#anyway might actually make a post later on my thoughts on book of bill but I'm still digesting it right now

[dykethevvitch]

just finished book of bill and i wanna smash in the head of billford shippers a little bit. i think if you unironically ship billford you have to give every gf fan who's survived abused $100 and an essay on how bill is a textbook abuser

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Started listening to the radio show from 2014 that was billed as Barnes and Peacock talking about sex for three hours. I... I don't know what I expected. I think I thought they were joking? To be fair, they usually are joking. They are comedians, and therefore will usually be joking when they discuss sex. But nope, this show is exactly what it says on the tin. Not a joke. Just sex. Lots of that. They did warn me.

I mentioned in a post a few months ago that I think John Robins' "pussy line" routine from his 2014 stand-up show is funny, the premise is good and I like the rhythm and it sets up an absolutely beautiful callback later, but I find it a bit difficult to listen to just because I'm so squeamish that I sort of have difficulty hearing the word "pussy" repeated that many times. I'll be honest, I feel vaguely uncomfortable even writing that word more than once in this paragraph. Sex isn't a thing people actually do in real life, is it? I thought they were all just making it up for comedy material, like ADHD. Are both those things real? Surely not.

Anyway, I'm 2.5 episodes into Barnes and Peacock, and my issue with hearing John Robins say "pussy" a few times seems like a very long time ago. They did tell us they were going to talk about sex in that radio show. And then they did that. Not as a joke, either. Just straight-up. I never thought I'd say the words "I think I might not be emotionally mature enough to handle the things Ray Peacock is saying in an adult manner" (not Ian Boldsworth, who's said lots of mature and intellectual stuff, but specifically Ray Peacock), but I think they may have got me on this one.

I am glad that Pierre Novellie happened to release his book this week, as it gives me something else to listen to at work. I could not possibly listen to the Barnes and Peacock sex show at work, no matter how much I trust the connection of my headphones to hold. I could barely put on Peacock & Gamble at work, but at least they were kidding. I don't know, what would be worse to listen to during a break in my job at an autism centre for children, and imagine what would happen if my headphones somehow disconnected and everyone could hear it? Peacock & Gamble with lots of sex jokes, as well as all their jokes about disabled children; or this other show where they don't bring disabled children into it but the sex talk is more explicit and they're not kidding?

Luckily I don't have to decide, because I am going with a system of Barnes and Peacock at home, Pierre Novellie at work. I'm about three hours into his book, by the way, and hugely enjoying it. I have a bunch of stuff to say about that book that will probably turn into a more coherent post than this soon, but tonight I am tired and cannot write an intelligent post about anything, so I'm just saying this instead. Pierre Novellie is a reasonable person to listen to while doing admin, or on a break, at a centre where they strive to provide autistic children with the best care possible, according to current research and person-centred perspectives. And I am genuinely not mature enough to listen to people unironically talk about sex without wincing.

Though I have been reminded, through all that, of how very engaging a performer Angela Barnes is (sorry for what I said about people making up ADHD for material, I was joking, in reality I quite like a lot of "I have ADHD"-based stand-up hours, including Hot Mess, Angela Barnes' NextUp special, it's really good). I'd love to see her in Edinburgh this year, it's unfortunate that she's not arriving until a few days after I leave. I said two years ago, when they cancelled Mock the Week, that they need to give Angela Barnes her own show (preferably with Rhys James as a sidekick), because it's not fair for her to not be on TV anymore just because they cancelled the thing where she was a regular. It's been nearly two years, someone needs to get the fuck on with doing that.

They've played a Flight of the Cochords song, which I enjoyed. A Tenacious D song, which felt particularly topical to happen to hear this week.

[out-of-this-dimension]

Hypothetically Rewriting Assault’s Story + Some General Assault Opinions

There’s a game my husband and I like to play when we watch a movie, play a game, or read a book that has a story that we don’t really enjoy or we enjoy certain parts of but not others.  We look at things we’d keep and things we’d change and we build a story from there-- sort of like an AU but we don’t really go into the writing part, we just stick to theorizing and mapping a general story.

I decided to play that game with Star Fox.  Not because I think Star Fox has a bad story but because sometimes I think the stories could have been handled better.  Note: for the rewrite game, I only really look at story, even for video games, I don’t really look at gameplay mechanics, but I do understand those have a lot to do with story potential so I do take it in as a factor... I just don’t bother to “rewrite” the mechanics, if that makes any sense at all.  Some of my list today will include boss encounters but I wouldn’t necessarily say those are mechanic-related... more like “event-related”.

I’ve mused a bit in the past about rewriting Adventures and Command and I do have plans to do a mock up of an Adventures remake eventually.  However, today I was thinking about how I would go about handling an Assault re-write in particular.  Much like Command and Adventures, I don’t have any beef with the core story but I do think there’s a few things that could’ve been better about Assault’s storyline-- like they had good ideas rolling but they didn’t quite refine them.

Under the cut because SUPER long.

My basic feelings on Assault are pretty positive.  I think the game is generally just fun and I like that it feels like the natural progression from SF64.  I liked getting to see planets we haven’t seen since the N64 era in better graphics and I liked seeing Star Wolf return.  I also just thought the aparoids were neat enemies. 

Generally speaking, though, when it comes to Assault, I think it suffers from the thing it tries to push the most-- the story.  I think a lot of people get caught up in thinking the story is better than it is because it’s the first game since SF64 that really follows the same Star Fox vibe without retelling the Lylat Wars.  Don’t get me wrong, the overall plot is great but the execution and pacing are... wonky.  Certain characterizations also take a hit in some regards but no one really talks about that when Command exists. That’s something we’ll talk about later on with this post.

That being said, Assault really does have a lot good going for it.  An absolute banger of a soundtrack, some great dialogue, a neat story synopsis, the introduction of cool characters like Panther and Beltino (who existed but was always off-screen), and just good levels.  

So, here’s what I would add, I suppose, if I were to somehow have the ability to rewrite Assault.  Originally I had this in paragraph form, but I’ve made it into more of a list under topic segments with main points bolded for your viewing pleasure.  Some of these points might be considered nitpicky and while I do understand that yes, this is a game about space animals, I do hold the developers in high enough regard to make a game with a continuity that makes sense.

The Story Changes

- Reduce Pigma’s storyline in Assault.  This is the biggest one for me because a bulk of the plotline feels like a giant chase to just get at Pigma and it feels like it derails from the actual plot with the aparoids.  We only go to Sargasso because of Pigma.  We only go to Fichina and then back to Meteo again, because of Pigma.  That’s 3 levels in a 10 level game devoted to just tracking down Pigma and chasing him.  While it makes the build up to fighting Pigma kind of nice, I personally feel like the plot could be reduced to 2 levels.  If Assault overall was a longer game, I could see them making it 3 levels.  Overall, though, in its current state, I feel like the side plot overstays its welcome and the aparoids promptly get shoved to the side in favor of “Oh no, we gotta get to Pigma!” And I get the main motive here is to show how the aparoids affect people and because of the build up, it does a good job at showing how utterly terrifying the aparoids are.  But it’s still too long given the length of Assault’s story. The only alternative to this is make Assault longer, which... honestly, it should be.  

- Revise the scene with Tricky.  I’m obviously not well-versed in dinosaur biology but I’m pretty sure dinos didn’t grow that fast from what studying I HAVE done.  And why is he suddenly king now?  Did his parents die?  He seems not affected by this at all?  Like it’s a funny scene with him, Fox, and Krystal, but it’s odd if you really look at it.  Give us, as players, more context because I’m still not even sure what happened to make Tricky suddenly the leader and... big.  As a note, you’re gonna hear me gripe a lot about the Sauria level in this post.

- The Star Wolf + Peppy sacrifice is a low effort way to raise tension/stakes and then cop out.  Oldest trick in the book, imo, is to act like you’re going to kill off important characters only for them to be alive miraculously.  And let’s face it, as an audience we all know they aren’t going to kill those characters because it’s Nintendo and those characters are too beloved.  I would’ve forgiven them for only doing this with Peppy or Star Wolf, but when you tack them both together and throw in the fact they make it seem like you’re going to have to kill General Pepper too... yeah, it’s just a bit much of the same trope over and over again.  I wanted to put a note in here about how I’m fine with the Great Fox being “sacrificed” but overall, it needed to return to the series because of it’s icon status, but I think that’s more of a gripe at Command instead of Assault.

- Keep Pigma alive.  This will conflict with a point I have later on about the game consistently having characters cheat death for easy drama points but with Pigma, I would’ve kept him fully alive... but maybe with some physical damage from the aparoids.  I understand he’s semi-alive in Command and tbh I don’t know where I stand on that.  Why keep Pigma alive, you might ask?  I feel like his character has a lot more potential than being “just the greedy guy”.  Like he’s got good potential future villain material for future games and... if I’m honest?  I just don’t see Nintendo wanting to keep Pigma dead so why even bother killing him off?  They couldn’t even commit to him being dead in Command anyways so it seems very moot.

- Bring Bill and Katt back.  Assault is acts a bit like a big reunion of all of our SF64 favorites but our two favorite side characters are suspiciously missing.  Wouldn’t Bill be out on the front lines fighting against Andrew in the beginning?  Or maybe back in Katina?  And wouldn’t Katt inevitably show up in the midst of the invasion, maybe to pointedly check in on Falco?

- Bring Andrew back for the final fight. I think Andrew being defeated early into the game is fine overall but I think bringing him back in for a reunion final fight against the aparoids would serve to really solidify that it’s really everyone vs the invading aparoid force.  It would show that not only is Star Wolf willing to put aside their differences but so is basically everyone in the Lylat System in the name of survival.  Imagine the Venomians and Cornerians working together against an aparoid fleet, giving Star Fox and Star Wolf time to attack the queen?  I just think it’d be neat and it’d open up the potential for some fun banter mid-mission.  I do understand that quite a few people consider Andrew canonically dead after Assault but personally, I feel that his defeat left his fate questionable (I’m a staunch believer that unless there’s a body, they’re probably alive, especially for Nintendo games because, again, they never like to kill people off) so him returning in Command never really bothered me.  

- In general, reconsider some of the character portrayals.  Unfortunately, when a series has a different studio for each game, character portrayals will inevitably have inconsistencies.  While I give Namco a lot of credit for putting in oodles and oodles of detail into the game (particularly the levels), I think they failed in their portrayal of Fox, at the least, and Wolf is a considerable offender as well.  While it’s obvious that Fox in Adventures was effectively modeled off of Sabre even in terms of personality, Rareware was at least able to justify Fox’s newfound jaded attitude with the passing of many years and a distinct lack of steady income, resulting in the team being in disarray.  Assault’s Fox is a stark contrast to his cynical interpretation with seemingly no explanation other than maybe “Oh, I have more money and a gf, maybe I should behave myself”.  As if the sudden change in personality wasn’t random, Fox also just seems very blah, like a blank slate stereotypical shooter game protagonist dude with little to no emotion.  Wolf is less obvious but gets slated into a mentor-like role midway through the game and ends up in a respectful rivalry with Fox... which there’s nothing inherently wrong with that except for it happening abruptly (and, I mean, Peppy is right there).  But I take less issue with this and more of an issue with the fact that there’s an entire level establishing that Wolf now runs a crime den with effectively what seems to be an army and no one bats an eye at this.  He doesn’t even call on them to help with the aparoids.  Did they all die when the aparoids attacked Meteo?  Are they safe somewhere else?  Where do they go?  How was Sargasso able to operate without the CDF being on their doorstep with warrants for arrests?

- Don’t kill all the dinosaurs.  A bit of a dramatic statement but the ending screen that showed all the damage to Sauria really bothered me.  While I understand that the dinosaurs had less of a chance against the aparoids than a more technology-focused society like Corneria, I was a bit disappointed that the decision was made to just state that a lot of tribes had been wiped out.  I know this could easily be retconned in a future game and I feel like it should be.  “But why, Amalia?  Why are you disappointed by that?”  1) It’s a little too grimdark for my tastes.  2) The fact it all happened off-screen felt very hand-wavy.  And 3) It brings into question the entire point of Adventures.  Why did we bother to save this planet if it was going to be reduced to rubble and ash 1 year later?  Where were the Krazoa in all of this?  Why did they not make an appearance at all to try to stop the invasion with their alleged powers?  It just raises too many weird questions and I feel like Namco didn’t think it through too much.  Which I mean, sure.  Family, kiddo game.  I’m not asking for bigbrain plot and lore but I’m squinting at this bit because it does feel very contrary to the lore from the previous game.

- Make the aparoids more relevant.  As nice as it is to have a random bad guy from another galaxy, I feel like there was more that could be done with the aparoids in terms of their origins.  Tiny things, mind you, not huge revelations.  Off the top of my head, they could have been tied into Krystal’s backstory to help alleviate some of the complaints that she was too random to be added to the series’ main cast.  Alternatively, they could have been a product of Andross or even a weapon prototype from Corneria that fled the lab (I actually thought the game was leaning in that direction for a bit then just Nothing Happened).  I get that the vagueness of their origins leaves room for people to speculate and speculation is nice but... when you leave too many things unknown, it starts to feel less like giving fans room to interpret and more like just doing random things for the sake of it.  I think a lore tidbit here or there would work wonders for the aparoids instead of leaving them as just borg/zerg clones.

Level-Based Changes

- Add either Aparoid RedEye or Aparoid General Scales as a boss to Sauria.  Given that this level mysteriously lacks a boss, which is just weird compared to the other levels, I think that they had the opportunity to add something cool to go along with the cinematic feel they were going for with Assault.  Assault’s cutscenes do play in a movie-like fashion and it’s clear they’re trying to make the game as epic as possible.  It’s a shame they had so much fodder for a great boss here but they failed to go through with it.  Alternatively: Add a Krazoa-Aparoid fusion.  Why?  Because Star Fox is about cool epic sci-fi and that would be cool epic sci-fi incarnate.

- Add a boss to the Aparoid Homeworld Level, aka the penultimate level.  Another one I felt was personally weird that there was no “final defense system” to challenge the team.  Would be cool to do an aerial battle over the aparoid planet with some giant flying aparoid.

- Be kinder to Sauria.  The level had some good homages but overall was incredibly small and incredibly short.  It felt like a bone tossed to Adventures fans but was not entirely true to the setting built by Rareware.  I’m... not even sure where the Sauria level is supposed to take place?  I presume it’s Walled City but it doesn’t really have the same color scheme or aesthetic?  Also where is my revised Adventures music?  Why do all the other levels get it but Sauria doesn’t? 

- Put some of those funky items from the multiplayer into the main campaign.  I don’t know why some of these things, items especially, were omitted unless it was purely due to time constraints.  I remember having missile launchers and jetpacks in the multiplayer and was a bit sad that they were not in the main campaign.  Retuning the levels and adding those in would be a nice breath of fresh air for the more tedious on-foot missions.

- More levels.  Self-explanatory.  Still sad we didn’t get the Zoness or Titania levels in the single-player mode.  

I think all of the above changes would improve the game, though I recognize all of this is being said 16 years later after lots of time to contemplate Assault’s weaker points.  I’m not entirely certain how long Star Fox Assault took to develop but given that there’s obviously quite a bit scrapped from the game (an entire arcade mode was scrapped as well), I’m going to assume that the studio felt pressured to shove the game out the door and into the hands of customers.  It’s a shame, really, because I think a little bit longer in the oven would have done a lot of good.  Still, the product we got was good in its own right and a game that many people look back on fondly.  I haven’t gotten to replay it in years but I hope to quite soon.

You might wonder why I bothered typing this all out and I guess my point was this-- Assault was great but it wasn’t perfect, and while a lot of other games fall under a crushing amount of scrutiny, Assault seems to dodge it.  And don’t get me wrong-- I adore Assault.  But given that not many takes exist out there about rewriting it, I decided to give it a shot.  For variety’s sake.  

I do want to a mock up of a revised Assault story, which I think I will get to work on after completing this while all my ideas are still fresh in mind.  So stay tuned for that sometime in the near future.  I will also be doing my Adventures mock up at some point but probably not for a little bit as I do wanna focus some of my free time on actual fic-writing.

Anyways, if you stuck around this long, thank you for reading!  Have any changes you’d like to see to Assault if you could time machine your way back to the early 2000s?  Feel free to post in the comments, I’d love to read your ideas!

[inkla-kirisame]

Full moon (Werewolf! Razor x reader)

Supernatural AU

About the reader: they are a Pyro Wizard, and their fight style is like Childe’s but without the spear and with a catalism, they also has a familiar (a “cat” named Iblis)

I'm surprised that my Baizhu post is so popular (by my standards)

And take a look at my attempt to make something with a gender neutral reader

(PS: The GIF it’s not mine, I found it on Google)

Werewolves, one of the most feared creatures in Teyvat

This was because of their transformation during the full moon, were they become more aggressive

Many cities closed their doors when the full moon appeared in order to protect their citizens from them

The Knights of Favonius were obviously occupied with every full moon, it was better to save everyone they could than no one

Who were you in this? One of the newest Knights of Favonius and Lisa's prentice, you also had a Pyro vision

You kinda hated werewolves, why? Because you were an orphan because of them, you actually live near Springvale and they were hunters, ironic, you though, because what they hunted ended up hunting them

Still you kinda hated them, they didn't wanted you to become nothing else than a hunter, one time Lisa admired your knowledge and offer you to go to Sumeru academy but your parents refused, you also always returned your books on time so Lisa gave you permission to take more books and a more time to have them, your parents often hid them or even destroy them so you could focus on becoming a hunter

They were also nasty to say the least, even Draff admired their dedication but hated they ideals and methods, sometimes hunting for fun, need or simply because they thought it might be a danger if you don't kill a creature now

But after their death you were free to do whatever you wanted, so you went to Sumeru academy and returned to Monstadt and learned things from Lisa and later, becoming the newest member of the Knights of Favonius

Kaeya commonly tried to flirt with you, you always say no, the succubus was disappointed but still tried to flirt with you

Jean and Lisa liked you a lot, you were like the secretary of the Knights, reminded them of certain events

Amber, our ‘favorite’ bunny girl, and Klee always were with you, because you were in their therms, the coolest little sister (because you were the youngest Knight)

For Sucrose, you were one of the Knights who understood her, and Albedo liked you a lot

So everyone liked you, and they knew not to mess with you, specially in battle

You were a calm boy/girl every other aspect with the exception of the battlefield, you were a monster in there, everyone who knew about you and were your enemies were afraid of you

It was a calm evening, you were having a cup of (tea or coffee) with your (favorite dessert) while reading a book, sure nothing out of the ordinary happened with the exception of the people and the Knights bring materials for the roadblock

They only had a weak before the full moon

"(Y/N)!" You turned around to see your teacher, Lisa in front of you "I knew you were here, I need to ask you something"

"What do you need Lisa?" You said taking a sip of your cup

"Well, you know that in one week is the full moon, but I'm a little thigh with my duties, can you deliver a package for me?"

You knew that her duties were going to get the books not returned, and there were many, so you would obviously accepted but not without the details

"For who and where?"

"A boy, he is a little taller than you, has silver hair, red eyes and has eye bags, he is dress up with some green pants, an orange shirt, and a hooded jacket of a dark brown color, in Wolvendom"

“I see, you know that a little risky, right?” You knew it, entering Wolvendom was like ventured into the wolf’s den, it was more dangerous this days

“Please (Y/N), I really need your help, plus, he probably will like you”

“Who is ‘he’”

“Oh, right, the name of the boy, the one who I need to deliver his things, is Razor”

“Razor? I feel sorry for the guy... his parents must really loved him”

Lisa’s eyes filled with sadness

“He is an orphan, like you, but he is a little bit special”

“Hmmmm?”

“Anyways, will you do it?”

“Yeah, sure, I don’t have anything to do, plus, I need some wolfhooks”

“Oh, while you are on that, can you bring me some?”

“Sure” you ended up your food and were about to pay but Lisa handed the money to pay the bill

“This time I pay” she blinked an eye to you “I hope you had fun in Wolvendom” you only gave her the book back and walked to the bridge of the city

“Iblis... come”

“I’m here, mister/mistress (Y/N)” a black cat with some amber like scars and fire eyes “I suppose we are going to Helldom”

“You really hate wolves and dogs despite not being a ‘cat’”

“Ha, ha, very funny mister/mistress” the familiar said and transformed intro a giant creature, like a puma but little bigger

“It won’t take long, promise” you said while you mounted the creature

The cat simply looked the path to Wolvendom

“Promise me you’ll give me fish”

“Of course”

The cat then jumped to the water and began to run in it

Once they arrived to the land of the wolves, the cat returned to a little lantern that you carried away

“Despite you aren’t a cat, you really act like one.... so quiet... scares me, now, where is this Razor?”

You began walking around the woods in order to find the boy

“Ah, it seems it’s going to rain” you said looking at the sky slowly turning gray while you holded your hat from blowing off

Just then, you sore you could see something in the bushes, probably a wolf, you knew that it wasn’t a good idea to fight him, because 1: you knew that a hurt wolf will make you the target of the whole pack and 2: you needed to bring the pack to 'Razor'

“Who is there?” Your only response where the bushes moving and then a boy appeared, green pants, orange shirt, dark brown hooded jacket, silver hair and red eyes with eye bags, yep this was the person Lisa asked you to deliver the package “Razor, right?” The only thing Lisa didn’t told you was that Razor was a werewolf, maybe that's why he was special

“Yes... you are?”

“(Y/N), (Y/N) (L/N)”

“You smell like... Lisa... you are Knight?”

Geese, this boy seriously need some classes of language, if he was at Sumeru, he probably be mocked by everyone

“Yes I'm a knight” you gave him the package “it’s from Lisa”

“Ah! Painkillers!” His ears twitched his ear in happiness “thanks, why Lisa not came?”

“She was busy with the librarian duties... you know, books not returned on time”

“Ah, yes, I know that” you began walking away “where you going?

“Im going for wolfhooks” Razor stopped you and gave you some that were stuck in his tail or hair, his tail was moving with excitement

“Thanks... but I actually need some more” you said coldly, you honestly felt uncomfortable and it wasn’t Razor’s fault, it was because you saw the death of your parents and you were kinda afraid of werewolves because of that

“Oh, I know a place where they grow” he said tooking your hand but before he could drag you there, Iblis came out and tried to scratch him and unfortunately, Razor released some electricity, causing an overloaded reaction

Razor ended up crushing in a tree and Iblis flied to the ground, you on the other hand, ended up in some bushes

“Argggg..... IBLIS!!!” At that moment the familiar ended up in the floor like he was in a lot of pain, Razor saw that

“Mister/mistress, I’m sorry...” the cat returned to the lantern while you cleaned your self

“Sigh, now what’s the worst that can happen now?” Then it rained

Razor then guided you to a cave, there was some dried wood, it could be used for a bonfire

While you prepared the bonfire, Razor went for something

“Thanks Iblis...”

“I’m sorry” he said while walking to the bonfire in order to light it up

You simply cover yourself with your arms trying to get warmer with no success until you feel something fluffy, like a wool or fur, being warped around you

"You seem cold"

"Yeah, maybe it doesn't have to be because we were out in the rain like for like fifteen minutes"

"Sorry, I got lost"

".... "

"Why are you cold?"

"Because I'm-"

"No, not that, cold to me"

"I don't like werewolves..."

"Why? Did they attacked you?"

"No, they killed my parents"

"They... They kill your lupical?"

"Lupical?"

"Family"

"Yep, they killed them, but I honestly owe them for that"

"You hated your Lupical?"

"Well, I loved them and that but they wanted me to become something I didn't want to become, so when they died I was free to do whatever I wanted" you said looking at the ceiling of the cave "by the way, did your painkillers survived the crush?"

He forgot that he had them with him when that crazy cat attacked him, unfortunately, the painkillers were destroyed by the impact

"Iblis"

"Yes, mister/mistress?"

"I won't give you fish or milk in a week" you turned around to see the werewolf "I'm sorry for this, I will make you some new painkillers in compensation"

"Thanks, but not worry for this, not necessary, only need them for transformation"

"It's very painful, right?" He nodded "I'm not a werewolf but I understand your pain, when I made a pact, he almost roasted me alive, it took me some time to get the burns away"

He looked confused, you two looked like you knew each other for so long

"Why he tried to roast you?" Said while looking at the feline creature

"Well, some familiars like to make you a test to see if you are worthy of them, that why he almost burned me alive" you giggle a little when you remember that day "but you suffer that pain every month, for how long are you a werewolf?"

"I... Not know.... I was like this all my life... Or at least from what I remember" he paused a little "I never accostumed to the pain"

You patted his head while giving him space besides you

"It seems that the rain won't stop sooner, we will have to collect the ingredients for the painkillers while it rains... Dang it..."

