. It’s not fair, but she can’t let it go.

“Shea?”

She looks down at her chest to see a much softer brow– furrowed, concerned, but soft, gazing up at her. Long, slender fingers reach up to brush against Shea’s cheek, her eyes piercing as they dart back and forth between Shea’s.

“Is everything alright?”

Shea tilts her head back for a moment, trying to will the moisture that had betrayed her back into her eyes. She blinks quickly, then brings the cigar to her lips. She nods as she inhales.

Sasha’s not buying it, of course she’s not. Sasha knows. Sasha always knows.

Her eyes don’t leave Shea’s as she reaches for the blunt, trapping it between her fingertips and pulling it away. She takes a long drag, her cheeks hollowing and her eyelids fluttering, and smoke curls into the space between them, drifting up around her unwavering gaze and toward the ceiling.

“Tell me.”

Though her voice is barely above a whisper, it’s determined. She’ll wait, even if Shea’s silence lasts minutes.

Shea chuckles hollowly. “Nothing, I just–” her voice breaks off, not into tears, but an incapability to speak with confidence, with clarity. Sasha’s free hand finds one of hers and clasps it, threading their fingers and squeezing gently.

“I was just– I don’t know,” Shea rolls her eyes in spite of herself. “I was thinking maybe you could stay another night?”

Sasha’s face doesn’t really change, not at first. She blinks slowly, gives a soft laugh through her nose. She looks down to their hands.

“I want to,” she says quietly. She runs her thumb along Shea’s.

“But…”

“But,” Sasha nods, glancing up with a serious expression, “I have a meeting on Friday morning. An early meeting.”

“Right,” Shea nods with her. Of course not.

Sasha grows quiet, but this time it’s uncomfortable. It’s tense. Sasha takes another drag of the blunt and passes it back to Shea.

“I’m good,” Shea says, short.

Sasha meets her eye with a look that’s hard to place. She sighs defeatedly and raises herself from the bed.

Shea watches her bare ass resentfully as she walks to the bathroom to flush the roach. That cute, perfect little ass that turns cherry red with enough smacking. She wants to smack it again, not because she’s turned on, but because she’s pissed right now.

“Are you pissed right now?” Sasha asks on her way back, her tone slightly irritated.

“No.”

Sasha places a hand on her hip and stares at Shea with a cocked brow. When Shea says nothing, she runs a hand through her hair and sits on the edge of the bed. Shea sits up, resting her back against the headboard.

“You know I want to,” Sasha repeats, gazing at the wall in front of her.

Shea brings the covers up over her breasts and hugs her knees to them.

“I know.”

Sasha’s eyes fall shut at her response. She knows Shea’s upset, and Shea knows she’s being somewhat unreasonable, and that it’s upsetting Sasha. It’s a familiar scenario, and it’s just as stupid as every time it’s played out before.

Because it should be simple. It should be easy to just say, ‘I love this person. This is the person I choose.’ It’s that easy for Shea. It’s always been that easy for Shea, but it’s not up to Shea anymore– she’s lost all power in the situation. It’s up to Sasha, who won’t do anything. Sasha, who won’t leave her husband, won’t sacrifice anything for Shea.

Kim said it’s a sign, that Shea should see things for what they are. “Don’t trust the rich white lady,” she says.

Sometimes she really thinks about listening.

“Please don’t be upset,” Sasha says, turning to look at Shea. It’s those eyes– that’s what makes Shea weak, makes her believe all the bullshit. Her azul eyes are often like a book, wide and open for Shea to read. Sasha hates her marriage, hates her life in Manhattan. Hell, she might even love Shea. It’s all there, Shea can see it all.

The problem lies in the fact that it’s only Shea that sees this side. It’s a lot harder to tell what the truth is when it’s just you looking.

If only Kim could see these moments, maybe Shea could feel validated. If someone else could see how much Sasha loved her, maybe she wouldn’t think it was all a lie. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so fucking crazy.

She sighs, still holding Sasha’s gaze. “I’m always upset when you leave.”

And when Sasha crawls back to her, she doesn’t move away. She never does.

She never wins, not really.

But Sasha’s hands come to rest at either side Shea’s face and everything’s gone–everything disappears the minute her lips touch Shea’s. Sasha practically melts into her, straddling her lap and hanging her arms loosely around her neck. The feeling of her tiny, naked body against the blanket sends Shea’s brain into a tailspin.

Her nails rake lightly down Sasha’s back, stopping at her ass and squeezing it gently. She then gives it a hard slap, and Sasha pulls back with a gasp and a surprised smile.

“You are pissed.”

Shea chuckles in response. Before Sasha can say anything else, Shea flips them– Sasha on her back and Shea above her, hands pinning her wrists to the mattress, a knee sliding between Sasha’s thighs. She gasps again, then exhales shakily, brows together as she lets a whine escape her, looking up at Shea.

This picture might be Shea’s favorite.

Sasha, naked under her and completely at her will. Looking up at her with need, whining, mewling like a kitten, moving her hips against her leg and begging to be touched.

Shea leans in to kiss her, but this time it’s slow, chaste. Sasha slows her pace to match Shea’s, and Shea lets go of her wrists, lifts her up to sit with her, swiping her tounge along her bottom lip and deepening the kiss. She runs her hands downs Sasha’s shoulders, and Sasha sighs into her.

Shea has never wanted to kiss someone just for the sake of kissing them, just for the sake of closeness.

Yet again, here she is. With Sasha.

When she breaks away, Sasha pulls her back to her, resting her forehead against hers. Shea closes her eyes, relishes in the feeling of having her here, in her arms. She gives a long sigh, and whispers,

“Don’t go.”

She feels, hears Sasha’s slow, deep intake of breath. They stay that way for a moment, in the dark, pressed against each other.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Sasha murmurs.

Shea gives a low groan and pulls back, pushing another curl out of her face.

“It’s still gonna be too long.”

Sasha grins regretfully and takes her hand, bringing it to her lips and pressing a kiss to her wrist.

“I know.”

*****

Shea hates this picture.

Sasha’s pulling back, her hands slipping away. Her eyes are aquamarine in the early morning sunlight, and her heels click along the pavement as she slinks backwards, giving a wistful smile before climbing into the taxi.

The big yellow door shuts and Shea stands there, watching it go.

She’ll be back in two weeks. She bought fancy orchestra tickets for them. West Side Story at Steppenwolf. She’ll stay an extra day, and they’ll go shopping.

Promises, promises.

And it doesn’t really mean shit to Shea. The sentiments are sweet, so she just goes with it. Sasha’s trying to be sweet, trying to make up for lost time.

Kim’s words ring in her ears as Shea wanders into the middle of the street, hands in the pockets of her jacket, and she sees Sasha’s face in the back window one last time, just before the cab takes the corner.

*******

AN- so hopefully chapter three of Brooklyn Nights isn’t too far away!

[sl-walker]

This one’s not new, I’ve already posted it on LJ and Arts and Ends, but I did some fine-tuning for fun. I love these guys, individually or side-by-side.  I probably can’t quite describe how much I love drawing Turnbull in his regular duty gear.  We never took away his goofy, we never took away his ability to be an occasional clutz, and we never equated his silly-sweetness and goofy with stupid, either.

This might get spoilery for Arch to the Sky, so if you haven’t read Midnight Blue and learned the basic facts from Mike’s POV (most, though not all of them) of what tragedy befell Ren Turnbull and, indeed, the entire Nipawin Detachment, Guy Laurent and concentric circles throughout their lives and town itself, you should probably just smile at the picture and keep going.

Like I said last time I was waxing poetic about Mike there, we wrote Arch to the Sky jumping back and forth across Ren’s entire timeline.  As we’d learn a new piece, we’d hop back in time to see where it had originated.  Sometimes we just talked about it and noted it down, but sometimes we wrote it into a story.  Exploring Nipawin kind of became inevitable because we really did need to know why.