"You hate rain?"

"No, but I'm a Pyro user, my powers won't work during the rain if something attack us

"I have an electro vision, I can help you" Razor said excited while his tail moved with happiness "I protect you and you get the green things"

"Sound good for me, Iblis, you stay here and keep the fire alive"

"Understood..."

You left the blanket and gesture Razor to follow you, which he did

You must have been out there for a good while since you felt really cold and you didn't have all the things to make the painkillers

"We should return to cave"

"No, it's fine, we are almost finished" you said trembling from the cold

"You not look good"

"It's fine, let's just get the last thing"

Razor sighed internally and putted you his coat to at least make you a little more warmer

"We get it, we come back"

"Fine..."

You began searching the last herb while Razor guarded you, but he clearly was worried about you, you looked tired and he could sore that you were freezing

"Got it!"

You turned around to see Razor coming towards you and he grabbed you in a bridal style, you freaked out

"What are you doing!?"

"We are going back to cave, we will be faster this way" He said and began to run

You hugged Razor by the neck in fear you might accidentally slipped off his arms

When you arrived back at the cave, the feline creature almost had a heart attack

"Mister/mistress, take off your clothes!!! You can't be around with wet clothes, you might catch a cold!"

"I think I might already have... But I don't have spare clothes, and you know it!"

Then Razor gave you back his blanket

"Use for cover, I get us clothes while others dry"

"Thanks"

Once Razor was out of view, your familiar began to order you to take off your wet clothes which you did and you covered yourself with the blanket and wait for him to arrive with clothes

When he arrived, he looked at you while you stare at him uncomfortable

"Razor, I need privacy..."

"Oh" he turned around and faced the wall of the cave "I not look until you tell me to look"

"Thanks..."

In a day like this, you probably would be enjoying a hot chocolate while you were near the fire or taking a long and warm bath, it was rare for you to be outside in the rain, you weren't that accostumed to the rain

"Now you can turn around"

You both simply ate some meat he had in silence and after that you both went to sleep

The next morning, as you predicted, you had a fever

Razor was watching you while that fur ball that is your familiar went for ingredients for a chicken soup to make you feel better

"Razor, I'm cold"

"Cold? You burn!!!" It was part true, when you have fevers, your Pyro Vision is more a curse than a blessing, your temperature is more higher than the average temperature of a person with fever and touching you it was like touching a burning wood

"Can you bring me my bag? I think I have medicine in there"

He immediately bring you the bag, fortunately, all of you potions survived the explosion of yesterday

"bleh, I'll never accostumed to the taste of this things"

"What was in?"

"You probably don't want to know"

You looked outside, it wasn't raining anymore and it was a very calm morning

"Here, I made it" the silver haired boy gave you some hash browns but with the shape of a paw

"Thanks" you were kinda afraid to taste the hash browns because you didn't knew if he knew how to cook, but you decided to trust Razor with this

And to your surprise, the hash browns were good

"I didn't knew you knew how to cook Razor"

"Lisa show me"

"If you want, I can show you more things"

After Iblis came back with fowls for the soup and ate quietly, you began making the painkillers

Thankfully, you bring your portable alchemy kit, you never knew when you would really need it so you always carry it with you

Razor watched you grind some of the herbs you collect while you simply put a lizard tail in a cauldron, he really felt like he was going to barf at the awful smell and the things you put in the cauldron

"You really don't like the smell..."

"It smells horrible"

"I don't blame you, it might taste horrible and smells horrible but every medicine or potion taste horrible or smells like this"

Once you ended the potion, you closed the cauldron with an special lid and rest on one rock with Razor's blanket

"Let the mix rest for a while Razor, or it might turn you into a frog"

He immediately went with you, afraid of the cauldron, thinking it magically began to walk and turn him into a frog

"It won't turn into one if you don't drink what inside"

That at least calm him a little

"Your Lupical... How they were?"

"They were two hunters, I was supposed to be a hunter like them but I was a sucker for books and knowledge, despite they wanted me to be smart, they also wanted me to hunt with them, to which I didn't want to do it... More than one time they hid my book so I would returned them late or destroy them" you sighed "at least they didn't got what they wanted"

"What they hunt?"

"Rabbits, boards, some little animals and..."

"And?"

"Wolves...." You paused a little "they also helped with the protection of the city during full moon... Despite being my family, they were nasty people... One time I heard them planning to hunt the all wolves in Wolvendom... I guess I was the black sheep of the family"

"And you want kill wolves?"

"No, I don't want to... I'm not like them, if you ask me, I don't kill for fun, I only do it when it's necessary"

"What you think about me?"

"About you... Hmmm.... Well, you are nice, kind, a little naive and you really seem to care about your Lupical, unlike me, because I'm a... Lone wolf" he laughed a little by your response

"You not feel lonely?"

"Well... I have Iblis, Lisa is technically the one in charge of me... The Knights could be like the closest thing to a family but... I accostumed to be lonely and it's always been like that"

Razor look at you with pity, after all, he was accostumed to be in company of his pack and lone wolfs were a rare thing

"I be with you!"

You look at him with an unamused face

"When did I agree to that? Besides, you don't have your Lupical to take care of"

"But... You are lupical, lupical doesn't need to be alone"

"I'm fine on my own, but if you really want to, I think you won't leave me alone"

Then he hugged you

"I not fail you"

After a while, the painkillers were done and you two had to bid your farewells, it was safer that Razor stayed with his pack in Wolvendom till the full moon is gone

"Master?"

"what?"

"do you perhaps like that werewolf?"

"Wha- of course not! Not in that way!"

"I didn't say that you liked him that way"

"When we arrive home, I'll give you a very cold bath"

The feline just closed his eyes, knowing that he'll suffer during that bath, he probably would prefer another place to 'clean' himself

-------

If you want to request I probably recommend you to wait a little, I'm planning on remaking the request list

Why Razor is a werewolf? Because why not? He's wolf boy, if he has to be a supernatural creature, it's 100% that he's a werewolf, I bet y'all think the same (if not, give me the clown wig please)

Wishing everyone luck on Venti's Rerun, I Will totally pull because I didn't get him cause someone came home, not pointing fingers, but it was a broke-ass astrologist (I latter find out how pity works and you know the rest), if he doesn't, Childe probably will... (I'm with 50/50, knowing my luck, I probably get c1 of any other 5* with the exception of Mona (she's C1)

I'm going to upload more things, probably soon but who knows?

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Part 26 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 50,293

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs.

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

A/N: This isn’t my favorite chapter, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year and I figured if I don’t post it now, I’ll never move on to the next. Additionally, as always, I live for feedback. 😉

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 26:

(Words: 2,825)

The bus ride will probably get boring soon, or at least as long as the girls stay asleep, but even as quiet as it is, it’s almost a perfect morning. Being early (around 6:00, I think?), there’s barely any light except street lamps and car lights, but some of the clouds on the right have caught a pretty bluish purple tinge. It reminds me of that Rainbow Fish book Aunt May used to read to me as a kid. To make it better, the morning air is chilly enough that the driver turned the heaters on low so it’s wrapped-in-a-blanket-while-it-snows warm in here. Although that also might be why, apart from general dirt and old gum, the strongest smell on the bus is salty grease— since the nearest heater is under the seat Flash spilled french fries and chicken nuggets in yesterday. It could be worse, though. I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad smell and the traffic isn’t horrible. It’s not the best, but it could definitely be louder and a lot slower. The field of flowing red tail lights ahead of us is oddly comforting, like a snail-slow pasture of mechanical color. 

All in all, it’s a pretty cozy start for a dreaded five hour bus ride. It’s giving me quiet time to think. So that’s where I’m at. Or should be. I got some stuff organized in my head last night even if I keep getting distracted now. Well, it was more like a couple hours ago, since I wasn’t able to get to sleep for so long after we said goodnight. But anyway, I’m trying to focus. It’s just hard, even with both of them sleeping.

From my and Ned’s spot behind them, watching the girls’ heads gently shake and bump against each other as the bus shudders through potholes is kind of calming. They seem so peaceful from this angle, like two people who’ve never pranked me and Ned to the point we were nearly suspended, or kept us awake and annoyed by asking paradoxical hypothetical questions because they know how Ned and I will argue for days if we don’t agree on an answer, or anything else like that. It’s like finding two mischievous cats sleeping, curled up on a chair. It’s easier to appreciate them when they aren’t causing chaos. But it’s not that hard to appreciate them when they are anyway.

Though Ned and I won’t admit it when they’re fully awake, seeing their heads smack into the seat in front of them each time the bus lurched to a halt at stoplights (during the first ten minutes after they’d fallen asleep) was funnier than it should’ve been. Even knowing then that we wouldn’t mention it later didn’t stop us from exchanging silent laughs when they leaned back up, muttering unintelligible complaints before settling their heads back onto one another. For the last couple stoplights before the highway, at least, we decided to be better friends. We both stood up with one leg on the floor and one knee on our own seat so we could easily hold their foreheads back each time it happened. Again, I wouldn’t admit this out loud, even to Ned, but it’s a little bit funny that Ned was a split second slower than me, so while I kept catching MJ’s head before the stop, he half-smacked Y/N’s forehead, like a really-close-to-the-floor basketball dribble, and made a wincing face each time. A lot of times. But it did stop her from colliding with the seat, and she didn’t wake up or complain. 

As nice as it is with them and almost everyone else sleeping through the dark, quiet first hour of the bus trek back to New York, I am excited for her and MJ to wake up. Whenever that is. I’ve missed them. 

But anyway, I really need to focus. God. I’m not doing a great job of that this morning. Apparently. So I’m focusing now. It’s like Ned said. I need to be honest with myself. 

Okay. 

Alright. 

No distractions. 

I’m going to set myself straight now, before we get back, so I can make a game plan and be more decisive and make less mistakes. Fewer? Yeah, fewer mistakes. She’s told me that half a dozen times this since she read that grammar book last summer. But that’s not important.

If I’m being honest... I think I’ve avoided the real possibility that things could work out between us because it felt too risky. And I make some dumb, impulsive choices. So that’s saying a lot. If she said no, what’s the worst that could happen? May and Ned have been asking me that for months, and it’s been so frustrating. The answer should be obvious. The worst thing wouldn’t be the rejection, it’d be if it made her uncomfortable and she broke off our friendship. Or, even if she stuck around, if our friendship changed and I had to watch her get more and more distant, knowing it was my fault and nothing would ever go back to normal. 

Those were the worst — and, I thought, most probable — possibilities. For months I’ve been certain that if anything changed, everything would, and it’d all go to shit. So I kept dodging it. And dodging her before the trip. But, then, things did change this weekend. Things are changing. We fought, and it was super shitty and awful and a total nightmare fiasco, but we made up. And she seemed almost as relieved as me when we did. Now we even have this pact about spending more time together. I know it’s officially only in the name of friendship, but something’s… different. I feel it, and I think she does too. And it doesn’t seem bad. That’s the craziest part. I mean, she even kissed me last night. On the cheek, but still. “Keep it.” Maybe May’s not ridiculous: she really might feel the same way. 

I’ve been texting her this morning, actually. Aunt May. I had to admit that I’m happy she forced me to do the forehead kiss thing last night. As annoyed as I was that she and Ned ganged up on me like that, I can’t dispute the results. She kissed me! Kind of. (To be fair, she did hit my mouth a little bit even if it was an accident.) At first it made me wonder if she heard any of Ned’s shout-comments before I could turn the t.v. up to cover what he was saying. But I doubt it. Even if she felt the same way, I know her too well to think she wouldn’t freak out more and enough that it’d be noticable. Yeah, no, I’d definitely have been able to tell if she’d heard him saying things like, “Nobody’s saying you have to tell her that you googled the probability of high school sweethearts getting married that time she saved your ass on that Bronte essay, but yeah, Aunt May’s right! Just ask her to come over and either talk to her or do the hair/forehead thing!” Anyway, May’s on board with her coming over a lot this week and next week and giving us some space. So are Ned and MJ. Ned said they agreed on giving us two weeks (starting tomorrow) without them hanging out after school. And who knows, if the dance goes really well, maybe it’ll be normal for us to hang out, just us, without the whole group. Because… well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. 

I’ll admit, they’re the best friends I could ever have. All three of them. 

And it’s nice to have them all here now, Ned to my left and the girls in front of us. It’s even nicer to be outside of class or the city or crazy study sessions and have had a short breather from all that (despite the shitshow before we smoothed things over and could enjoy it). To be somewhere chill together. Yesterday and today probably feel even better because the last few days, or even weeks… no— months, if I’m being honest— have had me in a kind of less than happy place. But that’s over now. We’re all here and things are finally good. I just wish the girls would wake up, especially since Ned’s back on his phone. Again. 

Yesterday, everybody hung out for most of the afternoon, but being in the whole decathlon group isn’t the same as just being the four of us. Or two. 

Speaking of two— Ned being away during this next week or two is going to make everything so… unfiltered. New. Without his interference and being able to talk to him as often as normal, it’ll mostly just be her and me. Nobody to distract attention or blame stuff on or help me out when I’m doing something dumb (which is often). Like, for example, last night when I maybe let my excitement get the better of me and I might’ve jumped on the bed and thrown a pillow that accidentally broke the lamp on the nightstand. While I don’t really think writing that “Bill Mr. Harrington” note with the school’s address was Ned’s best idea, it helped me not care too much, enough that I didn’t do something dumber like actually tell Mr. Harrington. It might come back to bite us, though. Still, he was genuinely helpful this morning when Flash showed up too. 

While we were hanging out in the girls’ room waiting for them to finish packing, there was a knock on the door. I figured it was Mr. Harrington about to yell at me and Ned for the broken lamp, so I motioned to Ned to shut up and move closer to the head of the bed we were already sitting on where, courtesy of the wall between the bedroom and bathroom, he wouldn’t be able to see us as long as he stayed by the doorway. MJ gave us an odd glance before she got up to answer it. Her annoyed, “What are you doing here?” didn’t immediately disqualify Mr. Harrington, but the sound of Flash’s voice saying, “I, uh, brought you guys some muffins,” made me tense at the first syllable.

“The free muffins they give us for breakfast?”

MJ’s dripping sarcasm nearly made me laugh even though I couldn’t see her, but Y/N turning from her suitcase and walking over to join them killed it still in my throat. 

“Nope,” he said. “They’re fancy muffins from a bakery a few miles away.”

I wanted to roll my eyes out of my skull.

She may not like him, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong about him being into her. What a dumb way to impress someone. “Fancy muffins.”

“Expensive?” MJ asked. Even without seeing her face, I could tell she was giving him the squint death stare. It’s scary to have to respond to that face if you don’t know what the right answer is.

“Yes, especially with the delivery fee,” he said, sounding prepared for the question, “but they’re from a small local place, not a chain, which I figured you guys would appreciate. Actually, I think you’d like the woman who owns it, she was super grouchy and hard to convince.”

“Convince?”

“They don’t normally deliver at 5 in the morning.”

“Oh, so you thought you could just—”

“What kind did you get?” 

That’s one of the things I like about Y/N. She knows how to manage tempers and when to jump in; she has Flash and MJ down to a science. In that moment, though, I wanted MJ to fire her most confrontational questions at him with no mercy.

“Well, they’re all apology muffins—” I heard MJ scoff. Exactly. She gets it. “But I got blueberry, chocolate, obviously, coffee, cranberry orange, maple, I think that one has chicken in it or something, and banana nut.”

Ned and I turned towards each other with silent smirks at the last one. It’s a dumb joke, but under normal circumstances we’d never resist—

“Cool. Since you’ve brought so many, you can come in.”

Sometimes MJ drives me up the wall. This was one of those times. 

I mentally took back my agreement with her scoff.

The three of them came into the room, and for a couple seconds, Flash didn’t see us. The girls were closer to the window than they were to the wall and the bed Ned and I were sitting on, and he didn’t look behind him. Until MJ pointed us out directly.

“You can give them some too,” she said, her expression bordering on smug. “Apology muffins, right?”

Flash froze for a second. I straightened my back. Neither Ned or I said anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Of course.”

Surprisingly, he shook his shoulders like a bug just buzzed by his head and walked over, opening a giant rectangle of a box up to us. 

“Take however many you guys want.”

I stared at him, not moving. Nobody flinched. Then I realized he was tapping the side of the box with his thumb. Not in an asshole come on, hurry up way, but in an anxious way. Just as I started to reach toward the box, Y/N asked:

“Why’d you get so many of the coffee ones?”

Flash looked away at just the right second. 

Did I technically cave first by reaching into the box? Yes. But did anyone see? No.

Although, I guess he technically caved by offering us the muffins in the first place. Ha. All the same, I took a blueberry one. 

“They’re my dad’s favorite. I wanted to surprise him, you know? But I can’t even get a hold of.... Um, are your guys’ parents going to pick you up when we get there, or are you actually staying for school?”

“Staying.”

“All of you?” 

He looked around to ask all of us, even me and Ned. We all nodded. When he looked at me, though, his eyes twitched. It’s a face I’ve gotten a lot before. He realized he said parents. 

“You said these are orange cranberry?” Ned asked, pointing. 

Flash nodded. 

“They’re solid, though the banana nut ones are probably the best.”

As I said, under normal circumstances, like if one of the girls had said it, I would’ve laughed right then, but I’m not used to laughing around Flash. Ned, who usually follows that same rule, shook his head and grinned, if a little bit... nervously?

“Hell no!” he said, pretending to be mildly outraged. “I’m not eating banana-bust-a-nut muffins.”

A second surprise: Flash tilted his head and paused, clearly as stunned to be told a joke by Ned as the rest of us were to witness it— and laughed. So did everyone else. It was only for a few seconds, like literally three quick seconds, but for the first time for as long as I can remember, all of us were laughing with Flash. It stopped almost as soon as it started. 

Tension crept back in soon so he left pretty quickly after that with an awkward, “See you guys in a few.” Thank god. 

The girls finished tidying their room and going over the homework that’s due today (which we did last week since we knew we’d never get it done on the trip), before forcing me and Ned into the hallway so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t need to check our room for us and potentially find the broken lamp. 

And then, pretty soon, we ended up on the warm bus, loaded in with everyone else. It seemed like everybody but Ned and I were too quiet and sleepy and squinty to be able to talk much before dozing off or staring blankly out the window or scrolling social media on their phones, the latter two options leading to the first in most cases. At this point, I think Ned, Flash, and I are the only ones still awake. 

I’m going to work at tolerating him. As long as he doesn’t cross any lines with anybody from now on, I won’t bait him either. (Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of that, especially recently.) I mean, his comment about his dad was hard to miss. And even when he said it, it wasn’t a shock. Everyone in our grade at some point has had to listen to Flash’s rambling excuses for his parents ignoring or forgetting to show up for school events. Maybe being a dick is just hereditary for him. Or a family tradition. 

I don’t remember how I got so off track. Where was I before? Oh yeah. Risk. Possibilities. The almost-worst case scenario that turned out not so bad. It’s been a messy weekend with plenty of re-evaluating, but the point is simple: I think I’ve got to give a few new things a try, and I’m excited to have a chance over the next couple weeks.

Next update: God only knows.

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[writingletterstothefire]

right where you left me

A/N: So here it is, a full 3 days after I said I’d post it. Things have been pretty crappy, so I apologize if there was anyone out there who actually cared about this fic. The idea came to me while listening to right where you left me by Taylor Swift. I had this image of like, okay, we know about Lorraine, but what if there was someone back in Texas still waiting for Javi, after all this time? And from that thought, came this. it’s not beta-read in the slightest, so I’m so sorry if there’s any typos or sentences that don’t sound right. Thanks, y’all. Enjoy.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: maybe some language?? abandonment, Javier Peña

Prom night was supposed to be the best night of your high school career. And at first, it really felt like it might be. Your best friend Javier Peña was taking you, and you had picked the perfect dress. You and Javi were going as friends, but you really thought that this might finally be the night that you worked up the courage to tell him how you felt. You’d been dancing around each other for months, and tonight was the night that you’d finally take your friendship to a new level.

At 8pm sharp, there was a knock on your door. Javi was always right on time. You walked down the stairs slowly, like you’d seen girls do in movies, but Javi just smiled up at you and went, “Hey, you actually look like a human instead of a troll today!”

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly ecstatic at the start of the night. By the time you got to the prom, though, you had calmed down and reminded yourself that Javi was prone to sticking his foot in his mouth. He was probably just not used to seeing you dressed up.

“You alright, squirt?” Javi asked as he helped you out of his truck and started to lead you into the school. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“No, I’m fine!” You smiled up at him, determined to have a good night. “Ready to force you to dance with me all night.”

Javi laughed at that. “I’ll give you three dances, alright squirt?”

“Deal!” You beamed up at him. Javi’s heart skipped a beat, like it always did when you smiled at him like that.

In the end, you got four and a half dances out of him. He wasn’t happy about it, but he would do anything you asked him to.

After the prom, you both ended up at the diner you worked at part-time, sharing a milkshake and a plate of fries. That was when the bomb dropped.

“I’m leaving,” he suddenly blurted out, halfway through the milkshake.

“Oh, okay, I’ll go get us a box—” you started to offer helpfully.

“No, I…” he grabbed your hand to stop you getting up, “I, uh, I’m going to Quantico. After graduation.”

Quantico was a conversation that had been looming over the two of you for the last three months. Javi wanted to go, and he wanted you to go up to Virginia with him. He begged you to at least apply to the schools in the area. He needed his best friend.

You’d been denied financial aid from the schools that you applied to.You would be staying in Texas. Eventually, with his father’s health declining after catching a bad bit of pneumonia, it had started to look like Javi might be staying in Texas too. But Chucho ended up making a full recovery, and insisted Javi went to Quantico to advance his career.

It seemed he would be taking his father’s advice. He would be leaving you.

But, you realized, the way Javi was telling you, the way his eyes were pleading with you now… It was almost as if he was waiting for you to ask him not to go. Javi would do anything you asked him to. But you couldn’t ask him to give up his future.

“I’m happy for you, Javi,” you managed to get out, tears collecting in your eyes as you smiled. “You’ve worked so hard to get there, you’re going to be amazing.”

Javi looked almost heartbroken. He had been so sure that you were going to yell and scream at him, beg him to please just stay. Yet, here you were, encouraging him to do the one thing he simultaneously wanted more than anything and didn’t want at all.

He just nodded silently and waited for you to finish the milkshake before taking you back home. You had both been anxious on the ride home. You knew it was now or never, because he was leaving in a week. The problem was that you weren’t going with him. Could you do it, knowing you’d be giving him a taste of what would never be?

You didn’t have time to think too hard about it before Javi had your face in his hands and was planting the sweetest kiss on your lips.

Before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “But, you’re leaving…”

The both of you stayed frozen for a few moments, before the tears in your eyes spilled over and you were rushing inside. Javi didn’t chase you, even though he wanted to.

The two of you avoided each other at school the following Monday. And then, a week later, he left.

Five years passed without much more than a few phone calls and a handful of letters passed between the two of you. You both chose to ignore the way that prom night ended. You needed each other too much. Even if it was a distanced friendship now, you chalked it up to growing up. Of course you weren’t going to be best friends forever, and it was foolish of you to consider that the distance wouldn’t change things.

But then, Javi walked into the diner. The same diner where he told you he was leaving. The same diner you still worked at every night, noon to close.

You couldn’t stop yourself from running up to him and grabbing him in a tight hug. He hugged you back, of course, squeezing you tightly and murmuring sweet nothings into your ear about how much he missed you.

“Javi, what are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be working for the DEA!” You squeezed him tighter, despite questioning his presence.

“What, I can’t visit home every once in a while, squirt?” He smirked that trademark smirk of his. You finally pulled back, crossing your arms over your chest and quirking an eyebrow.

“We haven’t seen you here since Christmas four years ago. And even then, only your dad saw you because you were only here for a night.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I need to visit more,” he grumbled. His energy shifted into a nervous one. “You know, I’m actually here to, uh, give you this. I wanted to give it to you in person.”

He pulled a small slip of paper from his jacket, and you felt the blood leaving your head. You’d seen so many of these in the past two years, but you supposed you were getting to that age now.

“I wanted you to hear it from me,” he said gently, “because you mean more to me than anything. There’s a plus-one, if you, uh, need it.”

His brow furrowed as he said it, as though he was upset at the idea of you having a plus-one, and you were so confused by his expression that you almost forgot to take the paper from him. The invitation. A wedding invitation. Javi, your Javi, was getting married. You could hear a pin drop in the silence of the diner, mostly empty now, save for a few tables quietly eating amongst themselves.

“Congratulations, oh my god,” you finally exclaimed, quickly hugging him quickly so that he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to overflow. You hoped you sounded excited enough to throw off suspicion.

The two of you caught up over a milkshake and a plate of fries, and for a moment you could almost forget that five years had passed. You could almost forget the wedding invitation burning a hole into your apron.

When he asked you about your relationships, you were embarrassed to tell the truth. But you did, because you couldn’t exactly lie to Javi. He was still your best friend, distance and time spent away aside. You told him the truth, that none of the guys you met were the right fit. It was hard to find a good guy in this small town, you had jested. It was true. The best one had left.

Eventually, Javi left with a slip of, “Lorraine’s waiting for me—,” and you cut him off with a pained smile and a, “It’s fine, no it’s totally fine, I have to finish my shift anyways!”

In the end, you couldn’t make yourself go to the wedding. You picked up an extra shift that night, and focused on polishing each piece of silverware until it sparkled.

You’d learn two days later that Javi left her at the altar. Well, that is to say, he never even made it to the altar. He didn’t arrive to the church at all. He simply turned around, and booked a flight back to Quantico, tux and all. He was on the first plane out.

You didn’t know if you wanted to slap him or kiss him. You figured that it didn’t matter. You’d never get the chance to do either one.

———————————————————————

Ten years passed after that. You saw Javi at some Christmases, and you were sure to give him hell for leaving a woman at the altar, but for the better half of ten years, you didn’t see him. When he went down to Columbia, he didn’t come home for holidays. He didn’t want to bring any trouble back up to Texas. It was understandable, but your heart ached every day.

You tried to move on. You’d been trying for fifteen years. But, if you were honest with yourself, there was just no one for you like Javi. No one could compare to him.

You were still working at the diner, but you’d been promoted. The old owner, when he passed away, left the entire thing in your name. He requested that his estate pay off the rest of the mortgage and overdue bills, and you were gifted the diner, completely debt free. You refused to just accept the free money, though. Along with your new duties as the owner, you still worked at the diner five nights per week. If you were honest with yourself, you didn’t really have anything else to do. Your cat had food and water, your plants were watered in the morning, and you didn’t have anyone waiting for you at home. So, every night you helped serve tables, run food, and even bus if it was busy enough. You were happy to work. It kept your mind off of how lonely you were.

You were working on closing up one cold, rainy night, when you heard the door open. You never got any patrons after 11pm, so you immediately grew suspicious. You subtly reached for the baseball bat you kept behind the counter.

“We’re closing up, can I help—,” you froze. Javi was standing in the diner soaking wet and shivering. “Oh my god, Javi?”

“H-Hey squirt,” he managed to get out through his chattering teeth.

You hurried over to him, shoving his jean jacket off his shoulders. “You’re going to make yourself sick in these wet clothes! Come on, I’ve got some stuff in the employee lost and found that might work.”

You quickly locked up the front and ushered a shaking Javi to the back room, shoving the first clothes you found that might fit him into his arms. He started stripping his shirt off before you could turn around, and you felt yourself going bright red. After an embarrassingly long moment of you being frozen in shock, you managed to spin around and hurry out to the front with a, “I’m gonna make you something warm to drink!”

Your shaky hands somehow threw two mugs of tea together, and you set them on a table just as Javi came out of the back dressed in oversized sweats and a tie dye hoodie. You offered a small smile and sat at the booth, before realizing it was the booth that you’d sat at together so many times. This was the booth that you’d sat at the night he told you he was leaving. And the night he’d invited you to his wedding.

He sat at the other side of the booth, his ears a bit pink as he bashfully avoided your eyes.

“T-Thanks for the clothes. I don’t know why I didn’t grab an umbrella as I left,” he ducked his head.

You just gently pushed the mug of tea closer to him. “So, what brings you here? What did I do to be graced with your presence on this fine night?”

You didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so snarky, but you saw Javi flinch at your words. His hands wrapped around the warm mug as he stared into the tea.

“I’m, uh… I’m back from Columbia. For good.”

That wasn’t what you’d expected. In your surprised state, you took a moment to examine Javi. This Javi was rugged and worn out. He had permanent bags under his eyes, worry lines in his forehead, a thick, prominent mustache on his lip where there used to be only peach fuzz. His shoulders were hunched over and tense, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them. And he was, you realized.

The man in front of you was not the boy you graduated high school with. He wasn’t even the man who left his wife at the altar. This man was seasoned and hard, well aware of the darkest horrors that the world possessed.

“What happened down there, Javi?” You had to ask. You knew from the way his jaw clenched that he didn’t want to talk about it, but you also knew that if he didn’t talk about it with you, then there was no one else who stood a chance.

And so, he told you. He recounted his struggles finding Escobar, and then Escobar’s escape. He told you about Escobar’s death, and then the rise of the Calí cartel. The things he’d thought he had to do for the cause. The things he would never repeat to anyone else for years to come. The nightmares that plagued his mind every night. And you listened to him. You didn’t interrupt, except to reach across the table and grab his hand, squeezing tightly every so often to remind him that you were here.You’d always be here, and you both knew that. Javi left and came back and then left again, and you stayed planted to the spot he left you in, waiting patiently for him to come back.

Javi finally finished recounting the stories from Columbia around two in the morning. You’d sat there, holding hands across the table for nearly three hours. You knew, in your heart, that it was time to tell Javi. If he accepted you, you’d go from there. If he rejected you, it was time to move on and try to find some semblance of happiness while you still had time.

“Javi, I—”

“I love you, squirt.”

You must have been looking at him like he’d just told you he was growing a third leg, because he burst out laughing. You couldn’t form a coherent thought. All that came out was a broken, “W-What?”

Javi just tilted his head at you. “Well… you can’t be all that surprised, can you? After all this time, you don’t know?”

“Javi… Javi, we’ve been friends for thirty years, but I’ve barely seen you for half of them. You were… You almost got married, Javi! To someone who wasn’t me! And you have the nerve to say I can’t be all that surprised?!” You knew the volume of your voice had risen substantially, but you didn’t care. He had no right to come into your diner and act like, after fifteen years, he had any right to spring this on you.

“Squirt, I…” Javi sighed, getting up and coming around to your side of the table. He sat next to you and picked up your hands, clasping them tightly in his own. “I messed up. I know. I thought you were better off without me, that you were going to go on to do bigger and better things, and you have, but I… I’m going to be selfish, squirt, for one more time. I’m going to be selfish and tell you that I love you, and I need you. With Lorraine… I proposed because she expected it. We didn’t even really get along that well. A month after I proposed…,” his head dropped, ashamed as he spoke his next words, “I said your name in bed.”

If you hadn’t already been frozen to your seat with shock, you’re sure you would’ve fallen over.

“I know it was unfair to her. I wish I’d never asked her to marry me. I should have come back for you, told you how much I loved you and how much I needed you. You’ve been so patient with me, I know you have. You’ve been nothing but amazing, even when I was a shitty friend to you. I wanted you to come to Quantico with me, and when you couldn’t, I thought… I thought that it was the universe telling me that it wouldn’t work. But fuck the universe. I am so sorry that I ever left you, squirt. I love you. And, if you’ll have me, I want to be with you. I want to marry you, if you’ll let me.” He kissed the backs of your hands.

You stayed frozen for a moment. You knew that none of this was easy for Javi. Admitting his true feelings, owning up to his mistakes, apologizing. He was coming to you, with his heart on his sleeve, and begging you not to turn him away. And how could you, if you were honest? You’d stayed in this state, in this town, in this diner, all for him. You told yourself it was just stability and familiarity that kept you there, but deep down you had always known that you were waiting for Javi. Staying put, right where he left you, just in case he ever decided to come back. And here he was, asking you to love him.

“Javi, I love you, too.”

You’d never seen Javier cry. The day he left, he came close. When his arms wrapped around you, you’d felt him shudder, just once. When you pulled back, his eyes stayed averted, and he didn’t look at you again. Except when he left, about to board his flight, and his eyes were just a tad shinier than usual.

Now, Javi allowed full tears to stream down his cheeks, as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him. He spoke no words, he just held you. He never truly thought that he would get to.

You slowly pulled back, reaching up to cup his cheeks and wipe away his tears. “I love you, Javi. And I… I’ll marry you, one day. Let’s see how this goes? I don’t want to spook you by us moving too fast, I can’t lose you.”

Javi shook his head frantically. “No, you’ll never lose me. I’m never leaving you again, I was a fool to have left for all these years.”

You wiped at his cheeks one more time, before leaning up to kiss him. And he kissed you back.

You supposed that, if you finally got to have him, then all of the pain you went through while he was gone was worth it. Your waiting hadn’t been for nothing, you finally had your Javi. He was holding you, right here, right now, in the same place he’d left you. Only, this time, he was here to stay. He was here with you.

[doc-pickles]

the storm & the wind

Brooke is running and Alex happens to meet her along her journey. Their brief encounter might just change everything for her.

hey hi hello I am DOUBLE POSTING for some god damn reason. (i updated treacherous on AO3 for the the first time in 20 years) this was in my drafts and I felt the sudden overwhelming need to finish it today. I love this piece more than I can say and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy so I hope y’all enjoy it.

also the title comes from this quote from Little Women: You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.

+

The snow crunching beneath her feet soaks into her worn Converse, a chilling reminder that she should’ve thought to grab something warmer. She makes a mental note to throw her now soaked socks over the heating vent later as she walks into the diner. It’s an old rundown place, but the gust of warm air that brushes over her face as she enters is a more than welcome feeling. Sitting at the counter she knows she should order something to eat but she can’t bring herself to ask for more than a cup of coffee when an aging waitress comes by and asks, her fingers greedily clutching the mug as she takes a sip.

“You’re not really dressed for the weather.”

The voice startles her, her grip around the cup tightening as she turns to her left. The owner of the voice can’t be much older than her, his chiseled jawline dotted with stubble and his dark hair cropped close to his head. He looks grumpy, an expression more at home on someone twice his age but the glint in his eyes keeps his youthful appearance.

“Your shoes are practically soaked through and you have a sweater on in 13-degree weather,” the stranger continues to share his thoughts, his comment prompting her to pull her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here Blondie.”

The observation reminds her that the thick braid hanging over her shoulder is a bright bleach blonde instead of her natural brunette coloring. She’d hastily dyed it in a rest stop somewhere in Ohio, desperate to wash away any traces of him that she could.

“I’m from New Jersey. Well… Kind of. I’m originally from Pennsylvania.”

The words slip from her mouth before she can second-guess them. Normally she would worry about giving any identifying information out, the fear of him being able to find her consuming her mind. But she knows now that she’s far from New Jersey and the life she left behind.

“You’re from the East Coast and you didn’t pack a winter coat?”

“I forgot… I was in a rush.”

That part isn’t a total lie, she had been in a rush when she left. She had shoved as much as she could into her suitcase while he had been working, not wanting to face his anger at her sudden departure. Now though she wishes she had put more thought into what she grabbed, she’d been freezing since she left.

“Here, you look like a wet dog shivering like that,” the man slips his thick red flannel off, holding the garment out to her with an expectant look. “Cmon, I don't have fleas or anything.”

She takes the proffered jacket, only because she’s shaking just as much as he says she is. The heavy material settles on her shoulders instantly warming her. The man looks at her for a moment before turning back to his coffee, speaking as he stares at the dark liquid, “If you're from Jersey what the hell are you doing out here? Middle of nowhere Iowa isn’t exactly a tourist destination.”

“I’m starting over, running away from… something. At least I think I am. I’m not quite sure,” she toys with the sleeves of his jacket, finally looking back up at him after a moment with an accusing tone. “Why do you care anyways? Are you just trying to make sure I don’t have any concerned family members that will come looking for me after you kidnap and murder me?”

There’s a momentary pause before a peel of laughter erupts from the man, a glint taking over his dark eyes as he speaks, “Jesus, you’re really paranoid or something, huh?”

“Or something,” the words are barely a whisper, but they’re loud enough for him to hear and stop his laughter. She looks up and meets his eyes, noticing how he looks her over as if trying to figure out exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m not trying to kill you, just trying to make conversation,” as if to prove his point he holds his hand out towards her. “I’m Alex.”

She hesitates only for a moment before settling her hand into his much larger one.

“I’m Brooke.”

+

The conversation seems easier after that, Alex talking about bringing his younger brother home after he had visited him in Seattle and Brooke talking about how she just finished her pre med degree at Princeton. They actually had a lot in common, an almost comforting feeling for her since Paul had isolated her from all her friends.

Paul.

She didn’t dare bring up her abusive husband or the horrors he had dragged her through. No, today she’s not poor defenseless Brooke Stadler whose husband can’t control his temper. Today she’s just Brooke, recent college grad who’s eating breakfast with Alex, the cute doctor with a charming smile.

“So why’d you say you’re starting over,” Alex finally broaches the subject as they both finish their meals. “I mean you just finished pre-med, that means you’re starting med school in the fall right? What are you running from? ”

Brooke shrugs, eyes falling to her now empty plate and she avoids Alex's piercing stare, “I’m supposed to start at Princeton med but now I’m not so sure. A lot has happened lately… It's complicated.”

Alex‘s hand reaches out for her arm, the move causing her to jump slightly. An embarrassed blush paints itself on her cheeks as Alex searches her eyes, almost as if he knows what she’s thinking about. He seems to brush the thought off quickly though as he continues to prod at her.

“Well… Did you get in anywhere else? It’s not too late to change your mind,” Alex shrugged as if sensing Brooke’s discomfort with the situation. “I was supposed to do my residency at the hospital down the street before I switched to Seattle at the last minute. Best thing I probably could’ve done for myself.”

“Well… I got into Harvard too. But I’m not sure,” there’s hesitation lacing her voice when she knows there shouldn’t be. Her mind is swirling, thinking about the fact that she could always go back to him. “I don’t know, I was thinking about going back home.”

Alex scoffs, the small noise causing Brooke to stare at him intensely, “You're not going back home, that’s a load of crap.”

“What makes you so sure about that? You don’t know anything about me.”

There’s a pause as Alex takes a sip of his coffee, a deliberate distraction as he attempts to string together the right words, “Well that black eye isn’t hidden as well as you think it is. And you jumped about a mile in the air when I first started talking to you. So I’m assuming you’re not running from something but someone. Did I get it right?”

Brooke’s fingers froze around her mug, eyes watering as she stared blankly at the dark liquid swirling inside. She pushes down the uncomfortable lump forming in her throat, trying to convince her nerves that Alex was just observant and not a threat.

“My husband… he has a temper,” eyes still focused on the coffee instead of Alex, Brooke found it marginally easier to talk about the real reason she was sitting in a diner in Iowa. “I just knew, the last time he… I just knew if he did it again he would kill me. So when he went to work I grabbed as much as I could and I got in my car and I drove. I don’t think I stopped for almost five hours, not really knowing where I was going. I just knew I had to keep going, that I couldn’t live like that any longer.”

The sounds of the diner around them are all Brooke can hear as her truth settles in the air, Alex taking in everything she’d ungraciously word vomited out. When he finally does speak again, there’s no tell tale tone of pity in his voice that she’d been anticipating.

“My dad was the same way, but my mom never had it in her to run. She was pretty messed up herself,” Brooke looks up at the stranger next to her as a small chuckle breaks through his serious tone. “She wouldn’t run so I had to raise my siblings, I had to make sure we all stayed alive. So I get it, why you’re running. And for what it’s worth, I think you should keep running.”

Swiping at the tears that had collected under her eyelashes Brooke thought about Alex’s words, “He's gonna find me, I know he will.”

“Screw him,” Alex scoffs, taking a swig of his coffee before continuing. “Go to Harvard, change your name, live your life. I promise you, you’ll regret it if you turn around and go back. You have a chance, a real chance, to change your life. Don’t let that slip away.”

There’s a beat of silence as Alex’s encouragement settles deep within Brooke’s chest. The man was a stranger in every sense of the word but somehow his whole hearted belief in her encouraged her to keep moving forward.

“Think of it this way, you get to start a brand new life, no strings attached,” Alex continues. “You can pick something cool! Something that means something. Like… One of those sisters from the book where their dad is away at war?”

“Little Women?”

“Yeah that one,” Brooke laughs at Alex’s statement, causing him to roll his eyes. “Oh shut up, my sister was obsessed with it and made me read it like a hundred times. But all those sisters were badasses, you could use one of those names. Like Amy or Beth. Well no she dies… How about Jo! You definitely look like a Jo to me.”

Brooke’s nose scrunches up at the names, causing both of them to laugh as Alex comes up with ridiculous suggestions. A flood of relief washes over Brooke as the two continue to talk. It had been a long time since she’d let her guard down around someone and just been herself.

A while later she excuses herself to the bathroom, a flash of disappointment striking her when she comes back to an empty seat. Her bill that had been sitting on the counter was paid, the receipt turned over and messy scrawl covering the back.

‘Keep running.’

-

So she does, Brooke keeps running and running and running and she doesn’t stop. In fact, when the running doesn’t feel like enough anymore she takes up actual running to calm her mind.

She runs every morning, at least two miles to clear her head and to keep herself sane. The days she misses her run are filled with overwhelming thoughts and anxiety that courses through her veins so quickly that it feels like a river crashing over her nervous system. She changes her name, cuts her hair, goes to Harvard and graduates top of her class. Every movement, every breath feels like she’s just moving towards the end of a never ending trail. But she keeps going, she keeps running because it’s all she can do.

When she gets accepted into Seattle Grace, one of the best hospitals in the country that puts thousands of miles between her and her past, it finally feels like a breath of fresh air, like relief is on the horizon. So she leaves Boston, leaves the east coast and everything familiar and finally feels like she might be able to stop running.

Seattle is different, it’s new and unexpected and perfect. It’s the first place where her name feels like it’s truly hers even though she’d lived with it now for almost seven years. Her first morning in her new apartment she goes for a run and finds herself looking over the Seattle harbor with a wide smile on her face. She’s a doctor now, something she’s worked towards her whole life it seems, but now it seems so real.

And then she gets put onto a Peds rotation and her heart seems to stop beating in her chest. Because her attending, Doctor Karev, is someone who’s appeared in her mind almost everyday since the first time she met him. His face, albeit a bit younger, is the one that appears when she thinks she can’t go on any longer.

“You mind?”

Alex’s voice brings her back from her daze, the same one that echoes her footfalls as she chases an adrenaline high every morning. She shakes her head in a futile attempt to clear it, “Sorry.”

“Why are you following me,” there’s an annoyed tone to his voice as she mimics his brisk pace down the hallway. She’d heard horror stories about him, about how rude and mean he was but she never would've guessed it was him.

“I'm your intern for the day.”

“Oh. Well, hello, intern,” Alex side eyes her, not really taking her in. “You have a name?”

“Jo. Jo Wilson,” it’s probably the fiftieth time she's said her name out loud since coming to Seattle but this time it feels different.

There’s a pause and Alex turns to take her in once more, as if he had missed something the first time he’d looked. She almost thinks he’ll say something, but he just shrugs and returns to tying his trauma gown, “Oh, nice. I like chicks with boys' names.”

The moment that she thought was there was gone and she stared at her shoelaces as Alex and Doctor Torres prattled on about something. She figures she should be grateful that he didn’t recognize her, that the seven years and the constant self improvement she’d put into herself had paid off. Still, her heart sunk as she realized that the man that had pushed her to keep running, to change her life, didn’t remember her.

-

Their story isn’t easy, in fact it’s one of the hardest things she’s ever been through. But there’s not a single ounce of hesitation or regret in her body when she wakes up every morning next to him. She’s always up before him, solely so she can get her run in before he wakes. By the time she comes back and showers, his eyes are sleepily staring up at her and his arms are reaching out for her like she’d been gone longer than a quick jog.

Alex is the person she’d needed, the one who pushed her to be better and made her feel like she didn’t need to change anything about herself. But the need to run, to keep running still hammered in her chest right under her heartbeat. She figured it would always sit there, the constant anxiety that her past might catch up with her if she stopped running.

When Paul shows up, all she wants is Alex. Before Seattle she would've run, would’ve been gone before anyone could blink to miss her. But now she wants nothing more than to curl up in Alex’s arms and never leave. She knows there’s more that needs to be done though, knows there’s more to the fight and that she needs to keep running this last little bit.

It’s not until she sees her ex husband laying in a hospital bed brain dead that Jo finally feels like she can breathe again, like she can stop fighting and just be. The breath of relief that washes over her as Alex runs his hand down her back feels like a thousand pound weight being lifted off her shoulders.

“I was pregnant.”

There’s a pause and she can feel Alex tense next to her, his hand on her back slowing as his eyes bore into her. She wishes she could stop but the words have been dying to slip out for the past six years that she’s been with him.

“The day we met, I was pregnant,” she turns to look at him, tears shining in her eyes. He doesn’t look shocked, not as shocked as he would’ve been if he didn’t know too. “I almost turned around and went back to him and raised a baby with him but I didn’t. The only reason I didn’t was because of this cocky asshole I met in a shitty diner who convinced me to start over. You’re the reason I kept running, the reason I didn’t go back. Whenever I doubted myself I heard your voice, the voice of a complete stranger mind you, in the back of my head telling me to keep running. You... you’re the reason I’m alive.”

Alex keeps his gaze on her for a minute, not daring to look away as they both realize that the other has known. Through the years of their relationship, since their second meeting in the very halls of this hospital they’ve both known exactly who the other is.

“You did all of that by yourself, you just needed a little push,” Alex brings her close again, his lips brushing against her forehead as she folds herself into his side. She’s crying full on now, her chest shaking as she finally lets herself stop running and lets the pent up emotions of the past few days wash over her. “I knew you could do it, I’m glad you did.”

Her tears don’t stop for a few days as she comes to terms with the fact that there’s no longer a need for her to run. In fact a few days later as she’s on her morning jog she stops and takes the deepest breath she feels she’s ever taken. As she leans on her knees she takes in the feeling of air freely flowing through her lungs, the exhilaration coursing through her body akin to what she thinks completing a marathon must feel like. Her eyes scan the Seattle harbor, taking in the sunrise as she breathes heavily and lets the day settle in around her. She'd run her race, she’d run it longer and faster and better than she’d thought she was capable of and finally, finally, she had finished.

[ahufflepuffranting]

The Mistakes of the Half-Blood Prince Movie

Disclaimer: These are my opinions not facts. I haven’t watched this movie in many moons so some scenes may be spotty/inaccurate. Also a lot of them are going to be derived from the book so if you haven’t read them, read the series, rewatch or watch the movies and then come back. Also major spoilers for this movie. You have been warned.

So…the HBP. I remember watching this movie in middle school/early high school. Now after a few years. I have a lot of thoughts on this movie and I felt that this would be a good first post. Enjoy!

1) Snape as the DADA Teacher. For those who read the books you know Snape has been eyeing the DADA (Defense Against the Dark Arts) teaching spot for years. We learn this in the first book and it’s mentioned in the first movie as well. But he is overlooked year after year after year. Now he finally has it. AND THERE’S NOT EVEN A MENTION IN THE MOVIE. In fact we barely see  him at all during the movie. Snape as the DADA is such a fascinating topic of the book and would’ve been amazing to see in the movie. Plus we would’ve gotten the iconic sassy Harry line “There’s no need to call me, SIr Professor”. 

2) Draco Malfoy. Now before I begin, let’s just say Tom Felton’s hair and wardrobe were at its peak during this film. Anyway, as readers and watchers all know, Draco is a death eater now and has been tasked with killing Dumbledore. In the book, we see these events through Harry’s perspective only which makes sense; it’s not Draco Malfoy and the Year He Tried to Kill Dumbledore. But a movie is an opportunity to expand and explore different characters and I wished they had done that for Draco a bit more. I would’ve loved to see the scene where is initiated and given the task by Voldemort. There were a few scenes but I wished to see the internal struggle that Draco was going through. Up until this point, we have always seen Draco as the opposite of Harry, the dark side and the enemy. But now with the Wizarding World at War, we begin to see a different side to Draco as he has a battle of doing what’s right and do what he is supposed to do. 

3) Remus and Tonks. This is another topic that is rarely touched on during this film. Remus and Tonks is such an interesting dynamic and its another topic that I wished was expanded upon. In the book towards the end, Harry finds out that Tonks was in love with Remus when he thought it was Sirius she was mourning over. After the Battle at the Astronomy Tower (more on that later) there is this wonderful, heart-tugging and romantic scene where Tonks is trying to convince Remus that they can be together. Remus tries to rebuff her.  

““You see!“ said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. "She still wants to marry him, even though he’s been bitten! She doesn’t care!”