We’ve never bought into the Paul Gross interpretation of the Mounties.  Like I said before, I was married to a cop.  My Mom was a cop.  My uncle was a cop.  I came a hair’s breadth and a budget freeze from being a cop myself, and I managed to beat over a thousand people for my spot in the civil service lineup with no curve; I was pretty much guaranteed a call back if they’d decided to hire.  I’ve known more cops than I can count on two hands, including police chiefs and K-9 officers.  I’ve known good ones, and I’ve known bad ones, too.  Not just the one I was once married to.  Police culture is a topic I could expand on for hours, especially when you’re surrounded by it, and man, domestic violence behind the blue line is a special kind of awful.  But I digress.

Being neck deep into that life means groaning a lot at police procedurals and stuff, but it also means wanting to do it right.  due South showed Mounties early on doing their regular jobs, but that tapered off over time; red serge became the norm, and they got more and more outlandish with every encounter, so you can imagine my eye-rolling there.  Every Mountie needs to spend three years in general duty, so when it came time to explore Ren Turnbull’s general duty experience, we dropped the magical and just went with the realism.  After the hell of Depot, but before the hell of (early) Chicago, there was this idyllic period in this little town in NE Saskatchewan.  It’s a real town, I’ve really crawled the whole thing on street view, too. XD

I’m going into Turnbull because that was where I first got to know anything about Mike Chase, so you gotta talk about one to get to the origins of the other.  Without Turnbull, there’d be no Chase.

Nipawin really was kind of our apology to Turnbull for canon and our own timeline with Depot, and Mike was a big part of that, though we didn’t know that at first.  Instead of taking a still raw, exceptionally green, somewhat accident prone and deeply jumpy Turnbull and making it worse, Mike was exactly what Ren needed after Depot.  Patient and steady, professional, calm; a good sense of humor, but not a lick of malice.  Genuine, honest.  He doesn’t buy the sabotage bull in Ren’s file, and it takes him no time flat to decide that he really likes this kid a lot and sees a ton of really good potential there.  It takes Ren literally months to stop waiting for Mike to turn on him, but by the time he’s off of the books, he’s kind of realized that all of that patience was a real thing and hey, his FTO did a damn good job preparing him for patrol work without ever resorting to hazing or bullying tactics.

Fact was, after that, Ren stuck Mike up on a pedestal.  I can’t quite call it hero-worship, but it was definitely a pedestal.  He did the same to Russ, but he was never as attached to Russ as he was to Mike, and for Mike’s part, he never quite stopped being Ren’s FTO even long after field training ended.

Anyway, though, there was a pedestal problem for both of them, in a way.  Ren looked up to Mike as a fine example of what a cop should be, and Mike subconsciously responded to that about like any hyper responsible type would and tried to live up to it.  It’s sweet in part, but it’s sort of heartaching, too.   I think Turnbull woulda given in and gone curling with Mike next season, when Mike asked.  And I think they would have slowly dismantled the mutual pedestals, if the bridge hadn’t happened; they would have eventually made it to being friends.  But the bridge did happen.

I wrote Mike on his wedding day, two years before Turnbull becomes his ninth rook, and his dynamic with the prior rookies is a whole different thing.  They’re friends.  They rib one another.  Brett and Cathy not only call Mike by his given name without a blink, they’re also entirely willing to embarrass him, manhandle him around and treat him like a colleague and friend and brother, even though he had been their teacher.  Brad Wright, his last rook, was probably a little more like Turnbull in how he viewed Mike, but even he wouldn’t have hesitated to call Mike by name.  A lot of that was time; it was four years between Brad and Ren, but a lot changed in Mike’s life (and the man himself) in that time; he wasn’t in the busy, crowded chaos of the LMD anymore, he was not only in a small town, but he’d gotten comfortable there.  He was friends with Sandy and Russ and half of the firefighters; he had a house and a wife and in-laws and 414 and a lot of stability, and in turn, came to represent stability to Ren.