“It’s different,” said Lupin, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense. “Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely-”

“But I don’t care either, I don’t care!” said Tonks, seizing the front of Lupin’s robes and shaking them. “I’ve told you a million times….”” 

And the meaning of Tonk’s Patronus and her mouse-colored hair, and the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumor someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear to Harry; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all.

“And I’ve told you a million times,” said Lupin, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, “that I am too old for you, too poor….too dangerous….” (Half-Blood Prince, pg. 623-624)

This highlights another aspect of Remus that is not easily shown in this movie, his ability to let others in. So afraid of being loved, Remus tries to shut out Tonks, thinking he is a monster, unworthy to be loved. But Tonks refuses to give up and tries to show him that she loves him for who he is, werewolf and all. This scene is iconic and to remove it from the movie is a crime. Also in the movie, they were already a couple…..??? #REMUS DESERVED BETTER #REMUS NEEDS A HUG

4) Ginny. I have many thoughts on Ginny. Bonnie Wright is an amazing actress so this is in no way bashing her.  Ginny in the book is sassy, assertive and loveable. She stands up for herself and others and doesn’t get pushed around by anyone. 

Movie Ginny on the other hand is kind of one dimensional and there was so much potential for her to grow. In the book, her relationship with Harry is an actual relationship. They spend time to together. It’s cute and it’s everything. The breakup scene is so sad but beautiful in its own way because it’s so like Harry to break up with her because he loves her so much. And that kiss scene in the book!!!! Oh my gosh do not even gte my wheels GOING! Like all Hinny shippers must have been like “FINALLY!!”

But in the movie, they just kiss in the ROR (Room of Requirement) and she just disappears and nothing happens after that. So they just never dated????? Like what????? A kiss doesn’t equate to a relationship, like ever. I realize now that Rowling was trying to create a normal atmosphere you’d get in any high school/teen universe because despite being in a middle a war, they’re still growing up and being teenagers with all thier angst. Harry pining for Ginny is a HUGE part of the HBP and its a huge part of that trying to be normal vibe (whatever that means in a middle of a war and you’re the Chosen One).

5) Battle at the Astronomy Tower. In the book, after Dumbeldore’s death, a battle erupts between the Death Eaters, who infiltrated the school with Draco’s help-and the students and the Order. I remember not appreciating when I first read this but now looking back, I wish I had. This event is considered a major battle and is the climax of this book. Everything has led up to this moment. AND THEY JUST TAKE IT OUT AND REPLACE IT WITH SOME MEDIOCRE ESCAPE SCENE. Bellatrix just blows out the windows of the Great Hall and sets Hagrid’s hut on fire but he’s NOT EVEN THERE! In the book, when she flamed up his hut, Hagrid was there and was PISSED because Fang was inside. DOn’t worry for all the dog lovers, Fang survives. It just seems so wrong to take it out. The scene that takes its place is bland in comparison and they should have just followed the book instead.

6) Fleur For those who didn’t read the book Fleur is engaged to Bill Weasley and the family…for the lack of a better word absolutely despises her. Behind her back they mock her and give her the oh-so-wonderful nickname Phlegm. Even though I don’t particularly care that it didn’t make it into the movie, there is one scene that I wished they kept that ties into my previous point. During the battle at the Astronomy Tower, Bill is mauled by Greyback and is scared for life. The scratches he sustained meant he would suffer but never fully transform. Molly despairs and assumes that Fleur would no longer want to marry him because of his marred face. But Fleur angrily berates her saying that Bill’s scars are proof of his bravery and she “was good-looking enough for both of them” (HBP, pg. 623). This scene is such a heartwarming scene after such a tragic event and I would’ve been more than happy if they included it.

 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THE WHOLE THING! I MIGHT DO ANOTHER RANT FOR OTHER HP MOVIES! PLEASE REBLOG AND ADD NOTES! 

[plumsaffron]

outdated slightly read ("**update…" below) It amuses me how people go out on a hate Wallflower Blush cult or some stupid crud. Here's a list of things I hear or seen of that I'm about to decimate: How she’s the worst. Bla bla She should be punished. She deserved to pay. She did this to herself. I hate her. She was so obvious of a villain/antagonist. Bla bla She got let out easy. She talks about this happening; Then also her, purposely causing it. Bla bla She hurt my girl Sunset Shimmer and threatened the humane 6. She ruined a lot of lives. she deserves jail, etc. etc. Acting like she did the worst compared to all previous and after villains/antagonist, of this EG series.

***update I split this long post into 3 parts but Now I found out why this post wouldn’t show up (note some things said here might be slightly updated in the newer version split into 3 parts but you could still read this one and the older one of earlier. Here’s newer:

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3)***

Interesting. If anything, Wallflower screwed and punished herself pretty much the whole time. It’s not as simple or brief as thought of.

Her scope of things in the present are pretty much fulfilled usually as like her past many times. Only around the end things actually start going well for her.

Now before I get full into this, look at these below or go to 1.

I’m lazy to make a long post of this again so refer to these https://plumsaffron.tumblr.com/post/661644086384705536/punish-wallflower-why-says-bank-bill

https://plumsaffron.tumblr.com/post/652365671374667776/you-choose-to-be-invisible-and-brought-this-upon

So About Wallflower story more:

1. Did you know she was trying to get Sunset’s attention while Shimmer sings We’ve Come So Far for like half the song? (Ironic considering how Sunset does the opposite during the Invisible song later on).

Lets see,

2. Apparently Sunset doesn’t remember her from the nineth grade, despite being part of the year book committee for the entire year while Sunset is the president of that. So after she gives the votes thing, she gets completely ignored and forgotten. Guess Sunset had bad ears too and turns the lights off after Wallflower says she’ll just finish up (no it wasn’t quiet).

So now Wallflower decides she’ll make her pay for the disrespect and ignoring of something that shouldn’t be easily forgotten that you collided with earlier.

3. As people, more or less know, she erases everyones memories of Sunsets good (basically making everyone in the school think she’s bad like from when she was the antagonist from going to the the human world and towards the end of the first movie).

So everyone hates/fears/distrusts her and former crystal prep Twilight goes with the crowd instead of trying to give Sunset a chance (you can see she’s questioning her actions but she was persuaded unfortunately but that also was because Sunset slipped and accidentally broke her drone. It’s understandable for the time being).

(Not relevant (skip if you wish) really but not sure if they 6 should have kept going since Sunset isn’t actually invoking reasons to prove she is being who she once was consistently as the remembered at the time. Then again they’re not the types to seek the truth like pony human twilight as the first movie shows and Sunsetafter nowadays normally.

4. Anyways.

So Trixie and Sunset try to find out who did it. And Twilight of the pony world warns them that her time to stop the memory stone is limited and peoples memories could be full erased (idk when it completely sets or night probably of the 3rd/last day).

So Wallflower is just there again the whole time when they were trying to find out who holds the stone after talking to everyone checked on the yearbook. So they finally notice the one without an image. Trixie wondering who is this Wallflower Blush. Wallflower *with her given up already and slightly annoyed tone* tells them she’s right here you know. Then explains to Trixie, after she asks who she is, that she has known her since the 3rd grade. Then Trixie’s air-headed self says I remember that grade; Not you specially (lol).

5. So Sunset asks Wallflower where that picture location is (cause rock formation of the stone). Wallflower tells happily to despairingly based upon how’s she’s the founder and only member of the gardening club. Trixie assumes she’s not into other people (probably meant she’s not good at bringing more members to groups but that’s not how Wallflower would interpret it).

Wallflower asks if this could be part of the yearbook (interesting this is the second time she’s not gloomy but swell i suppose). Sunset approves while Trixie mad cause she didn’t get what she wanted (really it was a ploy to distract wallflower so she can see her memories). so she sees her memories (skims through most likely) and finds out shes the eraser. So Wallflower is basically ignored for instances and finds a memory stone. *So jumps to the scene to before Sunset turns the lights off on her*, where Trixie interrupting and upset while everyone straight up forgets she’s here. Twilight tells Sunset her former villain meaning times no longer need memories of that old book (or it the new yearbook) since well Sunset is a good girl now or redeemed. Wallflower looking at the old book in that same lights out room and going back to the garden to get the stone again.

Now what triggered Wallflower? Think about or go back to "1:" but I will tell you anyways if you don’t know.

*If you know skip this section to 6.*

Sunset’s traits or treatment is decent with all and they treat her well nowadays. However, thanks to Sunset’s treatment towards her at that time, Twilight informing her that her evil ways of the past are over (That Sunset doesn’t want to remember which is understandable (Trixie technically started that situation by bringing that past of Shimmer which probably also influenced Wallflower too cause Trixie being petty that she didn't get what she wanted of a special picture), and then getting ignored by everyone and Sunset along with being isolated with that old book,triggered this usage.

Sunset’s actions and everyone’s forgetfulness or letting go of the past, while being forgettable of her value or being of here and now, made her do that. She’s jealous and her old bad memories of Sunset reawakened that all else decided to eventually forget or let go of.

Imagine a malicious person (I’ll talk about that later and I blame Princess Celestia for being a boneheaded fool) since the 9th grade or before whenever she entered the human world and screwed the school is now voted as best friends with 6 other heroes and now everyone appreciates her vs. you do didn’t ruin friendships or lifestyles but straight up is still ignored by everyone, somehow since probably 3rd grade and the one person that’s portrayed as a changed person, is perceived as fake to you, due to their recent actions while interacting with you. Everyone else appears fake too or Sunset promoters.

6. Sunset rhetorically asks You erased everyone's memories (not sure of Trixie's though)? Wallflower seems to want to not speak but her face starts suddenly become twisted in a form of rage and responds YES *angrily*. Ah Sunset’s expression & angry eyes was great. (She wanted the smoke lol)

Then Trixie says wait, who are you again (Oh dear Trixie noooooh 😂😂😂😂😂)?

*Wallflower got that Appalled WHAT WTF expression (*I was just talking to you! You were talking and listening to me and Sunset here of now and earlier*)*

So she sadly looks at that picture of Sunset and her friends being happy. Then sings about her story ("Invisible").

7. unfortunately the two didn't hear here out. Sunset decided to completely ignore (irony I mentioned within 1.) and go through her bags to try to get the rock. So Wallflower sees, once again, her falseness by observation. This obviously reinforces how Wallflower sees Shimmer (even though Sunset time is to restore was scarce but not scarce as you think until...).

*rant below of why what Sunset was pretty messed up. Skip to 8. if you want*

The fact that you weighed your friends memories over a person who tried to tell you why and tried to get your attention earlier and tries to make you understand when sings of how perceives herself is "Invisible", like nonexistent, lonely and ignored, laundry list of nothingness not likely to succeed for her picture description, will never find friends, believing her yearbook will be blank pages than none will want to sign, a droplet in the mist, and a permanent forgotten memory or existence. Just ain’t a good look. (oh and btw if she listened longer she’d realized Maybe Wallflower is serious (cause the full song that seemed purposely cut, not for censorship, because Sunset actions made her stop from continuing. "A star fading at dawn… It won’t be long before I’m gone." So you could take this as what was on Wallflower Blush’s things to say before learning she got treated as her song at the scene). What am I infering is Sunset proved to her that she doesn’t care of what she was trying to tell her in general and the possibility of fading and being gone. which reinforces the obvious thoughts of Wallflower’s scope.)

8. so after Wallflower takes her bag back from Sunset, Sunset asks in frustration what did she do to her and she doesn’t even know her.

Unfortunately, Sunset Shimmer in a way, answered her own question. Go skip this to 9. if you are aware. If you aren’t aware yet, it’s like the story of when a person strikes back or antagonizes a character because of an unresolved problem the antagonized person caused, so the person of the past or past comes to haunt them (this is seen after the first movie, which Sunset is doing to dissolve or thought she completely dissolved until Forgotten Friendship. perhaps it is not as noticeable, despite being talked of at times in earlier movies or specials, unless you re-watch the stuff after the first movie.

It could be the assumption that if everyone else learned to let go, why won’t she let go (Although Trixie proves that people could let go but could purposely shove old crap back at you if you don’t meet their desires which could imply everyone is cool with Sunset (besides twilight’s main friends and Starlight Glimmer) until she slips up even if Sunset isn’t in the wrong.)))? Not all are static types though. I also talk about the past haunting characters in other series (Ace Attorney, Sonic Adventure and 2, Sonic 2006, Shadow The Hedgehog)

9. So Sunset’s reaction according to Wallflower convinces her that she’s still the biggest meanie! And everyone else is fooled (and that’s putting it nicely. Wallflower could have called her a "BLOWHARD" rofl (long time ago, I thought Trixie Lulamoon called Wallflower a nobody and Wallflower called Sunset a blowhard way after Sunset calling Trixie a manipulative blowhard earlier, but it was an uncut version removed in the final version. Sucks that it was me imagining things)).

Of course Sunset is so about to set and light the mean on her now but Trixie intervenes in order to stop the situation by informing her not to mess with the user who has a powerful rock. Unfortunately, Wallflower’s mind has been set after being proven right again, filled with Shimmer’s most recent action of threatening her. She doesn't want to deal with the confrontation anymore so she erases both of their memories of that event.

10. Sunset Shimmer and Trixie Lulamoon are just there and noticed the door was locked (seems that erasure freezes people temporarily too). So now the two try to find out what do two cause she’s running out of time but thanks to Sunset’s backup plan (twilight’s drone she used in case Wallflower decided to erase their memories) she has a chance.

They listened again but skimmed sadly cause Trixie and Sunset thought her song was long ironically. They view the part I explained earlier where Wallflower discovers Sunset isn’t listening til Sunset is ready to show how mean she could get. Trixie's listening could see there was a problem with Sunset in the situation (unlike most people who watch or talk lowly of Wallflower Blush or hate on her at least due to either not grasping or wanting to understand or something else) or rather Wallflower was kinda of right. That Sunset wasn’t doing any favors to contradict. Sunset couldn’t see the problem but Trixie suggests that sometimes the way she reacts in certain situations isn’t going to cut it. Sometimes Sunset may have to be a bit nicer, even if Sunset believes she wasn’t being mean (I suppose this is the first time Sunset really experience a situation where she has to approach it different from usual. Likely because everyone else had never went against her like Wallflower did or lasted as long. And by that I mean Sunset’s journey of fixing her messes or Sunset doesn’t remember any like Wallflower doing that).

*She thought about it and looks sad while looking at that upset frame of Wallflower.* She finally starting to understand why this happened and she sees that Trixie’s right but it doesn't matter since their locked and time is running out for the memory loss permanent. which in Sunset’s mind means she’ll lose her main friends forever. But she requests (*flatters*) Trixie to use her magic to escape. Luckily it worked (well half way since Trixie still is in the room for now). Sunset appreciates Trixie’s help and won’t forget it.

11. So we’re near the end.

As Wallflower *walking alone away*, the humane six just there in the middle and Flash’s car (probably just there briefly since Sunset running and calling Wallflowerand he’s like huh?) Twilight and Rainbow just annoyed looking at her. when she’s near and walking trying not to see them cause well she knows but she’s looks anyways briefly. Angel and Fluttershy also pissed, the rest are just puzzled. Sunsets says Wallflower Stop!

Wallflower *hears and questioningly says* you remember my name?

Sunset informs she remembers it all (well what she skimmed of earlier and Trixie’s advice). Her ways, her actions towards her and the memory stone.

*She responds* What! How!? I erased the whole afternoon! (*Wallflower then goes into this oops embarrassed mode after the realizing the rest heard what she said too* (The 6 were like What The but Angel is straight smiling for some reason. It amused me much)

12. Sunset tries to convince Wallflower she was just like her even if she was popular (well she still is regardless of in general and before) but she was lonely (I’m not sure about that, Sunset. You always had others for you regardless of alignment. Especially the original 6 (before crystal prep Twilight Sparkle sort of wrote pony world twilight out of the Equestria Girls story that Sunset caused problems within the first) and current Equestria Girls 6 were always there for you when need be.

If you're talking about that brief moment before Princess Twilight and friends gave you a hand, eh. If you mean brief Rainbow Rocks moments or your songs of My Past Is Not Today or We've Come So Far, again, your friends present for and are cool with you. If you’re talking about when Wallflower erased the good memories of you the students or people of the school had, you were only briefly lonely and besides Trixie accompanied you on your quest. In the end your loneliness would be how M. Bison would say "…it was Tuesday." in Wallflower’s case).

I mean her former henchmen/servants (Snips and Snails) from the first movie were a thing ((Interesting maybe Sunset and pony counterpart Trixie are partially similar, considering she had the same pony world henchmen or servants versions). It could be that this is her feelings since all of the evil within her was expelled,so Sunset feels loneliness. But it's quite different or short lived. But hey that’s how she feels.

Wallflower responses she’s nothing like her while also denying her own loneliness because she has uh PLANTS! (Oh the irony of things sounding better in her head. Either way, it proves her loneliness is greater and long lives and the part where sunset skimmed through her memories and song reinforces Sunset doesn’t really know it as she says).

13. Sunset tries to apologize again for what happened to her. The thing is...Wallflower is too far gone for apologies or anything Sunset says or does to try to fix things, based on earlier events with her. Wallflower doesn’t believe Sunset’s sincerity is convinced strangely enough that she’s trying to look good in front her friends (despite her friends not thinking she’s really their friend) and it’s working (It’s probably because Wallflower is lashing out on Sunset and they have no clue who this girl is that shares similar thoughts but it makes me wonder why they didn’t gang up like before to stand against Sunset?).

Wallflower is so annoyed, frustrated, mad, angry, etc. She wants to get back at her but it seems nothing she does matters in order to make her know what it really feels like to be Wallflower. She Yells "I HATE YOU!" Then realizes and covers her mouth but everyone else *gasps* or is feeling a shred at least of fear.

(apparently that’s worse than calling a person a MANIPULATIVE BLOWHARD but whatever. I suppose she didn’t truly mean to say that but she’s just severely pissed off)

So now Wallflower tells them she wanted to teach her a lesson by erasing her friends good memories of Sunset but that didn’t work. So as a final lesson to teach Sunset, she ponders, what if she erases all of her friends memories of high school (her smile showing She’s full in for making Sunset suffer. Would this be kinda similar of like when Sunset was going to unveil how mean she can get towards Wallflower?)?

14. Sunset pleads to Wallflower she can’t because that would steal their memories of each other.

Wallflower *as she walks* They'll think of each other the way you think of me! Which is not at all! *and fires it at the humane 6*

So before I continue, the last thing she said seems pretty interesting. Perhaps in a way, she’s also saying they will be like how Sunset has been or did to her and how everyone has been or did to her. Now you’ll really know the definition of what I tried to tell or sing to you earlier. To turn her friends into how she remembers Sunset. So six Sunsets Wallflower themselves (and this Sunset Shimmer perhaps) If you get where I'm going from.

Sunset shouts *crying while attempting to protect them from the attack* Noooooo!

*Sunset hit by it* (It’s strange because the last instance of memory losses seen jumps to the next scene, leaving Trixie and Sunset locked in the room and they were just standing their the whole time. And the previous times it’s instant. It’s seems like an inconsistently for real-time instant memory loss to memory loss by the people are still standing frozen for awhile for some reason to this form when sunset blocks and falls down but it’s not instant erase real-time. Maybe it was for emphasis purposes or how much erasure desired but that still will show an inconsistently for this following part below).

15. Sunset tells them all she would rather give up her own memories instead of letting what did to them at an earlier time occur again. She’s showing to them that she’s really not how she used to be from long ago. All of her memories of her friends are leaving as they 6 all watch terrified, unable to do anything. Hearing their names, Sunset Screams and Tries to Resist losing but isn’t able to as they rip from head. And them seeings her memories of them too. The last thing she asks is for Twilight not to forget her (she is referring to both Twilights too).

As she falls brief again, she gets back up, but in a stance like on all 4s. Questioning and knowing this area is not Canterlot, where is she, (since she doesn’t remember where she is) and shouts Princess Celestia *in confusion*. Everyone is shocked, even Wallflower is freaked out or is starting to think maybe she went too far (It’s also interesting that Wallflower basically freezes and doesn’t try to fire the rock again).Sunset Asks what happens to her (since she doesn’t remember her human form)and cries for somepony to help her.

So before I continue I’m gonna put these 3 things out there below

one: Many people who watched or viewed Forgotten Friendship, believe or think Wallflower erased Sunset’s memories of all of high-school, to the point at which she remember still being Princess Celestia’s student in Canterlot. If that’s true then so be it.

two: However, there’s one problem with that. Sunset would still hated or distrust Celestia (I’ll talk about this below after I’m done describing forgotten friendship events) because that’s her last state before running away to the human world. If anything she’d hate or would try to manipulate anyone around or antagonize the or literally probably would show everyone what her mean-self really is. And probably attack Wallflower because she seems to have a powerful item or would prove completely that Wallflower and possibly everyone’s except the 6’s perspective of Sunset is true.

three: there’s only one way this makes possible sense although what I say here may or might be contradictory. Go back to 3. (not this worded three:). I should have included this somewhere earlier but whatever. It’s actually a good thing that Sunset in an earlier time of this special or movie, went back to the pony world and decided to make amends with Celestia and learn about the stone before going to the human world again. Remember it’s not always absolute memory loss, it can be fragments (like lets say Sunset helped Twilight to get her to accept her power to defeat Gloriosa. Since Wallflower earlier, erased the good memories of Sunset, Twilight will remember defeating her but not Sunset helping her or being present. This pretty much what was seen earlier when Sunset saw her friends memories no longer having her their).

What am I saying? Well Wallflower may have erased Sunset’s memories of high school but possibly won’t erase her recent Canterlot memories (So she may still remember pony world counterparts from previous movies and this one. Pony world Princess Twilight could be a possible exception because Sunset might consider the two Twilight two sides of the same coin where as The Celestias would be considered too distinct). In other words, she should remember parts of her recent memories of this movie would be likely Making Amends learning the memory stone and going through mirror in and out. However, Sunset will not know why she’s doing this because all memories of the human world are pretty much removed. A giant gap of missing memories would definitely confused the heck out of her.

Now then

16. Twilight, Apple Jack, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, all understand, respect and stand for or with Sunset, for her sacrifice (Even if they don’t remember). They see they were all wrong about her and are willing to stop Wallflower (As in make sure she doesn’t try it again) while calling Sunset their friend. So they and Sunset transform. Twilight sayings crap of what Wallflower holds what she don’t understand (I think Wallflower does understand but ironic considering Friendship Games). Pinkie shuts Twilight’s rambling speech up (good job) and tells the ladies to Light Her Up, and they charge and fire some friendship beam that destroyed the memory stone Wallflower held. And so all their memories return.

They all have a moment of relief or happiness that everything is back. So yeah they apologize for how they were to Sunset but it’s fine she’s glad to have them all back. (So I wish Sunset though realized or told them all and Wallflower somewhere before her memories of high-school were lost to after regaining all of her memories would be "Even if their memories are lost forever, I can still work and make new ones. I’ll do what I always do. Even if no one believes me and everyone’s against me." IDK it could have been really useful for her and Wallflower to learn of.)

17. Sunset then looks at Wallflower *with a sad face*, just sitting there alone, and walks towards her. Wallflower then notices and is like *Crap sigh I guess I owe her an answer with an apology while hating what I've done & the path I chose. There is no other choice. My hatred is gone for all but myself. Even I realize now she didn’t deserve to feel this pain I’ve felt.*

She explains the contents of what she did when she first found the memory stone (Sunset would have knew this if she didnt skim through her memories). So pretty much erased little things of what she says or does from people/individuals. *She puts her head down in shame*

Twilight of the human world tries to cheer her up and inform that there’s plenty of awkward moments she wishes she could erase of herself as well (ah probably the most sucky Crystal Prep memories before and during the Friendship Games). Wallflower replies it’s no excuse for what she did and tells them she was so used to doing it that she got completely carried away. Wallflower apologizes to them for everything.

Sunset says it’s okay and apologizes too. She tells Wallflower She may have stopped being mean but a great and powerful friend told her she wasn’t being actually well to her either. (So what’s this mean? maybe that you don’t have to be mean by simply being obviously mean. It can be of subtle. Heck you can even be mean by being nice. Action dependency possibly. Could be simply not mean but a Jerk. It’s really something of be careful how you are towards people. Not everyone will let go of things easily cause exceptions exist. In Sunset case it’s based upon the past and other factors I talked of earlier that influenced Wallflower’s resentment initially.)

Sunset tells Wallflower that everyone matters, even if you feel like you aren’t significant or visible.

So Sunset gives her hand to her (it’s a thing Pony World Twilight that used to go to the human world, did for her. It’s a precious sign of change giving friendship or one can change perhaps, Sunset holds dearly too.) So Wallflower Blush blushes and decides to fully trust her, takes her hand and they hug. So Wallflower is at peace with things. A new path for Wallflower is unlocked. Another good thing is this new situation could help Sunset learn how to deal with situations similar to this one or other different ones in the future.

18. Sunset later on writes to Princess Twilight (The one who used to travel to the human world) how everything is peace nowadays. Tells Twilight thanks to give her best to Princess Luna and her second best teacher Celestia (she wants to make sure Twilight knows she’s trolling Celestia). Trixie is her new friend. Trixie got what she wanted in year book. Wallflower is friend. She now found a couple of new friends/garden members and a page with a picture of her with signatures signed by Sunset and her main friends. So yeah she’s happy. Too bad Sunset’s picture with her best friends has Bulk Bicepts kissing his muscles on the right side of the page. Rainbow Dash cringes (lol). And that’s pretty much it.

Now to sunder the rest of those foolish generalizations and nonsensical slander or rage.

*Worst villain?*

Hmmm what do you mean you mean? Bad villain? her motive and reason? Idk it’s pretty clear to me why and makes sense. maybe its because she’s not actually a villain as you expect but more of an antagonist. And the route always went to antagonist somewhere after rainbow rocks or friendship games. Bad antagonist? Is it because you’re looking for something like Vignette Valencia, Gloriosa Daisy or Juniper Montage? Is it because Wallflower is the remaining one with a grudge and reason while everyone else now forgets and forgives (besides Trixie but that’s cause she wanted something out of Sunset at the time and she’s kinda like that normally at times, even her pony counterpart does similar)?

Did you skim her past and story again like initially referred to for generalization types or vote or bandwagon for weak context comments? Doesn’t she make Sunset suffer and later full on wanting her to suffer due to her lacking times of understanding her? That impact essentially would surpass or be on par with the old Sunset or Sirens actions of discourse but hey it could be you’re bored or not entertained or don’t feel Wallflower’s ways. But I’m just putting that out there because that’s what a villain/antagonist might do and some antagonists > villains. Keep in mind the things that happened to Wallflower happened before finding the stone and is implied to be since she was a little kid.

*complains about people forgetting her and being invisible. also wallflower, erasing those memories. It’s basically you went on a path hurting yourself and getting mad at this occurrence and expecting people to remember*

Remember Wallflower’s memories again. It shows all (well a skimmed version) of what happened before her finding the stone and what she said to Trixie and Sunset earlier and after implies how all of this crap she’s been going through happened for such a long time and none are actually are there for her to grant a new perspective to her (and it seems she doesn’t know the ability to leave an area like that if she can who knows). We also see it in the song too.

Stop using the stone as an excuse. yes, it may have amplified it further and her getting carried away but that doesn’t override what’s true of before. It likely wouldn’t make a real difference. And I highly doubt she’d erase herself or people’s memories of her from all instances (let alone Sunset). That’s too complicated and as you know, it’s not absolute as I explained earlier of how certain exceptions may exist due to what individuals may consider what the memory is to them. And even then new memories would form so she should kind of be known.

Think about her name. should be power or be known anyways. Why? Well it’s the first memory one should likely know of. And the second would be appearance. Where you might not remember the name but you’d remember the appearance. Those two ways of identifying who the person is. Now I’m not saying all should but it appears the awareness remembering of her or knowing her and existence yade yada is somehow of o% for all and wouldn’t even grow to at least a few but default.

Maybe Wallflower’s expectations are too high for what’s obvious to know of or should know of, which can piss her off when it’s not reciprocated. You add that with her past, followed by a reinforcement, followed by a jerk who acts like you don’t exist that all else like nowadays who affected you and all else earlier on etc. and so here we are with Wallflower‘s disgust or contempt. And of course explaining why she is the way she is and being disrespected and ignored while informing later on.

*Wallflower Hurt and Threatened Everyone and tortured Sunset. The Power She possessed is evil. The possibilities what she holds are pure dangerous why we hate her I CAN’T BELIEVE SHE GOT AWAY SCOT FREE*

uhhh wouldn’t that make her legit not the worst villain/antagonist? Yes what she possessed is not good but isn’t that the trait that pretty much every antagonist/villain does in this Equestria Girls Series to have something similar? Anyways, no it didn’t and like I explained and Wallflower earlier, no one remembers knows or cares of Wallflower and it’s clearly shown, told, and proven until near the very end of forgotten friendship. They can’t get mad over who they don’t know or care to know that exists.

Not only that, I explained, and she, herself, explained how in the end it was really affecting herself. The only other that was affected would be Sunset (but it’s not as deep as you think and didn’t last long) and the human 6 counterparts that saw they made a grave mistake of giving her no chance. oh and guess what, they all apologized and forgave each other.

She got away with it, y’all whine.

Soooooo. And what’s with you weirdos wanting certain characters that go through consistent crap to go to jail because they didn’t react the way your former villains/antagonists or currents heroes of before and now when dealing with things because you don’t like them? (And in this case Wallflower ironically would be in good standing compared to previous and after but I’ll talk about this somewhere below.) It’s also hypocritical because that obsessed logic would mean Sunset would have to go too and everyone else and even the main character princess and her first teacher done something similar in the pony world in the past. No one went after the Dazzlings.

This favoritism haterism is pathetic (it reminds me of other characters I defend(ed), who get grossly hated guts on). Do you even know how bad jail is? Couldn’t say get help or therapy or some to tell her that maybe if the same thing keeps happening, she should go somewhere else if she can. But nah, just straight to say jail, some say or agree. Imagine sending a person broken to somewhere that’s worse and could make them worse or never the same when they don’t deserve that?

*She did the worst is the worst and ruined a lot of lives. She so obvious to be the culprit*

You must be fooling yourselves as I explained all of earlier. It was short lived btw. And everything went back to normal but even better. And So What if she was so obvious. The point was for them to find who it was, not you who already has the awareness. And remember 3 previous movies or a couple of specials had pretty obvious ones too.

Now to destroy the she’s the worst or did the worst.

It’s really easy to sunder this blind belief.

the first reason why she it’s not true simply because Sunset and The Dazzlings of previous.

Sunset Shimmer is number 1. Why? Well you can watch the first movie yourself (It’s likely still on youtube or elsewhere) and it’s somewhat much Princess Celestia’s fault but we’re only told on things from the one who did not go after her when she had the time or at least send a person to go before twilight became a princess.

Remember, this is the same one who previously sealed her sister in the moon (and clearly Nightmare Moon didn’t harm any of their subjects and we see the memory of why when twilight drinks that thing cause harmony tree acting weird episode)for a very long time like uh 1000 years or something and didn’t even try to find out why this happened why her sister was like this. She seems to not know how to confront things without closing away, no second chance, leaving behind or punishing without thinking who defies what she thinks they should do, until Twilight and her main friends became her problem solvers.

Unless that idw Sunset backstory is considered canon, we can only go with Celestia’s words of why Sunset fled based on not getting what she wished for and Sunset’s explanations in her many sagas that I'm too lazy to review atm (it's probably identical though or implicative).

That’s pretty malicious to do to your own sister and then you replace her identity basically but not dream help part which probably caused some problems or crazy nightmares and supernatural phenomenon crap without Luna. Ironically Celestia did everything Luna was mad for at a higher level.

Okay, continuing with Sunset Shimmer.

You really can easily say that she’s done the most and caused the most impact out of everyone. There’s no need to really explain how deep it is here. lets just cut to the chase. Even before becoming some type of demon (yes she was showing sign of regret before it took control of her while transforming but that doesn’t matter really since it was still mostly all of her) she tried to destroy Twilight's portal to back home and her henchmen threatened her talking dog pet (spike the dragon in her world) as a last resort to get that crown for power.

Then while a demon, she destroyed a piece of the school turned everyone into a zombie army for her quest to conquer Equestria world and then she actually tried to destroy Twilight and her human counterpart friends. Even before all of that near the end of the movie, she was doing all kinds of menacing things to Twilight, even breaking her human counterpart friendship (although it was partially their own faults for not trying to find the truth) and about everyone else in the school since Sunset first went to the human world).

Her affect lingered and this predicament is what brought the Dazzlings to town for the next movie to pretty much cause and do the same thing Sunset previously did. And during that movie people and her friends generally would well, mark her past against her intentionally or unintentionally. Even the principal sisters if I remember. And Sunset had to live with the shame, learn and grow from the experience.

She saves everyone from Dazzlings so they slowly respect her or won’t mark her like earlier. Then she and about everyone from Cantelot High And Crystal Prep helps save people Twilight Sparkle from her Midnight Sparkle State so yeah. Her past is being let go but more an more (Even if she mentions the moment herself in Mirror Pass).

As the stories went on, her past she doesn’t like is close to being unmentioned by all. She’s being treated well by all normally. but as you know you know after Legend Of Ever Free, it’s not over. Trixie was being a conceited brat and everyone else, minus Wallflower, try to get her to look past old memories.

Now where I’m going with this is that not everyone is gonna forgive Sunset of what she did in the past just for saving them or being with saviors or heroes. Unfortunately it could be remembered if you give enough reason or cause enough reason. It may take a varying time duration. But after that movie it’s pretty much easy to say she may have an almost 0% chance to be called out by her past. Just explaining the Sunset Shimmer impact is legit greater than every Equestria Girls Villain and Antagonist.

2. Dazzlings for obvious reasons they’d be number 1 if Sunset wasn’t a thing. Like I said it‘s mostly a Sunset Movie 1 copy paste modify. https://plumsaffron.tumblr.com/post/671678293843509248/rainbow-rocks-is-just-the-first-equestria-girls

3. These were to difficult to rank so They will all be in the same tier:

Midnight sparkle and Crystal Prep Academy vs. Vignette Valencia vs. Postcrush

You know what? Twilight is the false villain/antagonist.

The real antagonists/villains were Principal Cinch and The Shadowbolts.

You got a girl who got guilt tripped and peer pressured by like the entire crystal prep body (minus Cadence and Shining Armor) to use the magic for the sake of winning a game, which resulted in her becoming mad with knowledge and power who can rip the dimensions between pony world and the current world. Causing certain individuals to almost fall through while some ponies witness this chaos. And then Principal Cinch turns her back on her and everyone and leaves the server lol.

And this leads to another point. Since certain people had that wanted the Wallflower get jailed sentiment, what do you say for this? would you pick Twilight to go for giving in or the shadowbolts and principal cinch For causing possible destruction of 2 universes. This weird jailing desire went stale once Cinch got away with for like this 3rd movie. It's time to move on. Oh And This Twilight was traumatized of herself til near the end of the Everfree movie.

Now then vs. Vignette Valencia who’s a star with too high demands, made her designer quit. She tries to get Sunset and Sunset’s friends be her ideal versions of them in the parade. And when they didn’t abide to get standards, she used her phone to digitize them if she could to some area elsewhere. I think she also did this to strangers too. Apparently it’s a real place they get transported to from digitization. So later on, she was being booed, so she was about to digitize the crowd. The 7 stopped her. I’m not sure if she was told or believed this but she could have well well… *What happens if you put more ice inside a closed bottle than can be contained?* And yes the people heard what Apple Jack told them of danger she possessed with that phone. (I think likely she only consider Rarity and friends as the closest things of friends to her but still....)

vs. Postcrush

So in a nutshell, Sunset is hit by this band force after being kicked out and the next day it’s the same. Each day no matter what she tries, it loops to that same day again. She’s the only one aware. So sometime later she suspects the Dazzlings did it. Then takes her frustrations out on Pinkie Pie (she was distracted by food or something when she’s supposed to keep guard) bit after learning they had nothing to do with what’s going on this time. So Adagio gives Sunset a word of advice that if the day still loops, maybe she’s the reason it is looping. So Sunset decides to be a better friend of Pinkie this next loop day.

They end up finding out, thanks to Sunset’s memory accessing magic ability, that Supernova Zap and Kiwi Lollipop are the one’s causing the loop. And the reason is because K-Lo and Su-Z want their attempt to be perfect due to problems happening per performance. Sunset tries to tell them it’s not possible for them to meet the criteria of pure perfection. But you know they didn’t care what she said (even though they now know that Sunset Shimmer is being personally affected by it. This isn’t like I want revenge or I don’t forgive the past. It’s just I’m we’re using the Time Twirl device and no one will stop me us.).

Oh yeah they decided to kick them out and planned on ban looping them (they know and remember well who, what they are and look like and can decently draw who them. So if this this day didn’t go ideal as desired or as wanted, there is basically no more chances to stop the loop if they loop again). Oh and by the way this time loop occurred for THREE WEEKS! Luckily Sunset and Pinkie foiled their plan and showed them what True Original really means.

4. Juniper Montage.

So umm briefly um starting with the Movie Magic special. Sunset and friends trick and expose who’s been stealing or damaging the approved Daring Doo props and stuff that could have harmed people of the set. She explains cause I guess Chestnut is really annoying and eating all the things she likes (weird she wasn’t present but Chestnut felt the same but she didn’t know Pinkie ate what she liked earlier too).That’s not the real reason. The real reason is her ambition to want to be daring do but her uncle (the director of the set I think) but he ignored her.

I’m not sure if he’s not denying that he did ignore her but the reason is because she’s too short to play her and is without experience. She thought that if she did all this maybe he’d change his mind (and by the way his contract with Chestnut Manifico was waning at the time (Idk. If that's happening, maybe you should have gave her a chance as a backup plan since you know how she is before all of this). Anyways he kicks her out of the set. The last thing they all see is a sign of this isn’t over. Then by a miracle, Chestnut’s contract was extended and everything went as planned without her.

Sometime later on, Juniper is given a job as an usher in Mirror Magic. The first thing she sees is those girls who got her kicked from the set singing everywhere on video and with those crystal prep girls from a previous special I think.

And if things weren’t worse enough, she finds out those same girls were part of the daring doo casting set (had roles in the movie). I don’t think people realize how spiteful that would appear to be against her. I kinda dislike now her uncle for that (Alone) and were they experienced or to young too (well besides Rainbow Dash cause she’d be perfect to play Daring Doo probably but they probably are but like in the end, it was Juniper Montage's fault for her foolishness that caused property damage and potential cast endangerment. So he granted what she deserved)?

Anyways she don’t give a crap about her new job. So she has a mirror how that makes popcorn disappear but currently it no longer works as intended.

And so it got worse. The ones who put her where she is now, are in this same area. So they, besides Sunset, learn that she wasn’t invited to that premiere (that was probably a good thing then again she’d feel humiliated either way). Then Rainbow Dash provokes Juniper about what she shouldn't have done, which caused her to lash out at them and then wish for them to go away and leave her alone (*based 😂*)*which the mirror approved*. So now they are trapped in the mirror in some form of limbo.

While Starlight tells Sunset not to worry of later while things are fine of now, Juniper is using her mirror as a snacks trashcan. It hits the trapped ones but Pinkie Pie eats the candy. So now Sunset discovers Juniper’s presence and has her and Starlight hide. She notice’s Fluttershy’s barrette and decides to confront her alone. So she sees her memories since she didn’t tell what happened to her friends (well knew she wouldn't tell). She asks for her friends back out but Juniper decides no u go inside too.

Now that 7 are in the mirror, their magic ends up transforming Juniper into what she believes is a real star (probably because that’s the only way it seems she’d be taken seriously based upon the past to present). Pretty much, it corrupted her to the point where it appears fearful people are fans. Starlight takes the mirror but she broke a piece of it doing so. *Now as it's breaking* So Juniper tries to take it back from her by attacks or throws objects as her, while it breaks further. The ones trapped don’t know what will happen to them if fully breaks as they see it shatter internally as well. All rests in Starlight Glimmer’s hands.

The reason she’s doing this and doesn’t care is because they kinda took her ambition away (could this be similar to Sunset's feelings when Celestia didn't agree, restricted her path, kept truths away from her, end up driving her away because she didn't like Sunsets path and ideas and place her views above Sunset's?). Her wants and her dreams. Not only that, but she literally has to be in a mall where their existence can be seen and heard from on multiple videos. She feels she has nothing else. Starlight convinces her that she shouldn’t continue and suggests she maybe she's looking for or could have a friend. Juniper wonders who. Starlight said she would and her friends can be too and would forgive her. So she releases them.

Juniper apologizes

and Starlight, Human counterpart Twilight, and Sunset, talk about they are used to or understand her reasons (they’re a kinda messed up group of forgiving friends.) (3 of 8). They’re friends now.

5. Gloriosa Daisy as Gaia Everfree. (Now that I think about it perhaps this could be on the same tier with Wallflower.)

Now Idk why but Filthy Rich apparently owns the land Gloriosa’s great grandparents founded.

Yeahhhhh... I really don’t understand how that happens. Does this have to do with somehow, even if you completely own something, if you don’t pay for some service(s) or tax(es), even if you have no alignment with it, you can lose your property regardless? Is it some kind of weird force payment law or some crap? I have no idea. I wish they told what type of payments because what is she paying for and why and why him. Like imagine if Princess Celestia and Luna, losing their castle they founded and it is now owned by filthy rich. Like WHAT?!

Anyways, she now has only a month to left to raise enough before he turns the camp into a spa resort. (Appears that task couldn't be completed) So she finds some special items. It lets her control the land. She wants to make the week (of this Legend Of Everfree movie or special), the best week because she’s about to lose her land. She thinks she’s got it, control of this magic. Even though Timber Spruce, her brother, is trying to stop her from making excessive use of it or letting go. He even covers for her actions if it was too supernatural. But ya know her time is waning, and that Filthy Rich is playing with their lives or land (well mostly her life and love).

So she was bored when human Derpy and some person I forgot, were trying to make the boat go faster, so Gloriosa used her power to give it a little push. It went fast but unfortunately it crashed and destroyed part the boating dock or deck thing.

Another time was when there was no water where Trixie and some person attempted fishing. Gloriosa removes the rocks dam, which free the the water for them to fish but those rocks fell somewhere (which shocked the campers elsewhere). And then there's some which magic aura crap, randomly leaked on the grass ground.

So anytime, depending on when or where she uses the magic, it could be creating another problem or really dangerous potentially.

Her desire for saving the camp is stronger than Twilight trying to reason with her (yes, Sunset saw memories earlier of Gloriosa in this case). So she transforms into Gaia Everfree, traps her, Sunset, and dog counterpart Spike in vines then blocks the entrance to the cave with boulders. She sees them as obstacles.

Meanwhile she flies or hovers towards the camp area, explains her hatred of Filthy Rich and destroys part of the deck they built earlier, while covering the camp with plants vines and stuff. Her song reinforces her hatred of the Greedy Wolf.

Everyone hears where she coming from but they are mostly terrified by what she’s doing. And trying to stop her or protect themselves or others or escape. but she believes she’s doing the right thing for the past, present, & future. So her precious place and the campers precious place can never be taken away.

The only problem is that she’s um keeping the campers locked inside or trapped. Area without an exit. And the part where she might crush people due to her overflowing power or possibly prevent oxygen intake by covering them in plants. She thinks she got this still (Even if her little brother is trying to reach her). Oh yeah Rarity unfortunately mentioned Spa to her over camp which definitely pissed her off even further. Gloriosa is trying to protect a precious memory for her, her brother and everyone of before, and now. The amount of vines and stuff and what the do while growing and increase, appear to be synonymous to her state as time passes by.

Well she gets defeated and later everyone helps clean her mess. She apologizes to Celestia and Luna because her goals were to make it good for them all as a final time but it was a disaster. They all agreed to help Gloriosa and Timber, fix, fund the camp, and foil the Filthy Wolf’s plan. All works out and that’s all. (Hmm maybe Gloriosa is like more similar to Wallflower or contrasting than I thought. Maybe that’s why it’s before Forgotten Friendship)

Well that’s all I got to say of The Wallflower Blush and Forgotten Friendship (oh well), while talking about the other actions and stuff of Equestria Girls Antagonists/Villains in comparison.

And no, I don't really dislike any of them (except probably Cinch and PostCrush). The Main interest I usually look forward to is Sunset Shimmer.

Too bad this series is currently Forever over, forevermore!

[julessworldd]

Cheerleader and the future rockstar

Warnings: cussing, there’s a jock being an ass talking about the Oc in a gross, sexual way. arguing a little.

A/N: I don’t know much about Izzy’s family life, like his mom and brothers name. I think the one I had is right for his younger brother. And what year he finished high school, bare with me. Oc’s home life is sorta sucky even though she’s the rich cheerleader. she’s not snobby at all like the sterotype everyone has about cheerleaders. I will make a part 2!

@slashscowboyboots​ @roger-taylors-car​ @reigns420​ @awildkaitlynhasappeared​ @ginny-rose-sixx​ @izzysguitar​ since you liked the post last night about the upcoming fic :)

High school Au of Izzy.. Izzy falls for the cheer captain after, she offers her help on an essay in English. Here's the thing the cheerleader has loved Izzy since he grabbed her from falling down the stairs, sophomore year. 

Many know Jeff Isbelle or now Izzy for lots of things. He was the cool, stoner, who was planning on being a rockstar with his buddy, Bill Bailey. To some teachers he was hell on wheels, "The badboy" even though he barely talked. Jocks: Izzy was a creep, just another shadow, stupid stoner who needs to have better life plans. To Judith Channing Izzy was: her crush of two years, wanted to spark a conversation, but her red and black cheer uniform stopped her. Izzy hated the cheer squad because their "Loyalty" to the jocks, they were too happy for his liking at 10 am. Judith remembers when Tommy Lockeler tried to push her down the 3rd floor stairway after, she told him she thought he was nothing but a whore and didn't want to go on a date.  Felt like it was yesterday.. 

I stared at Tommy as he was putting his claim about him being a manwhore. His face got redder and redder by the minute.. 

"Keith told me you had such a tight pussy, Channing. Wanna let me test his theory out? Probably won't you're just a bitch", Tommy spat back.

"Fuck you, Tommy. You just proved my point right there! God, you're so stup-", I felt the air out of my chest leave as I tumbled backwards into someone's arms.  "Whatever", I heard Tommy stomp away. "Hey, hey. You okay?", I heard a soft but gravely voice ask. I opened my eyes to see a tallish boy with medium brown hair, hazel eyes holding me, face with concern. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for not letting me bust my head open, uh?", I said, holding my hands flat on his chest, one hand clutching his Rolling Stones' shirt. "Jeff, but I go by Izzy. Aren't you that Channing girl?", Izzy said, pulling me up, pushing a hair out of my face. "Yeah, I'm Judith. Nice to know my hero's name, Izzy", I blushed.  Izzy grinned, "What made Tommy try to commit murder after lunch anyways?" I smoothed out my uniform skirt, "Just the guy I lost my-", I realized what I was about to say to the new guy. "My hat, this summer. Tommy wanted to- '', I said, but Izzy nodded and seemed to understand what my 'hat' actually was. 

"Well, Keith needed to keep his mouth shut. Tommy is just an asshole, he's a jock they're all the same'', Izzy grumpled. "Yeah, you're right", I said. "Judith! We're gonna be late to practice, come on!", Erin yelled down the hall. "Thanks again, I appreciate it a lot. See ya around, Izzy", I smiled. "No problem. Have a good practice, Jude", Izzy said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his Malobros.  I watched Izzy smirk and skip down each stair, his cute ass bouncing as he went down. "Judith!", Erin yelled again, taking me away from my hero. 

Crazy how that's been two years ago, Izzy doesn't recognize me or chose to at least. After that day, I had a big secret crush on the Johnny Thunders of Lafayette. No guy gets me like Izzy does, Izzy barely knows me but he has such a big affect on me.  I walked into Mr. Allan's senior english class, there was a seat by the window, behind this dark headed boy. I sat down behind him, judging if I liked this seat. It was close enough to board, not in the very very front, nice view outside. "Oh Mike?", the kid turned around. "Oh, you're not Mike. Hi", I looked up and it was Jeff Isbelle. "No, sorry. Is this seat taken?", I asked as my heartrate rose. "No, he came in for a minute, guess he left before I noticed", Izzy said. "Okay class, let's get started!", Mr. Allan clasped his hands together. Allan was going over what we would be doing in the class before we graduated in June. Same bullshit honestly. Read Shakeperse, write essays, read other dead guys' writings. 

Two weeks later, Izzy was still seated in front of me. Making 3rd period class time hell, if you call getting to see his beautiful self plop down everyday. "Alright guys, we finished McBeth and now I'm wanting you to write about how you took the play. I'm asking if you liked the ending, if not write how you would have ended instead. You can use the books, notes we took, even chapter tests I gave back. Due in two weeks", Mr. Allan stated before sitting back at his desk.  It was getting close to 4th period, meaning I could leave for the day, no cheer practice today too. 