Geez, there’s so much more to all of this, but imagine years later that this guy you admire, who represents a stability you needed when you needed it, who you believe will always be there to have your back, who is principled and disciplined and honorable is party to a cover up of the worst moments of your life.   Ren trusted Mike.  A lot.  And from his POV, the FTO he trusted has been a party to hiding what happened on that bridge.  From Ren’s perspective, skewed horribly by PTSD, it was because Mike was ashamed of him, and when Ren was transferred out and Mike didn’t say goodbye, it was like the final crushing of what was already his broken heart.  No wonder he picked Chicago; Ben Fraser was a whole world of difference from Mike Chase, but he was a good man who kept his principles when the last good man Ren knew apparently hadn’t.

But on the other side, that’s not how things were at all.  Russ maneuvered his very stand-up corporal by appealing to that deep protectiveness Mike had of Turnbull and put the cover up in place before Mike even knew about it.  And then he willfully and intentionally pinned Mike between protecting Turnbull and sticking to his high ideals, and he leaned on how much Mike had come to trust him to do it.  And Mike let him.  And it upset him so bad he spent the better part of a week in shock.  It was only Turnbull coming back on duty that got Mike to shake off the devastation enough to snap back into gear.  And even at that point, even hurt, he still trusted Russ himself and he spent an absolutely unhealthy amount of time trying to get Turnbull back together.  If he could save his rook, he could maybe claw some good back out of this god-awful badness.

And in the end, he couldn’t.  Mike tried well past when other men mighta quit.  When Turnbull couldn’t handle patrol, Mike worked double shifts off the clock so he could cover his and also stay through midnights to back up his rook, but he usually ended up answering calls himself because Turnbull would lock up.  Then, when it was clear that Turnbull couldn’t deal with being alone in a cruiser and trusted to function, Mike rode with him in 420 on midnights.  Then he got Russ to move Turnbull to afternoons, and it went back and forth, trying different things.  Breaks from patrol with desk work.  Mike never quit, but it was kicking the hell out of him; he was exhausted and he was starting to make mistakes and get behind in his own files because everything in him was trying to save Turnbull. 

Wow, I kind of run off on tangents, don’t I?

Backing it up, Mike wasn’t really meant to be quite so deeply tangled in Turnbull’s story as he actually ended up being.  He wasn’t really supposed to be such a dynamic, breathing guy himself that he’d keep haunting the story after it had moved on.  Erin and I were writing to an end: Ren in Chicago, eventually Turnbull/Vecchio.  I think the first hint of the sheer devastation left behind was in Radio Silence.  The next spring after Turnbull’s transfer, been out of Nipawin for months, and Mike’s sitting in Turnbull’s cruiser for a moment, and it aches how much this has affected him.  The next major hint was See What Happens, where Guy goes back to Nipawin and here are both sides of Ren’s life there, the personal and the professional, and both of them have their ghosts.  There’s a hint there that Mike Chase is in some kind of trouble, though you don’t really quite get the scope of how badly his life’s fallen apart in these three years unless you read Midnight Blue.

Then we start on Arch to the Sky, the title story of the whole arc, and the devastation comes home to everyone.  Guy, having lost Drew, went to find Ren.  In Nipawin, Mike Chase is chasing something too big for him alone, but his trust in his own Force and in himself is so rattled that he’s overwhelmed and a mixed ball of depression and anxiety.  And in Chicago, Ren Turnbull has a life and is healing from his damage, but Guy brings home his ghosts.

And then it all crashes down; Mike’s gunned down in the middle of the night, left on death’s door with a whole case in his head and enemies who no doubt will look for the opening to finish the job.  And Ren gets that call, he goes to Nipawin.

I don’t know exactly how they will deal with their hurts and their pedestals.  But I hold out a lot of hope that they will; OC or not, Mike’s a deep part of Ren’s story, and honestly, vice versa too.  There’s a lot of love there, I’d like to see it come back around to good for them.