"Hey Judith?", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what's up?", I asked from writing my draft. "Did you keep anything from this unit? I lost my binder", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what do you want?", I smiled. "Notes, I guess. I'm not sure how I wanna write this shitty essay", Izzy grinned. Damn what a beautiful smile. I handed him every note I took on the play, side notes, everything.  "Pretty smart for a cheerleader", Izzy said, grabbing my notes. "I liked the play really well, okay?", I fought back.  "If you say so, Judith", Izzy turned back around. 

I walked in the empty room, well thought it was empty. Izzy was sitting in a desk next to Mr.Allan's desk, "Oh sorry, sir", I started to turn around. "It's okay, Judith. Actually, I need you for something", Mr. Allan smiled. I stood next to Izzy. "With what?", I asked. "Mr. Isbelle said you gave him his notes, the first day I assigned this essay. I'm just wanting to make sure he's not lying is all", Mr. Allan said. "Jeff is telling you the truth, sir. He asked if I still had anything about the play and wanted my notes for a starting point, I guess. You said we could use anything we did for the play", I said, starting to get offended he would assume Izzy stole my notes and wanted to cheat. 

"Okay, Judith. Well, since you're here go sit down.", Mr. Allan breathed out, probably embarrassed and a 17 year old girl started him out. The ball rang making Mr.Allan go out for hall duty and talk to other teachers. 

"Hey", Izzy said, standing in front of me. "Hi, Jeff", I smiled. "Thanks for backing me up with dickhead. If I tell you this, will you promise me you won't go to practice and gossip about me?", Izzy said clenching his jaw, he looked really hot. "Of course, Jeff. What's up?", I asked, rubbing my thumb over my other hand. "Your notes helped some, but I'm still stuck. Maybe, it's writer's block I need you to help me crap out this dumb essay. Please?", Izzy said. "Yeah, no problem, Jeffrey. I have cheer until 4:45, but I can meet you somewhere after.", I smiled. Izzy stared at me for a second, "Sure, that's cool. I can give you my address, mom's working late." 

I pulled up to Izzy's place, couple cars were parked outside. I decided to stay on the side of his street and yard, leaving a place for his mother. Izzy stepped out for a smoke as I got out, pulling my brother's t-shirt down. "Boyfriend's shirt?", Izzy blew out smoke from his lips. "No, brother's actually", I said, slinging my bag on my shoulder more. "Oh. Didn't know you had siblings, you gave me the spoiled only kid vibe", Izzy deadpanned. "No, three older brothers and two younger sisters.", I said, feeling small and embarrassed by Izzy. "My brother is here, just ignore him the best you can. He brought home some hamburgers, if you're hungry.", Izzy said, holding the door open. It was an average, but comfortable home. Pictures of Izzy and his brothers, with their mother lined the walls and a few tables. Tv by the wall, couple couches, chairs. Something wet touch my shein, "Sadie! Down. I'm sorry I thought Kevin set her out.", Izzy started to pull Sadie away by her collar. "She's okay. I have two dogs myself, I'm in her house, she's just checking me out. Yeah, you're a pretty girl", I said, bending down to pet her. "What kind of dogs?", Izzy said, sitting on a chair next to Sadie. "German shepherd, named Phoenix, Golden Retriever, Jagger. Jagger is new she's my baby like Phoenix", I said giggling as Sadie licked my hand. "Cool", Izzy mumbled. "Do you wanna start your essay or let me see what you have? Might not have to even start over", I got up and stood by his chair. "Damn, you're really about that essay", Izzy got up, going where I amused his room. 

 "Boys, I'm home!", A woman's voice entered the room. "Oh hi, dear. I didn't know Jeff had a girl over.", She smiled. "Yeah, I'm helping him on an english essay. I'm Judith Channing", I got up and grinned. "Channing? Channing? Is your father's name Frank?", She asked. "Yes, that's him", I said. "I went to high school with him, how is he?" "That's nice, uh he's good. Still in Chicago", I said. "Chicago?" "Yeah, business trip", I said, hoping Izzy would dash in or holler for me to come to see his room. "Does Jeff know you're here?", She asked with a worried look. "Yeah, we met outside. He went to his room for his english stuff, guess he fell to China '', I giggled. "Tell me about it, damn boy takes forever. Jeff! Did you forget about Judith? Jeffery Dean!", His mother yelled. 

"Mom, hey. Though I told you to come with me, Judith?", Izzy said standing beside me. "How was work, Momma?", Izzy hugged her. "Hi, I'm Kevin and you are?", Kevin, Izzy's younger brother checked me out. "Kev, let her alone she's with me", Izzy said, standing beside me protectively. "You're way way out of my brother's leguage. Hey Mom", Kevin said. "Come on. Holler if you need anything", Izzy grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. He grabbed my bag on the way. "Crack your door, Jeff. I mean it!", his mother yelled.  Izzy's room was nice, typical posters, navy blue bed set, desk with papers and pens, small nightstand with a picture of his family, set of records by his recorder player. I slid my shoes off by his desk and sat on the chair. Izzy flopped on his bed, unamused. 

"So what did you think about McBeth?", I asked. Izzy shrugged. "Izzy, your perspective is gonna help write this essay. Tell me", I scoffed. "Just a crazy dude that got killed for letting his power go to his side over what a couple hags had to say. I liked when he got ambushed by the people", Izzy sighed, rubbing his hair around.  "Okay, see that helps. So,you liked the ending and we can stretch your thought out into five paragraphs", I said, looking for a pencil.  "Listen, Judith I'm not in the mood for a stupid play from a dead guy from 400 years ago. Mr.Allan can go fuck himself", Izzy scoffed out. "If you didn't want me over why did you ask for my help. I do have other shit to do, Izzy", I pinched the bridge of my nose. This fucker made me drive half way cross town for this essay. "Then why did accept to come over and help?", Izzy spat back. "I don't know? Probably because I always help people who need help. It's what nice people do anyways", I rolled my eyes.

“Why did I have to ask a smart cheer captain for help?”, Izzy groaned.

“Sorry to break your little stereotype of cheerleaders being dumb and only want to fuck. You know what, Iz? I’m leaving, who cares if you finish the damn essay. Not like you care if you fail or pass, L.A won’t care either way”, I stood by his bed at his nightstand. Izzy stared up at me with confusion. “How do you know wanna go to L.A? I’ve never had a conversation with you before english”, Izzy raised up. “Bill told me you were thinking about if after graduation, he asked my help for math. We have talked before, Izzy. Sophomore year, you caught me from falling to my death after Tommy Lockeler, pushed me down the stairs. You had a Rolling stones shirt on, your hair a little shorter, guess I landed in your arms on a good day.”, I said, with tears in my eyes. “That’s you? No wonder you look familiar besides being a cheerleader. I’m sorry for being a dick, you did come out of your way for me.”, Izzy stood up from his bed. “It’s fine, Izzy. Why don’t you just bullshit it? I’m not feeling too great”, I sighed, walking to his desk for my bag. “Wait. Please don’t leave, I really need your help. I really liked the book and I’m sorta stuck.”, Izzy grabbed my wrist. 

“Okay. If I see you slacking I’m out, Isbelle”, I said. “Sit”, Izzy said, pushing his office chair to me. “Thanks”, I smiled. Izzy pushed a hair out of my face, “Sorry, it was bothering me”  I blushed, before looking away from him. Izzy chuckled, “Something you hiding from me, Judith?” “Tell you what, if you finish the essay, I’ll tell you what I’m hiding, deal?”, I bit my lip. “Deal”, Izzy smirked. Izzy’s brain was flowing and his hand was scribbling on the paper like he didn’t need me over. “Anndd done”, Izzy said, throwing his pencil in the cup he had on his desk. “Let me read it first”, I grabbed the two pages. “You lied”, Izzy whined. I scanned his paper looking for details of the play, if he had the right grammar, punctuation. “Looks good, Izzy. I’m proud”, I laid the paper down. “Thanks, now tell me why you were blushing?”, Izzy laid his hand on my jean clad thigh. “Do I have to?”, I whined. “I did my part, so it’s your turn, Channing”, Izzy said, not breaking his poker face. “Okay, don’t get mad. I have had a crush on since you caught me that day, at times I’m happy Tommy attempted to murder me that day. You happy?”, I stood from his chair and paced besides his bed. “Judith”, Izzy said.

“Hey, Judith, calm down. I have to tell you something too”, Izzy said, grabbing my hand. “What?”, I asked, scared to death he was gonna kick me out. “I like-”, “Hey dinner is ready”, Kevin opened his door, looking down at our hands. “I better get home, mom’s probably worried.”, I lied, she didn’t give a damn about me and my whereabouts. “Okay, I’ll walk you out”, Izzy said. We reached my car, “Well,thanks for the help. Guess I needed to be forced to write”, Izzy said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No problem, I liked hanging out with you”, I smiled. Izzy nodded, “Be safe” “Sure thing. Night Izzy”, I said, unlocking my car door. Izzy stood until I turned at the stop sign from his house. I tried to skip school, to avoid the awkwardness between me and Izzy. He got really quiet after his brother barged in yesterday, at least he was nice enough to walk me to the car and waited for me to get on the main road again. 

I was headed to lunch but was really wanting to sneak out to my car and drive around for a while. Looking through the glass doors that lead to the front parking lot, I could hear my car whine for me to leave. “Fuck it”, I thought grasping the door and pushed it open. “Where do you think you’re going, missy?”, A deep male voice startled me. I turned around to see Izzy grinning. “Oh it’s just you. Come on, let’s ditch”, I smirked. Izzy nodded and opened the door. We ran down the stairs, to my car, laughing. “Why did you wanna skip? You have a good attendance record?”, Izzy asked, plopping into the passenger seat. “Just ready to leave, school was boring. I don’t have cheer practice today. You?”, I asked, starting the car. ‘Shattered’ The Rolling Stones played quietly. “Same reason as you, just fuck it. Didn’t take you as a Stones fan?”, Izzy smirked as I pulled out of the school parking lot and headed towards town. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Izzy. My dog is named after Mick Jagger, remember?”, I smirked. Izzy nodded his head to the beat of the song, going through my cassette tape collection. 

We got out of my car and went to a pair of swings, Izzy groaned. “What’s the matter, afraid one of the stoners will catch you with the cheerleader?”, I smirked. “No, princess. Just haven’t swung since I was 9”, Izzy grumbled. “Suit yourself, Jeff”, I pushed my legs to swing. “You like cheerleading?”, Izzy asked. “It’s alright”, I said. Izzy lit a cigarette and watched me swing my legs back and forth. Izzy caught me as I slowed down, holding the chain, pulling me close to him. I looked in his hazel eyes, cigarette creeped on his breath. “After, I killed Kevin for bargin in on us last night. I got to thinking, we’re getting closer to graduation. I’m bailing this hoosier state, you’re probably going on to join a sorority at Purdue. I wanna tell you something”, Izzy said, breath fanning my neck. “What is it?”, I whispered. “I like you and wanna know if you’ll be my girl?”, Izzy nipped my bottom earlobe.  I pulled him into a kiss, holding his shoulders, “Thought you would never ask, Jeff” Izzy smiled down at me. “And I’m not going to college, Iz. I don’t have to pay to have friends, just so you know. Thinking about going to New York actually”, I whispered. “Wanna join me out west? Don’t go to New York, just cold as Indiana, baby”, Izzy held my waist. “I can do that”, I grinned, kissing his cheek. 

[anxiouslymalicious]

Losers Club Plus One

Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series

A/N: Hi there! I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a long while, but writing became more of a duty than something enjoyable so I took some time off and did some shit. I’m feeling really fucking good now, ready to get back into writing. I’m kind of nervous to post this because this is my first time writing for this fandom and the characters and I’m not sure if this is good, but it’s fun to write so I hope you guys stick with me. 

This is going to be as close to the movie as possible, but there will be inserts of the book, maybe even of the 90ies movies if I feel like they would work better with the slightly off plot that I’m creating. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Oh, and the usual warnings for cursing, death, mentions of blood and alcohol etc. apply. It’s IT so shit is going down.

I hope you enjoy!

“Dad? Are you alright?” asked a small voice behind Richie as he was still in utter shock. Well, the owner of the voice wasn’t exactly small anymore, but it sounded so hesitant and broken, it might as well had been a little kid trying to catch his attention. His throat was still burning, the foul taste of bile laid heavily on his tongue. Richie’s face scrunched up in disgust as another wave if nausea hit him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good- “ He started, but was interrupted by himself as he leant over the railing and more of his stomach’s content escaped. The young girl stepped closer to her father, lying her hand on his back in a comforting manner before a group of people busied her father again, giving him booze and water before his show.

“Be good, little one.” Richie rushed out as he passed his phone to his daughter who would take it to his dressing room where it wouldn’t be any more of a distraction than it had been so far. The girl nodded and sent a smile his way, but he didn’t catch it anymore as he stormed out onto the huge stage, greeted by cheers. The smile was quickly wiped off the girl’s face as she made her way through the narrow hallways filled with too many people for her liking. Ducking under equipment, dodging people in suits who were too busy looking at their phones to realise where they were going and ignoring the voices of people telling her that she was not supposed to go into certain areas. She was, they just didn’t know, so she showed them her backstage pass and kept walking until she saw the door to her safety. Once she stepped into the stuffy room that reeked of cigarettes and alcohol, she closed the door behind her, locked it and made herself comfortable on the little couch.

Her father’s phone was buzzing in the young girl’s pocket, catching her attention. Who in hell had called and what did they say to throw her father so out of track? Judging by the nervous voices around her in the hallways, she was sure that her father wasn’t off to a good start for the show, something that hadn’t happened in ages. Not since his first actual show.

The girl was absent-mindedly biting her nails before another buzz of her father’s phone pulled her out of it and she decided to have a look. Richie’s phone was blowing up with messages from his manager, which she decided to ignore as she checked the calls. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that Richie had been called by someone from Derry, Maine, but a bit of deeper digging told her that it was actually the local library’s number. Rather than reaching the sweet relief of knowing, she felt her insides churn with fear and confusion, feeling restless until she heard the familiar ruckus that ensued when her father was close to finishing a show.

It had felt like literal ages since Richie had left for the stage and the young girl was eager to ask her father about what was going on. Especially after that whole library-thing. Obviously, she had checked several times that she got the number right, and she did. Was her father throwing up because he was so nervous over a few overdue books from years ago?

The whole time she spent waiting, the girl tried to figure out whether her father had been on tour in Derry, whether he had even mentioned Derry ever before, but she was sure that, in her years of living with her father, she had never so much as heard him utter the word ‘Derry’ ever before.

Quickly, the girl moved to unlock the door so her father wouldn’t run into the door again like he had many times already, then sat down on the couch again, her leg bouncing nervously as she mindlessly tapped her fingers against the phone in her hand.

It wasn’t long until Richie stormed into the room, locking every unnecessary person out and turned to his daughter, drink in hand, holding his other hand out for her to pass him his phone. She did, following their usually so quiet routine. After spending more than an hour talking endlessly about whatever jokes they had put into the set, he was grateful when he could spent a few minutes not saying anything, just listening to the voice of his daughter telling him about what had happened in school that day, telling him what stupid things someone backstage did or what she and her friends were up to. It was relaxing to him, knowing that she was there, and her life was going somewhere.

But not this time.

“Dad why did the Derry library call you?” she asked with the calmest voice she could muster, although her voice was shaking with fear. Of what, she didn’t know, not yet, but she knew it was something big. Something bigger than her or him. Something bigger than overdue books and the terrifying old ladies that would scold you and make you feel like crying even when it had only been a day overdue.

“It wasn’t the library, it was,” Richie sighed before taking another sip of his drink, “It was an old friend of mine. Mike Hanlon. We made a promise when we were kids and now, I need to go back to Derry.” Richie mumbled into his glass. Nonetheless, she understood every single word he said.

“We.” She said, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she got up from where she was curled up on the couch.

“No. Definitely not. You’re staying here.” Richie said before downing the rest of his drink and looking through the cabinets for a new bottle.

“On my own? Or with my non-existent mother who left me at your door, remember? Or with the neighbours? The creepy ones with all those fucking life-size dolls?” she asked, her voice growing louder.

“Oh, fuck off, you’re lucky you’re my daughter, Y/N.” Richie said before letting his own body drop to the couch she had previously occupied. “Shouldn’t have let you watch my shows. Big Bill is going to love you.” Richie grumbled, rubbing his face. A grin spread on Y/N’s face as she sat next to her father, lightly leaning her head against his shoulder. Automatically, Richie’s arm spread over her shoulder, pulling her closer, trying to keep her safe from what was about to come. From the inhuman atrocities she was about to witness. Keep her safe from IT.

“When are we leaving?” she mumbled into Richie’s shoulder. Another sigh escaped his lips.

“As soon as possible.” He told her and, so, she found herself in an airplane not much later. They would fly as close to Derry as possible before taking a rental car to drive to the Derry Town House where they would be staying.

“What was Derry like? And your friends?” Y/N asked curiously as they found their seats on the plane. She watched as her father stared straight ahead for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowed, as he was deep in thought.

“I- I don’t- I can’t fucking remember. I honestly can’t remember shit, Y/N.” Richie mumbled, followed by a groan as an indescribable pain shot through his eyes. He closed them tightly, his hands flying to the armrests, fingernails digging into the material. Y/N watched on, shocked to say the least. Shaking her father, she tried to find out what was wrong with him, but as suddenly as this burning pain in his eyes, behind his eyes, had appeared, it had also gone.

“Don’t worry, I’m fucking fantastic.” Richie grumbled towards his worried daughter as he leant back in his seat, trying to remember where that came from, why it felt so familiar.

After many tiresome hours that were mostly spent sleeping, with rare exceptions of Richie mumbling to string his memories together, using her as some kind of journal to keep track of what he remembered and how his memories were connected, the father-daughter-duo found themselves just outside the airport, looking for the car they rented, on wobbly legs. The sunset was about to start, the sun lazily rose, turning the deep dark blue into a pale, greyish-blue colour that slowly but surely turned into a pinkish hue.

“Did you fall asleep standing or are you just being the same lazy ass as always?” Richie screamed, standing in front of the car that seemed to be theirs. And, for the first time in many hours, Y/N could see the outlines of a genuine smile growing on her father’s face. And she couldn’t help but smile with him.

“Just wanted you to do all the searching, old man.” She grinned as she took her bag to the car and got in. Richie, obviously, searched for a radio station that played some good old rock’n’roll to distract him for the fear rising in the pit of his stomach. He was scared, but he wouldn’t admit it to his daughter. Because he wasn’t only afraid of IT and the things IT might do not only to him, but also his friends or, worst of all, his daughter, but Richie was afraid of facing his old friends. Or more those who would appear. He didn’t have high hopes for them, expecting that maybe three of them would appear and he would be able to take his and his daughter’s ass out of the town first thing after the lunch because they were not enough to defeat IT.

That thought kept Richie sane as he walked up the scarily unfamiliar yet strangely street towards the Town House. Shivers ran up and down his spine and he felt Y/N’s comforting hand on his back, trying her best to ground him. And, just like her father, Y/N wouldn’t admit that she was scared. She hadn’t seen what he had, she didn’t know what she was facing, what was so chilling about this town, its residents and its sewers, but she had never seen her father this quiet before. And that scared her.

Once they arrived in their small room, the duo sat down on the edges of their beds, silence taking over. The sun had meanwhile risen higher, clearly visible and warming the cool streets.

“Maybe we should order breakfast or nap a bit?” the young girl broke the unbearable silence, pregnant with unspoken opinions. Richie still thought she shouldn’t be here with him, but in their house back in LA. Y/N, however, was convinced that her father needed her support with whatever he was about to do. He still refused to tell her about IT, still hoping that they would be gone in a few hours and she didn’t need to be scared of something they couldn’t do anything about, something they didn’t need to fight.

Richie nodded, kicked off his shoes with a sigh and laid back on his bed. His daughter grew irritated.

“Maybe you can order something while I’m taking a shower. Maybe then you’ll have your panties untwisted.” The girl said before stepping into the small room, closing and locking the door behind her. What she didn’t expect, though, was to come face to face with a boy her age. He looked like a normal kid, soft curls surrounding his face, but there was something off about him.

“I see, the loser’s newest addition finally made it to Derry. And she has just as many secrets as all the other losers.” Said the boy with a chilling smile on his thin lips.

“What the actual fuck are you doing here and how the fuck did you get in here? You know what? Doesn’t matter right now. Just please get the fuck out.” She growled, puzzled at how neither she nor Richie had noticed a teenage boy hiding in their bathroom. Hadn’t her father used the bathroom when they first entered?

As she turned to unlock the door, an ice-cold hand laid itself on her shoulder, pulling her back into the cold body behind her. She now squirmed, trying to unlock and open the door rather frantically, desperate to get away from whatever ghostly being was behind her, but no matter how hard she tried, which way she turned the key, it did nothing to open the door.

“Dad!” she yelled, hammering her hands against the wood. “Help me! Some creep is in here and I can’t get out.” Richie was up in a flash, his heart feeling like it just dropped to his stomach, and ran to the door, yelling his little girl’s name in despair and banging his fists against the old door.

“Y/N, whatever you’re seeing is not real. Don’t be scared, it’s not real!” Richie screamed, his voice clear but shaky. The girl was confused at his utterances.

“How is he not-“ she started, but stopped when the boy was grinning at her, now looking older than before and covered head to toe in blood that was streaming from the huge cuts on his lower arms. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” she forced out instead and tried to get as far away from the being as possible.

“Don’t worry, Richie. She will float with all the other children and your dirty little secret will remain uncovered.” It said in a high voice that didn’t fit the man in front of the girl before trying to grab her throat. Y/N tried to duck away, but she felt her body being pushed forward against the sink, her head crashing against the mirror, breaking it.

“Y/N! Try to hurt it! It’s not real! Not real, it’s not real!” Richie kept yelling through the door as he kept kicking and throwing his whole body against the fragile wood. Although his words were meant to comfort his daughter, it sounded more like a mantra he was using to comfort himself. The girl listened to her father, picking up some of the shards that were now in the sink. With a swift movement, she sunk the shard into the older man’s face, pulling it down as hard as she could. A huge gash was on the man’s bloody face, but instead of more blood, some black mass seeped out of the wound, but whatever it was that was standing in front of the teenager, it didn’t seem too phased. An angry expression formed on its face before it leaped for her, grasping her throat and pushing her up against the wall. She was gasping, desperate to fill her lungs with the oxygen they were already lacking, but not yet screaming for. She squirmed, hammering the shard in her hand against the thing, successfully hurting it. It let go of her, dropping her into the bathtub below her before fleeing through the toilet.

Richie finally managed to break down the door, falling into the room only to find his daughter shaken up beyond belief, curled up in the bathtub. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes while blood streamed down her suddenly paler than usual complexion from an open wound on her forehead. She didn’t look like she had seen a ghost, she looked like she was the ghost.

“Oh god, come here. I- fuck. It’s alright, it’s over. You’re alright. Fucking hell, you’re alright.” Richie mumbled as he crawled into the bathtub with her, pulling his little girl into his arms, tightly pressing her shaking body into his chest. Soft whimpers escaped her lips against her will. Richie spread out a little, legs hanging out of the bathtub as he just tried to comfort her while trying not to lose it and leave immediately. Back to LA, where IT couldn’t reach them.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

The combination of listening to the audiobook of James Acaster’s Perfect Sound Whatever and watching Never Mind the Buzzcocks is making me think and feel some stuff about music. I am presently trying to work out how to put those thoughts and feelings into words. This will take me anywhere between half an hour and six months, but whenever I achieve it I shall post it on this blog. So beware: there is more rambling to come on topics that are inspired by, but not directly related to, the nominal topic of this blog (British comedy).

In the meantime, a thought I can put into words is that James Acaster talking about the album You Want It Darker is giving me vivid memories of late 2016, when Leonard Cohen released that album and promptly died about three weeks later. He died the day before Donald Trump was elected, but the news wasn’t released until two days after the election. So in reality, he died before having to see Trump become president. But what the world saw was Trump getting elected and then a Canadian icon of folk music dying immediately after. I remember saying at the time that it felt like whatever God may or may not exist saying, “Is Trump getting elected enough terrible shit to happen this week for you? Or do you want it darker? Because if you do, I can arrange the death of Leonard Cohen as well.” This all happened three weeks after Cohen released an album called “You Want It Darker”, which contains a song called “You Want It Darker”, which is exactly what it sounds like (a song about taking an already bad situation and making it worse).

The week after Trump was elected and Cohen died, I listened to a lot of Leonard Cohen. Partly because he’d just died so he was on my mind, and partly because a lot of his songs fit with the way the world felt after the 2016 election. You Want It Darker fit the bill, of course. But some of his less recent songs, like Everybody Knows (the opening lines to that song are “Everybody knows that the dice are loaded/Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed/Everybody knows the war is over/Everybody knows the good guys lost”... three days after the election I put that song on while waiting for a bus and hearing those words made me cry right there at the bus stop), and First We Take Manhattan, also felt very relevant (if anyone reading this wants to find those songs, search them on YouTube with the word “London” and click on the Live in London version; the Live in London version is the best version of basically every song on that album and all three of those songs are on that album).

This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about that week in 2016, when Trump was elected and then Cohen died and it seemed like there would never be hope in the world again. Thinking about how this week is the first time since then that it’s felt like there might be any step in the right direction. So it’s cool to hear James Acaster bring up that album on this book that I just started.

Anyway, the above post was not actually the description of my thoughts on music I promised; that is still to come. I can just ramble a lot even when I’m not writing about anything in particular. Below is the song of November 2016. You want it darker? We kill the flame.

[serendipitous-magic]

what's your writing process like? do you plot things out beforehand? or do you sort of write it as it comes? a mix of both?

Depends on what I'm writing!

In general I'm a planner. I can't write from a blank page, unless I'm just like... really really captivated by whatever I'm writing, which was what happened with the first chapters of both The Art of Living Your (Second) Life and The Partnership Plan.

a) In general, if it's a fanfiction I'm writing, I tend to build the plan as I write - meaning, oftentimes I'll be inspired to write the first chapter, and I'll write that with little idea what the rest of it will be. Or, even if I have an idea what the rest will be, it's more of a vague skeleton than a full plan. And then, as I continue to write, I think more about where the story is going and I continuously add to and refine my plan kind of alongside the actual writing. In this way, the plan grows at the same time that the actual chapters do - but because the chapters take significantly longer to write than planning does, the plan outpaces the "real" writing and I usually know the basic story arc from fairly early on. Then it's just a matter of fleshing it out, adding detail, writing down scenes I thought of, etc. And then when I get to that point in the actual writing, I have a framework in place already.

-_-_-

b) Sometimes for fanfic, I have a more complete plan upfront - although I use "complete" here to mean "from beginning to end," not "completely detailed." So, more like a full skeleton than a full body, if that makes sense. I did that with Roll for Strength. What usually happens is that my plan will look something like...

...

Chapter One

-Will suspects Mike has a girlfriend and is kind of put out about it but thinks he's over Mike so he tells himself he doesn't care

-Will walks in on Mike and his BF (name??) and has a crisis (they don't see Will, so Will knows about Mike but Mike doesn't know that Will knows)

-Will might get off to that later, guiltily? (Or move to chapter two)

Chapter Two

-Do Mike's POV to tell about how he ended up dating a guy, how he got very disillusioned with the world after canon events and got into a "fuck it, the rules don't matter and I hate them anyway" mentality, which eventually snowballed into him kind of realizing and accepting his sexuality earlier than usual fanon

-Also introduce BF (name??) in a scene

-Set time and place - season should set the mood if not already mentioned in Ch 1

-Maybe also do BF's POV briefly to introduce him?? Or leave that for later

...

Etc.

And that's the original skeleton plan. And then it gets expanded upon more and more and more as I continue to think about the story, sometimes even with full pages' worth of unbroken text blocks as I get inspired and start basically thought-vomiting an entire scene. So by the time I get around to actually writing it, it might look like the above, or it might be a few steps shy of an actual draft already, depending on how much I've thought about / worked on that part.

See #5 in this writing advice post to see what I mean about a "thought vomit" draft.

-_-_-

c) Here's the thing - the above was for fanfic, or for short stories, or stories that I'm just kind of having fun with.

For original stuff, I adhere much more tightly to the "rules," because the guidelines for original work (that you might try to publish in the actual publishing market) are much stricter - and for good reason! Fanfiction is a sandbox, and we're all invested in the characters and worlds and settings already. We're all reading and writing fanfic because we already love these characters and this world, and we just want to play in it.

It's a different situation with original novels that you hope to publish. The plot, pacing, tension, and story beats have to be much, much tighter and more polished. Because people reading original work have no prior reason to be invested in it or care what happens - that's work that you have to do. For fanfic, that work was done for you by the original thing. Not to mention, the publishing world is so absolutely choked with competition, and the emphasis lies so heavily on sales, that if your book isn't fucking top-tier compelling, no publisher or agent will take a second look at it. Which is kind of unfortunate, because there's value in slower, more relaxed, more reflective storytelling, too - it's just not what capitalism has decided to value, which is sad.

But anyway.

When writing an original thing, I basically need a full plan - beginning to end, covering all plot points. Not necessarily all the details, just all the plot points - I need a skeleton and I need connective tissue. The rest comes later. But to start, I need to know what happens, why, and how the characters get from event to event. I need to know the physical story events, the emotional beats, and how those things logically flow throughout the story.

Some people can write without this and it still turns into a compelling story, tight narrative, etc. I envy these people. I have all respect for these people. I cannot do this. If I write original work with no plan, and especially without at least like 50-75% of a plan, I end up with something slow, meandering, and kind of limp. No bueno.

So, I usually use a beat sheet.

What's a beat sheet?

It's a 15-beat plotting structure used by screenwriters. And, yeah, technically it's for movies / screenplays. But storytelling is storytelling. And it's highly flexible. (And my favorite professor ever taught it to me in college so you can pry it out of my cold dead hands.)

Google it. It's what I use to make sure my (original work) plots are tight, have momentum, have a satisfying character arc, etc.

Okay, okay, I'll paste the basic structure below just so you can see wtf I'm talking about:

-_-_-

-Act I:

1) The First Frame

-What is the first thing we see? This should be a snapshot of the main character’s problem, before the story begins

-Ex: the Star Destroyer in A New Hope

2) The World Around Us

-What is the main character’s world like at the beginning of the story?

-What is missing in the main character’s life?

3) State the Theme (sneak this into The World Around Us)

-What is the story secretly about? This should happen during The World Around Us

4) Inciting Incident (smol tentpole)

-What happens to put the hero on the road? This is where the hero’s life changes forever.

5) The Hero Questions

-1st introspective moment

-Can the hero really do this? Should the hero chicken out?

-Oftentimes the hero fails at something

-Ex: Luke gets his ass beat by the raiders

-Act II:

6) Crossing the Threshold / The Emotional Hurdle (big tentpole)

-The main character makes a choice

-Beginning of Act II

7) The B Story / The Love Story

-Introduced here

-Often but not always a love story

8) Promise of the Premise

-Fun and games in the world you promised

-Horror movie? Creeps here!

-Sci fi? Space battles!

-Animation? Shenanigans!

9) Midpoint (big tentpole)

-The hero finds out that what they want is not what they need

-Luke rescues the princess - turns out that’s not really what the story was about

10) Bad Guys Close In / Throwing Rocks

-Events conspire to tear the hero’s goal to shreds

-Wesley is mostly dead, Inego is drunk, Fezzick is part of the brute squad

-This is the other side of the fun and games coin where things are no longer fun

11) All is Lost

-Something super bad happens, and that goal is impossible

-If someone important is gonna die, it’s probably now

12) The Pit of Despair (smol tentpole)

-The hero mourns the death (if someone died) and wallows in his/her lowest point

13) Inspiration

-A fresh idea

-Act III:

14) Come and Get Some / Final Confrontation (big tentpole)

-The final confrontation - the final showdown

-A and B stories wrapping up at the same time

-The theme makes sense and the battle is engaged

15) Final Frame

-Opposite of the first frame

-The hero is changed

-_-_-

It's what I use. But hey, you don't have to. What works for me might not work for you.

I'll finish this off by pasting in a section of actual real-ass planning I have open in a document for one of my novels at this moment (it's giving me the evil eye, I swear) so you can see what I kind of mean by "thought vomiting." Also note that in my actual document, the bullet points are indented incrementally to be kind of "nestled" underneath the relevant points, if that makes sense, and that it's a whole eye-watering mess of different colors. But for Tumblr, it's this:

-_-_-

-You have to be rescued by the rest of the team, because you fell down that hole - and you are, eventually, after screaming yourself hoarse some more (plus it’s been like an hour or more now, so they have since noticed that you were missing)

-I could gloss over this, like end the chapter when you run away, and open the next one with “It takes another half hour of screaming your throat nearly bloody before the team finds you,” or something

-They berate you for chasing after ghosts - you say you didn’t find anyone down there, because you know for damn sure nobody’s gonna believe what you think you saw, and you don’t even think you believe it

-This leads to a trip to the local doctor (a clinic, probs, akin to UrgentCare), which you’re not happy with because that’s more people taking notice of you

-However, you’re also going through the change in mindset here - see below

-Note: I as the writer don’t have to worry about the paperwork or whatever that you’d normally have to fill out, getting hurt on the job, because you weren’t officially hired - however, it would be a good “humanity is okay” moment if the guy who hired you came in and helped you with the medical expenses because he felt bad - he’d also probably be a little nervous about you suing or something, but you assure him that you have zero interest in that

-I could include a funny line where the guy says he’ll pay for your doctor bill and you try to say no (being indebted to someone is bad news for you) but he insists, because he says he feels responsible, and you just kind of stare at him and then blurt, “Do you need me to kill anyone for you?” (Something you probably regret as soon as you say it, not because you expect him to accept but because you abruptly remember what happened two days ago.) (Would it be too much to also add like “You want me to murder anyone for you? You want a blowjob? I will do anything,” and he gets flustered and bats it off like “Nah, nah, nah, chill out. You’re crazy, man.” And insists that you don’t need to pay him back)

-Here’s a decision I have to make - does the guy pay for your doctor bills as well as paying for your work today (leaving you enough money to potentially split town, but you decide not to), or do you have to pay the $2,500+ in doctor bills with no insurance for the injury, which raises the stakes by depleting all your money?

-I think I like Option A best, because it gives Sam more agency as a character if they decide to stay despite having the option to leave, versus them just being stuck completely - plus I don’t know how else I’d be able to explain away you having money for the hotel

-The guy who hired you pays you for the work day here - and maybe, just maybe, that gives you barely enough to buy that used car (although, why would it? It couldn’t have been more than like $200 for 8 hours of work, maybe $300 if he was really really desperate - if it was a really cheap used car, that might give you barely enough to buy the car but literally nothing left over)

-Point being, maybe you have enough money to bolt now, if you chose to - and you have to make the choice not to

-The car you found might be a $1,500 Honda Civic (or Jeep or whatever) with a dead battery, and the guy selling it says it should run fine with a new battery, which you Google (apparently it would be somewhere in the range of $100-$200) - maybe you think of how nice the mechanic was for you and wonder if you could cut a bit of a deal with him, if you get this car - and if the guy pays for your trip to the doctor and pays you for the temp work, this could just tip you into the margin of being able to afford the car, if you haggle with the seller

-_-_-

Or another example, with more actual sentences:

-_-_-

-As you approach the trailer you start to register a smell that turns your stomach - something like a porta potty and something like the sharp tang of rusting metal. It makes you pause - maybe there really is someone in there, using the place to live whether there’s a sewage hookup or not - it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing you’ve heard of. But after standing for a bit, silent and listening, and then hiding behind a large tree to chuck a rock at the vehicle to no response, you continue forward. You’ll just have to be cautious. Your spirits lift when you see the door. It’s completely grown over. (Leafy vines lace over it, tangling in the handle, yellowing and unbroken. If someone is living in there, they’ve been using the window to come and go, and that doesn’t seem all too likely. Bolstered by a new swell of confidence, and picturing the unlikely riches you might find stashed away in a cabinet or a glove compartment, you cross the last few feet towards the shape.

-You find the body and recognize it as one of the two obnoxious vlogging dudes from the motel

-I’m kind of imagining the moment of discovery like the wardrobe moment in Narnia where, during your nice forest trek, there’s been some pleasant acoustic music playing (like All the Pretty Girls by Kaleo maybe) and then it just stops abruptly in the middle of a phrase, maybe echoing slightly, when you see the body, and all at once everything is sickly silent.

-Oh dude, maybe you continue thinking it’s a duffel bag (possibly feeling pretty upbeat, though cautious until you’re literally about to step over it, and then you happen to glance down and get a sickening, chest-slamming shock when an empty human face is staring up at you

-Note: there should be mushrooms growing in, on and around the RV, because mushrooms are Creepy

-You go to investigate the RV

-Maybe you recognized the body as one of the vloggers and you’re trying to see if his friend is around - or maybe, in a kind of sick daze, you short circuit and find yourself doing the only thing you can think to do: continuing along your trajectory, stumbling towards the RV and tearing the rusted-out door free from the lattice of brittle vines that held it in place (this is what alerts The Dude that someone has been here), like if you just get to your original goal that’ll fix everything - somehow, if you just keep moving forward on the track you set out on, that thing won’t be real anymore - at the very least you have to get inside, to put a door between you and the body, like you’re pulling the blankets over your head to shield yourself from the boogeyman. Just as long as you’re not out there with, with...

-_-_-

Anywho, I'll stop.

I apologize again for... (scrolls up for a million miles) all of that, but you asked me about my passion and now you pay the price, lmao.

[theindigomillennialchronicles]

Blog Entry 6

08/30/2021

10 days ago marked the 2 year anniversary of the death of my best friend of 11 years. She was born 03/11/1996, died 08/20/2019, right before the pandemic started rampaging. Writing that word, “died”…it’s hard. Harder to say. It’s been a rough time since then. I went into the pandemic already severely depressed, anxious and grieving for her loss. Then I got reinjured at work and fell behind on bills because my doctor didn’t properly fill out a document so my 7 months worth of worker’s compensation claims were denied. A lot has happened. I mean A LOT. I know nobody actually reads this blog. I use it more for a place to vent and make order of the emotional soup and rampaging mess that are my thoughts. I’ve spoken to 3 therapists in that time and all of them recommended I should go to a psychiatrist, that I might need to be medicated. Unfortunately all of that is expensive and I fell so far behind on my bills from the 7 months of no income that everything I started earning once I got cleared to return to work, I used to catch up as much as I could. I ended my marriage in 2019 as well. The loss of Lash (my bff) made me realize how short life is and how one day I could die, seemingly out of nowhere and have never cared about my happiness. I had to be selfish for a time, I had to choose me and in that process I realized something about myself. I’m polyamorous. Maybe I’ll get into all that in the next blog entry.

Not everything that has happened has been negative, however. After 7 year of destroying my body and mental health, I quit my federal job and decided to start over somewhere new. I’m moving to the country and am going to start my dream of building a self sufficient homestead. Getting into all those details would entitle an entirely different blog so I’ll move past that to the biggest blessing I have received. Sometime through my time being separated and decide to focus on me I met her. We met at the club, she asked me for my number, and for someone severely introverted that gets you points. Anyway I gave her my info that night and six months later, I asked her to be my girlfriend on a camping trip. Being polyamorous is weird sometimes. To experience the heartbreak of ending a marriage while experiencing he high of falling in love with someone new made me feel like I was going insane. At times guilty as if I was wrong, but after all this time to be home and do research, educate myself and speak to others like me, I learned that it was normal and it would all fall into place with time. Spoiler, it did.

Fast forward to today, I’m writing again, my mental health is still a struggle but I’ve cleared the mind space enough to remember my passions. I have project ideas and new ways to share infinite consciousness with those around me. September 1st we are leaving on our long road trip north to a new adventure, and the best part is I for once feel safe and like I’m not carrying the weight of the world and it’s responsibilities alone. She showed me a new kind of love. I’m beyond grateful to have her in my life.

So that’s what I have been up to…anyway, now that we got that over with I have some of those random thoughts to share. I started reading a revised version of the Gnostic Bible and it pushed me to these random thoughts. See, I’ve always felt this weird fear with religion. I mean apart from the trauma of growing up in a aggressively Pentecostal household, as an adult religion makes a weird dark feeling crawl up my spine. According to the Gnostics, the god of the christian bible is actually the bad son of the actual real life force energy and this planet was created out of envy and jealousy. Making it the reason why this world is so full of darkness, pain and anguish. They say we were imprisoned in this physical form by a him as a way to try and harness the energy our souls carry. The way to salvation being knowledge, not as in book smart but as in true infinite wisdom. The knowledge of ourselves, past present future all connecting us to the real creator.

I’m still working on finishing the book but just the bit I read opened up a whole new can of worms because lately I’ve been feeling off. My existential crisis has been flaring, I find myself disassociating a lot or going about my days in a fog. I hear things when nothing is there and I’ve been absorbing people’s emotions too much for my own good. I get random moments of extreme sadness on days when my morning went great. Idk how my gf deals with it but she’s been keeping me grounded. She has bpd, and adhd so she has her own battles to fight and I always help her as I should, we keep each other above water, yet I feel most days she’s better of without me, not because I’m no good but because I feel like I wont ever feel normal, like I don’t belong in this reality. There’s a darkness about this dimension. IDK wtf is going on but people are walking around empty eyed, I guess a pandemic will do that to us.

I’m not giving up, don’t worry, but I keep feeling like a huge change is coming and if I don’t do something about my noggin I’ll miss out on being a apart of the shift that is nearing. In my opinion we’ll either be the generation that changes this planets course or, we’ll let the dark forces win and cause us to be so busy fighting with one another to try and stop the train of humanity which is barreling down the tracks towards a cliff that will toss us right off the edge of existence. Millennials and GenZ are creating a lot of noise currently, I’m proud. I just wish more of us would stick to it instead of just posting when it’s viral. I’ve decided that being as my social anxiety is so bad, I’ll start working on my grain of salt by using my creative energy. I’ll try to build a platform, a stage where I can express myself and educate through the communication noise of 1s and 0s that is the internet.

I’ve been told that the best thing to do to fight low frequencies and pain is to produce alot of love energy. So I’ll start there. As always remember I am here. If you need an ear or someone to tell happy things to. Maybe that’ll help. Maybe hearing your good will help me appreciate mine more. I’ll be back tomorrow. I have a project to get started. I have dreams of an audiobook series. I decided to stop letting it stay a dream.

Much love. Day

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Debut || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || you’re twenty years old, a full-time uni student, and you’re living out of home. money is tight. so, naturally, you decide to sell your virginity to the highest bidder. when you get an offer from some guy in his mid-thirties, you put on your nicest dress and head on over. but there’s a problem: he has no idea who you are, or why you’ve turned up at his house at nine o’clock at night. maybe things aren’t going to be as simple as you’d hoped. modern day au.

rating || explicit, with fluff dotted throughout. 18+ only. do not read if you are under eighteen. the age gap between reader and roger is sixteen years.

word count || about 17.7k.

author’s notes || welcome one and all to my very first fic on this blog! i pictured roger circa ‘85 (specifically live aid) for this fic. this fic is also dedicated to my friend and fellow mid-thirties-Roger enthusiast Jennifer @mrfahrenhcit (i couldn’t find a way to work in everything you asked, but i’ve saved some of them for the next roger fic that’s in the works). fun fact: this is the first reader fic where i’ve used ‘Y/N’. some people have said they’d had issues with this post being extremely slow to load, or the app has crashed - i think it’s just bc it’s so long, and i apologise for the inconvenience.  [i am a proud member of the anti-cross-tagging club.]

masterlist

     You don’t think you’ve ever felt more nervous before in your entire life.  You’ve wiped your sweaty palms on your dress ten times in the past two minutes, and your heart hasn’t stopped racing from the moment you woke up this morning.

    What are you doing? Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?

    Well, that’s the thing. You know exactly what the fuck you’re doing.

    You aren’t doing it out of embarrassment, or anything to do with pride. You don’t feel pressured, not by anyone, not even by society, fuck society, but you saw some dumb article about it – it was hardly even an article, just gossip – and it gave you the idea, and then you were doing some research about it, just for the money, it’s just for the money, you’ve been living out of home for two years now and life’s still kicking you in the ass, so why wouldn’t you do it for money, if you could? And you can. So you went onto some website and snooped around to check for at least some sign of legitimacy, and then, well, you were making an account, and you made an account, and uploaded some photos that you never thought you’d upload to the Internet, and, a couple weeks later, you found out that someone had chosen you. Chosen you.

    And now here you are.

    On your way to a strange man’s house.

    To lose your virginity to him.

    Because he’s paid for it.

    Well, he’s paid half. The other half comes… after.

    And you’re not nervous about the actual sex part, you suppose, but more about the fact that you’re going to a stranger’s house for sex. Does that make you a sex worker? Could you call someone who played guitar in one gig and got paid for it, but never got paid for it again, a musician?

    Probably. But maybe that isn’t the best comparison.

    You don’t know much about this guy. Just his address, his name, his age – thirty-six, could be worse, to be fair – and that he’s obviously got plenty of cash to spare. And he’s definitely not the sort of guy you want to have around. Seeing as, y’know, he’s paid a twenty-year-old virgin to have sex with him.

    The Uber pulls up to a stop in front of a house. It’s dark outside, almost nine in the evening, so the house is hard to make out, but it’s quite a nice place, very white-picket-fence. Something out of a magazine catalogue about the suburbs. You thank your Uber driver and grab your oversized handbag, climbing out of the car.

    You close the door behind you.

    The Uber drives off.

    And you’re alone on the sidewalk.

    You hoist the handbag onto your shoulder. It’s got a couple of things you think you’ll need – condoms, lube, two change of clothes depending on what this guy is after. You think you look more than nice enough in your heels and tight, black dress, but just in case.

    You glance at your phone, double-checking the address. You send a quick message to your best friend Justine: at the house. will keep u updated.

    She’s the only one who knows; and she only knows because you figured that at least someone should know, if something goes wrong.

    Good God, you’re hoping nothing goes wrong. Not in that way. Not in any way, really.

    And again, you’re back to asking yourself what the fuck you’re doing.

    You take a deep breath, and start heading up the front path.

    Your hands are shaking by the time you reach the front step, but you force yourself to raise a fist and rap your knuckles on the door. The automatic porch light is yellow, and you can’t help but feel irked by how unflattering it is.

    You can hear movement inside the house. A part of you is searching for the sound of kids, although God forbid there’s any to be heard. But a guy like this… Well, your first conclusion is that he’s looking for an affair.

    You really don’t want to be some kind of mistress. But, you suppose, this is really just a business transaction, so you’re free of at least most of the guilt, right? All of it, if you actually have no idea if he’s married.

    Please don’t mention your wife, you pray. Don’t implicate me or whatever.

    Finally, the door opens, and you feel like you’re about to throw up your heart onto your feet. But you push it down, and drink in the man in front of you.

    If you weren’t sure before if he was a dad, now it’s unmistakable. He’s slim, and reasonably tall – not remarkably so, but still tall – and he’s dressed in loose jeans and a blue flannel that he has rolled up to his elbows. His hair is blond, sort of shaggy, sort of spiky, like he spends his time running his hands through it. You idly wonder what it’d feel like in your hands. Guess you’ll find out soon enough.

    But the thing that really knocks your socks off is the big blue eyes that blink at you, framed by eyelashes that you’d kill to have yourself. Those eyes flash down to your outfit, and then back up at your face.

    Okay. Maybe this whole thing won’t be that bad at all.

    You give him your most winning smile. “Hi,” you say in a way that you hope is both alluring and professional.

    He blinks at you again. “Hi,” he says, his eyes wide. His gaze flits up and down your body, like he’s trying to compute what he’s seeing in front of him. “Um, hello. What, uh– Can I help you?”

    His voice is soft, softer than you were expecting. Gentle, almost.

    You lick your lips and shift your feet. “I’m, ah, Mandy. Are you Roger? Taylor?” Your name is fake, of course. You’re not sure about his. Not that it matters.

    “Yes, that’s me,” Roger says. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh, I’m sorry, you’re, um, lovely, but I don’t think I know you.”

    Huh. Odd. Is this a foreplay thing? “We have an appointment. You booked me two weeks ago, and you gave me this date and this time,” you prompt unsurely.

    Roger’s brow crumples. “An… appointment?”

    You feel your face starting to heat up. You almost ask if you have the right address, but no, you already know that he’s Roger Taylor, he’s the one who booked, so you must have it right. “Yeah,” you say. “You, um…” You lower your voice a touch. “You already paid in advance. This is pretty much a done deal, but I’m just here to fulfil my end of the bargain. And then, of course, you’ll have to pay me the other half.”

    Roger’s starting to look a little pale now, and you’re not quite sure what to do with that. His eyes dart down to your outfit and back up to your face. “Pay you?” he says. “I’ve– what? I’ve paid you? What did I pay you? When?”

    Now you’re both embarrassed, and confused, and well, this isn’t something you’d pictured going wrong.

    You suddenly feel very exposed in your tight dress and heels.

    “Uh.” You scratch behind your ear. “Like, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve booked me, and I’m here. And it wasn’t a small sum of money, so I doubt you’d want to…”

    Roger’s mouth opens, and then closes, and opens again. “Oh, shit, hang on,” he says, his voice flat, “did I… Was this all booked and arranged two weeks ago on the Friday night?”

    “Yes,” you say. “Why?”

    Roger sighs heavily, and rubs his eyes. “Oh, shit,” he moans. “For God’s…” He raises his head, and sighs again. “Look, um, Mandy, there’s been a big misunderstanding. I, um, went through a divorce, er, relatively recently, a few months ago, and I’ve been doing a bit of wallowing, I guess you could say, and my friends tried to cheer me up a fortnight ago on Friday by bringing round a few bottles of very nice whiskey and gin. I don’t remember a lot of that night, but, now that you mention it, I have some vague memory of my friends trying to get me to, you know, ‘move on’, and, um, I think they might have looked up… people online.”

    Your ears are really burning now. “Oh,” you say.

    “That’s what this is, isn’t it?” Roger adds. “You’re a…”

    “Not really,” you blurt. “Kind of. It– oh, man.” You bite your bottom lip, hesitating, not quite sure how much to reveal about the situation. “Okay, I’ll be honest. Yes, I’m… from a website. But I’m not – this isn’t a living, or a side gig, or whatever. Not that it would matter if I was, because there’s nothing wrong with…” You shake your head. Stay on track. “It’s just a one-off. You paid me to… to take my virginity.”

    You swear you can see Roger’s soul leaving his body in that moment. “You– I what?”

    You shrug helplessly.

    Roger takes a step back, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Jesus Christ.”

    “I’m sorry for the confusion,” you say, and your stomach sinks further when a realisation comes to you. “I…” You swallow. Your mouth is dry. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t – The money you gave me. I’ve done this to help pay bills and rent and everything, and it’s already been used. A chunk of it, anyway. I can’t refund you. I’m really sorry.”

    “No, God, don’t apologise,” Roger says. “You weren’t to know.” He shakes his head. “Fucking dickheads, the lot of them.” He looks to you, and warily inspects your face. “How old did you say you were?” His voice is small, like he’s scared of the answer.

    “Twenty,” you reply, and his shoulders sag in relief.

    “Thank God,” he says. “I mean, still, you’re so young, but at least you’re…”

    “An adult?”

    He nods, grimacing sheepishly. “I really am being honest when I say I don’t remember much of that night. My mates aren’t those sorts of people, but, well, who knows what they’d try to pull when they’re pissed.”

    “No, it’s fine,” you say. “I look young for my age. But I am twenty.”

    “No, I believe you,” Roger says quickly. “I’m not… No.”

    You wipe your palms on your dress again. What now? Do you just go home? That wasn’t the cheapest Uber ride you’ve ever had. You were kind of relying on that extra money.

    Roger seems equally at loss. “You– Did you have to travel far?”

    “Not that far,” you say. “Forty minutes-ish.”

    “Fuck,” Roger says. He puts his hands on his hips, and then drops them again. “What time is it? It’s nearly nine, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah, about nine.”

    “It’s late. You should be getting home.”

    Your heart sinks. Wow. Okay. This is really just over like that. “Um, yeah, I guess,” you say. You take half a step back. “I’m really sorry about the– the, um, whole mix-up thing. And sorry about your divorce.”

    Great. Real smooth.

    “Thanks,” Roger says. He hesitates, and you’re about to turn and head back down the driveway, when he says, “How are you getting home? Did you drive?”

    “Uh, no,” you say. “Uber.”

    “Uber? God, no, sod that,” Roger says. “Let me…” He fumbles for something in his back pocket, but comes up empty. “Let me pay for it. I don’t– Can I pay you for it?”

    “It’s all right,” you reassure him. “You’ve already given me– it’s okay.”

    “No, please, I insist,” he says. “Should I– cash? I can give you cash. Or… transfer…” He rolls his eyes at himself, those pretty blue eyes that shouldn’t belong to a man his age, but somehow suit him perfectly. “God,” he mutters. “I usually have things more together than this, I promise. I’ve just been caught beyond off-guard.”

    “Sorry,” you say again.

    “It’s not your fault, really, I don’t– How could I blame you? You had no idea. I am going to murder my friends.” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “Um. Okay. I’ve paid you before, haven’t I, if you got the deposit? How did I do it? I can just do it that way again.”

    “You transferred it to me,” you say. You shift in your heels. Your feet are starting to ache.

    “Let’s do it that way again, then,” Roger says. “I’ll just get my phone, sorry.”

    “It’s okay, really,” you say yet again, stopping him. “Don’t bother. I’ll– It’ll take me two minutes and then I can be on my way home.”

    Roger hovers, and then says, “Can I– Did you want to wait inside? Or out on the steps? Could I get you some water, at least?”

    You hesitate. “Um–”

    “I’m not trying to do anything,” Roger blurts, and then he shakes his head. “Now it sounds like I am trying to do something. I’m not. Really. If you want, you can just wait here and I’ll go inside and leave you alone.”

    You glance at your phone. You haven’t ordered the Uber yet, but you are pretty thirsty. You look back up to Roger. “Well, I already had it in my head that I was coming here to sleep with you, so I’m not really concerned about you trying anything,” you say. “Some water sounds nice, actually.”

    Roger laughs. Like his voice, it’s unexpectedly soft, and it makes you smile.

    “Um. Yes,” he says, glancing at his feet. “Well. Um, come on in, then.”

    You head back up the path, and Roger steps aside to let you in.

    You slip past him. He smells good.

    His house, on the inside, is just as white-picket-fence as it is on the outside. Not the tidiest, but you suppose he wasn’t expecting company.

    He seems to notice the slight mess the same moment you do, and he hurriedly darts forward to tidy up.

    “Sorry,” he says.

    “No, don’t worry about it,” you say.

    He bends down to grab an empty beer bottle from where it sits on the floor next to the couch. Nice ass.

    Not that it matters. You aren’t sleeping with him anymore. But, to be fair, you are only human. Just because you’re no longer ordering doesn’t mean you can’t admire the menu.

    “I, uh, wasn’t expecting any guests, obviously,” Roger adds, half-jokingly.

    You chuckle, and adjust your dress. Roger’s eyes flash down to your hands, then to your chest where you’ve pulled the dress down a little further in your adjustment, and then he quickly looks away, running his hand along his jaw.

    “Uh, um,” he says. “Water? Um– take a seat, by the way. Feel free to sit…” He gestures vaguely around him. “Sit anywhere. Anywhere you like.”

    “Um, okay,” you say, and hesitate, before awkwardly perching on his couch.

    “Sorry, did you say you wanted water?” Roger says.

    “If you wouldn’t mind,” you say.

    “Yeah, of course,” Roger says, and then disappears into the kitchen.

    You breathe in a lungful of air and slowly let it out. Wow. Talk about an unexpected evening.

    You take out your phone and message Justine. boy do I have a story to tell u.

    She’s online, and she replies immediately. fuck what’s happened?? everything alright??

    You bite your lip, considering how to reply. yeah I’m fine. the guy is super easy on the eyes, but there’s been a mix up and basically I am remaining firmly in the virgin zone for the foreseeable future lol.

    You backspace and try again. yeah I’m fine. long story short I’m coming home. tell u about it when I get there.

    is he ugly?? Justine replies, and you can’t help but smile in amusement.

    oh no, that’s not the issue even a little bit, you reply.

    “I’m assuming tap water is fine?” Roger says, reappearing with a glass of water, making you jump slightly and flip your phone face-down on your leg, as if he could somehow see the screen from across the room. “Sorry, I should’ve asked. I don’t really have anything else.”

    “No, no, tap water is fine, thank you,” you say, and he hands the glass to you.

    You take a sip.

    Roger glances away, seemingly looking for something to do or something to say, as if the answer is written in the walls. He chews on his thumbnail.

    Your mind scrambles to find something to say, but it feels like trying to eat soup with a fork.

    “Is everything all right?” Roger asks suddenly, looking to you. “I know this is probably completely inappropriate, but… Well, paying for someone to…”

    Your stomach sinks with embarrassment. “Oh,” you say. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Just – could do with the money.”

    “Of course, yeah,” Roger says hurriedly, nodding. “You’re at uni?”

    “Yeah. And living out of home, so.”

    “Right. Yeah, of course, I should’ve guessed. Sorry, that was…”

    “No, it’s fine,” you say with a reassuring smile. You chuckle. “I’m sorry for disrupting your evening like this.”

    “No, no, it…” Roger smiles, and you feel every trace of oxygen leave your lungs, because wow, he’s attractive. “It’s a welcomed interruption, actually.”

    “It is?”

    “Well, all I had planned was to watch something shit on Netflix and drink beer,” Roger says, screwing up his nose. “Not exactly exciting.”

    “Oh, don’t let me stop you,” you say. “Sounds like they were big plans.”

    Roger laughs, and your heart thuds against your ribcage. “The sort of plans that sound much nicer when you have company, I think.” He pauses. “Not that– not that I’m expecting you to–” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Really, I’m not usually this… awkward.”

    “You don’t have to apologise,” you say, shaking your head.

    “I used to be a real ladies’ man, you know,” Roger says. “Back in the day. Before my wi– my ex-wife. And the kids.”

    “Sure,” you say, drawling sarcastically.

    Roger laughs again, a little surprised, but amused. “I was!” he insists. “I was picking up women left and right.”

    “I believe you,” you say lightly.

    Roger grins, and you have to take a steadying breath. “You’ve got a tongue on you, haven’t you?” he says delightedly.

    “So it’s been said.”

    It comes out more suggestive than you’d intended. Roger takes a moment to drink you in, and then he bites his bottom lip, looking away, one hand sliding into the back pocket of his jeans, the other one slipping under his shirt, massaging his shoulder.

    Your stomach flips and jumps. You take a sip of water.

    “You sure you’ve never been with anyone before?” Roger says.

    You snort. “That’s a pretty rude question, don’t you think?”

    Roger smiles sheepishly. “You’re right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

    You take another sip of water, and then say, “I haven’t slept with anyone, no. I think I’d know if I had.”

    “Right,” Roger says mildly, nodding.

    You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

    “Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”

    “You’re thinking very loudly. Is there something wrong with me not having slept with anyone?”

    “No,” Roger says, his eyes widening. “No, shit, that’s not what I was trying to say. It– you just seem… I’m just surprised. That someone like you…”

    You adjust your dress again. Roger’s eyes drop to your breasts again, and back up to your face. “What do you mean by that?” you ask, trying not to preen.

    Roger ponders over his answer for a while. “You just seem to… know what you want.”

    “Oh, you think so?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says noncommittally.

    His eyes find yours, and they stay there. Your heart is racing in your chest now, making your blood feel warm. You’ve been attracted to plenty of people before, but this is really something else.

    Roger clears his throat, breaking away, and you surreptitiously squeeze your thighs together.

    Your phone buzzes on your thigh. It’s Justine. so he’s hot?

    “Is that your Uber?” Roger asks. If you aren’t mistaken, he sounds almost disappointed.

    Your cheeks grow hot. “Oh, um, I haven’t actually… I forgot to call it.”

    “Oh,” Roger says. A tinge of relief? “Well, no rush.”

    “It’s just my friend checking up on me,” you add.

    “That’s good of them.”

    “Yeah. Well, actually, she was checking up on me before. Now she’s just–” You open and close your mouth a few times, but decide to be honest. “Uh, she’s just, um, asking about you.”

    Roger quirks an eyebrow, and it’s so hot that you have to look away. “About me?”

    Your phone buzzes again. are you on ur way home now?

    “Uh,” you say, and quickly type out, not yet.

    “What have you told her?” Roger asks, playfully curious.

    You put your phone down, and take a breath, smoothing your hands down your legs, thinking carefully of how to answer. “Just that you seem nice.”

    “Nice?” Roger says.

    “And you’re… Well.” You smirk. “I’m sure you’ve seen yourself in the mirror. No point in boosting your ego too much.”

    Roger steps forward, drawn to you by an invisible string. “I don’t think I understand,” he says faux-innocently.

    “I’m sorry, weren’t you just saying a minute ago that you were pulling girls left and right?” you say, cocking your head.

    “Oh, yeah, when I was twenty,” Roger says. “Not talking about now.”

    “Have you tried?”

    Roger pauses, slightly taken aback by this, and his eyes roll to the ceiling as he thinks, blowing hair out of his cheeks. “You may have a point there.”

    “And I suppose that’s why these friends of yours contacted me?”

    “You… may have a point there,” Roger says again.

    You nod to yourself. “I don’t see why they couldn’t have just taken you to a pub and set you up with someone there. It’d have been a lot cheaper.”

    “They’ve, um…” Roger cards his hand through his hair. “They’ve tried that, actually.” He hesitates, and then walks over to you, sitting down on the armchair near you. “They’ve taken me out a couple of times.”

    “And you’ve struck out?” you ask.

    Roger chuckles. “No. I – well, like you said, I suppose I haven’t really tried. I didn’t want to.”

    “Too soon?”

    “No, it’s not that. It’s…” Roger pulls a face. “I don’t know. Haven’t felt like it, really. Maybe it was too soon. Or maybe the thought of having to try to chat someone up just seemed like so much effort.”

    “Surely it wouldn’t be much effort for you.”

    Roger meets your eyes again, and he smiles slowly, running his tongue along his teeth. “Oh yeah?”

    Your phone vibrates. The way Roger’s looking at you makes you wish it was something else vibrating that you could put to good use alone in your room.

    Roger’s eyes flick down to the phone, and back up to your face. “That your friend again?”

    You hesitate, and then flip the phone over. hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

    “Yeah,” you say, and put the phone down beside you.

    “You going to answer it?”

    “In a minute.”

    You smooth your hands down your thighs. Roger watches like a hawk.

    Your hands slide back up your thighs.

    He swallows.

    You smile.

    “You, um, you ever…” Roger tears his eyes away from your thighs to look at your face. “Have– have you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”

    “Yeah,” you say casually. “Not for a long while, though. And nothing too serious. Nothing as full-on as marriage.”

    Roger laughs, but it comes out sounding a bit strangled. “Yeah. That’s all right, though. That doesn’t matter.”

    Your phone buzzes.

    You ignore it.

    “I never got around to… all of that,” you explain. “Y’know. Fucking.”

    Roger’s face goes slack. “Uh–”

    “I wasn’t waiting for anyone special,” you continue. Your blood feels electrified under his gaze. “Just never quite got there.”

    “Never quite–?”

    You hum. “That’s misleading. I’ve made out with plenty of people, but that’s all. Some over-the-clothes action. Basically nothing, really.”

    Roger looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “Uh-huh.”

    “You probably find that hard to imagine,” you say with a wry smile. “Having kids and all. How old were you your first time?”

    Roger blinks, and takes a moment to reply. “Uh, I was sixteen.”

    You laugh. “God, I can’t even picture…” You frown, and shake your head. “It’s hard to picture what it’d be like, you know? The reality of it? You can watch as much porn as you like – and I’ve watched plenty, mind you – but, like, I know that it’s not real. Not realistic, anyway. I’ve spent what feels like ages just trying to picture what is actually is like, but it’s impossible for me to know.”

    “It’s good,” Roger says, and it comes out in a rush, and he looks surprised at himself.

    You feel a thrill go through you. “Good?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says. “Everyone says your first time isn’t good, but that’s only if your partner doesn’t know what they’re doing. And it’s nice when you have an idea of what you’re doing, too, but that comes with time. And if you have a good teacher.” He rakes his hand through his hair again. “But when the chemistry is right, and the mood is right, it’s… good.”

    “That’s descriptive,” you murmur sarcastically.

    Roger huffs a laugh. “What do you want, a detailed explanation? Graphs and illustrations?”

    “A demonstration would be nice.”

    Shit. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. Why the fuck did you say that?

    Your eyes are wide, and you open and close your mouth a few times. “Uh.” Roger looks as surprised as you feel. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Wow. Is– is this part of the…”

    You blink. “Part of the…?”

    “The whole…” He gestures vaguely. “…thing. You being paid to…”

    “Did I just make a complete idiot of myself as part of my attempt to woo you as a kind-of sex worker?” you ask. You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Nope. No. That was all me. Just being a dumbass.” You groan, covering your face. “I’m sorry,” you say from behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing.” This whole night has been nothing but a huge embarrassment. You can’t wait to go home and forget about it, thanks to an unhealthy dose of alcohol.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says.

    You lower your hands. “For what?”

    “For – I don’t know. I just felt I needed to apologise.”

    You snort. “You don’t have to apologise for me very clumsily and awkwardly and horribly trying to flirt with you, Roger.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “You’re probably used to seeing that all the time.”

    “Again, not for a very long time,” Roger says. “But I know what horrible and awkward flirting looks like, and… that wasn’t it.”

    “But clumsy, though, right?” you say, screwing up your nose.

    Roger chuckles. “Maybe. But that’s all right.” He shifts in his seat. “I was just as clumsy.”

    You wave a hand, and reach for your phone. It’s high time you called your Uber. And reply to Justine. “You weren’t flirting with me.”

    You re-read the messages from Justine you’re yet to reply to.

    so hes hot?

    are you on ur way home now?

    hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

    Then the new one, from a few minutes ago: for the love of god can u please reply to me. something. anything. I’ll take a solid thumbs-up.

    So you send a thumbs-up.

    When you look up, Roger is staring at you, and you realise he hasn’t spoken since you did.

    You’ve well and truly crossed a line somewhere. You can’t blame him for wanting you out. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m just – my friend. I’ll get the Uber now. Sorry it’s taken me so long.”

    “Don’t,” Roger says.

    You pause. “Don’t what?”

    “Don’t order the Uber.”

    Your stomach bubbles. “Wh– No?”

    “Not yet, at least,” Roger says. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I wasn’t flirting with you?”

    “Why would you be?” you respond automatically.

    “Why would…” Roger shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

    “Because I’m a random twenty-year-old woman who’s just shown up at your door on a Tuesday night dressed like this talking about how you paid to take my virginity,” you say bluntly. “Which is more than a little off-putting.”

    “Well, all right, I’ll give you that,” Roger says. “But here I am, still trying to clumsily flirt with you nonetheless.”

    You break out into a smile, a bashful one, and duck your head. “Oh.”

    “Oh,” Roger repeats, a touch playfully.

    You glance up at him. He’s smiling at you, pleased with your reaction, and the thought of kissing him flashes through your mind, and you’ve suddenly never wanted anything more. You purse your lips, looking at your hands again, fiddling with your phone, flipping it around and around in your grip.

    “Mandy,” he says gently, and you’re puzzled for a moment before you remember –

    “That’s, um, not my real name,” you tell him with an awkward chuckle. But you really like how he said it all the same.

    Roger looks so embarrassed that you can’t help but laugh. “Here I was, trying to be all suave, and now I look like an idiot,” he says.

    You shake your head. “You don’t. You didn’t know.”

    “I should’ve guessed you weren’t using your real name.”

    “No, it’s fine,” you giggle.

    “Well, am I allowed to know your real name? So I can try again?”

    You hesitate.

    “Unless you don’t want to,” Roger says quickly. “That’s fine. Security, and all. Stranger danger.”

     You laugh again. “Stranger danger? I’m in your house.”

    “I could be a stalker. You don’t know that.”

    Fuck, you’re attracted to him. “Dork,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

    Roger chuckles, his eyes sparkling.

    “It’s [Y/N],” you add.

    “[Y/N],” he repeats, and your breath catches ever so slightly. He pauses, and then comes to sit beside you on the couch, and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he says. “I’m Roger.”

    You giggle, and take his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Roger.”

    He’s so close now. He smells amazing, and his hand is warm, and his eyes are so blue, and his lips–

    You realise you’ve been staring at his mouth, your hand still in his, and you glance back up at his eyes before quickly taking your hand back, looking away.

    You tuck your hair behind your ear, clearing your throat. You’re barely aware of your own body – only his, and how close it is to yours. Like there’s a force between the two of you, connecting you. When he swallows and moves his hand back to his own lap, you can feel it as if it’s your own.

    “Do you, um…” Roger takes a breath in, and you feel your chest, your lungs, buzz. “Tell me about yourself a bit.”

    “Me?” you say, looking to him. Oh, wow, he really is close. Fucking hell, you want him.

    “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “What do you do for fun? Stuff like that?”

    You lick your lips, and his eyes dart to the movement. “Um, well, I…” You absentmindedly adjust your dress, and it catches his eye again. “I’m at uni, in my second year. It’s all right. Pretty stressful, obviously, but I like it well enough. I live with two of my friends. I, um… I like… dogs.”

    Roger laughs.

    This is so stupid, you realise. You both clearly want each other.

    You shake your head. “Stupid,” you mutter.

    Roger frowns. “What’s stupid?”

    “This,” you say. You gesture between the two of you for emphasis. “This.”

    “Oh,” Roger says. He shifts away from you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

    You huff. “You’re not.”

    “Then what–”

    “Kiss me,” you cut in.

    Roger stops. “Kiss you?”

    “Yes,” you say, keeping your gaze steady on his. “You’re too damn difficult to resist. So kiss me.”

    Roger hesitates.

    You raise your eyebrows. “Unless you don’t want to?”

    “No, I – I do,” he says. “I just…”

    “What?”

    “I feel like the circumstances… I don’t want you to think I’m just doing this because I’ve paid you to…”

    “I don’t think that,” you say. “And I don’t want your money; this is way beyond that now. I’m not trying to trick you into sleeping with me so I can force you to pay me. I just know chemistry when I see it.”

    Roger chuckles. “I was right,” he says. “You know exactly what you want.”

    You steel your nerves. “Yeah,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “And I want you.”

    Roger swallows. “But you don’t even know me.”

    “Nope.”

    “And you’re in my house.”

    “Yep.”

    “And I’m so much older than you.”

    “That’s right.”

    “And you’re…”

    “I’m a virgin,” you finish, nodding. “I know. But for the love of God, Roger, if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to scream.”

    Roger exhales, shakes his head minutely, and then says, “God fucking damn it,” and leans in to kiss you.

    You immediately shift to press closer towards him, one hand coming to rest against his chest. He kisses you earnestly, but gently, like he’s nervous. Nervous about making you feel pressured, you can safely assume.

    But that’s not what you’re about. You pull back, and, before he can say anything, you climb on top of him, straddling his waist, and kiss him again, more deeply than before. He breaks away just far enough to whisper, “Holy shit,” and then ducks his head to kiss down your throat. You tilt your head to give him more room, one hand against his chest and the other raking through his hair. His hands, rough and warm, smooth up your thighs, and your breath catches. They stop just under the hem of the dress, and a soft whine slips from your throat.

    Roger moans in response. “Jesus Christ.”

    You reach down and grab at his wrists, urging his hands to go further up the dress. “Touch me,” you pant.

    He draws back, and you look down at him, at his slightly flushed cheeks and his ruffled hair, and you want him naked, right now. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “We can just make out, that’s absolutely fine. Just because of… the whole… arrangement…”

    “Roger,” you say slowly, “I’m only going to say this once, because I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

    He nods, swallowing.

    You cup his face in your hands, boring your eyes into his. “I want you to fuck me. Tonight. Right now.”

    Roger takes a shaky breath. “Are you–”

    “What did I just say?” you cut in. “Not repeating it.”

    Roger smiles, laughing breathlessly. “Bloody hell.”

    You smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

    “Oh, it most certainly is one, believe me.”

     You lean in to kiss him, and his hands, thank the Lord, slide further up your thighs. You start unbuttoning his shirt, blindly, fumbling a little, and your kisses grow more eager.

    You’ve kissed a number of people in your time. Not a whole lot, but a few. And Roger really takes the damn cake.

    When his shirt is fully unbuttoned, untucked from his jeans, you move your lips down his neck, and he moans, letting his head roll back, his hands shifting to grab your ass, pulling you against him. You can feel the tent in his jeans, and, beyond thrilled, you grind against it, loving how a bolt of arousal shoots through you. Roger’s grip on you tightens, and when you nip at his skin, he spits out, “Fuck.”

    You rock your hips against him again, and he laughs again. “God, it’s been too long.”

    You hum, nipping his throat again and soothing it with your tongue. “How long is too long?”

    “Months. Lost count. Ah, fuck.”

    You pull back, giving him a look, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Try twenty years,” you say dryly.

    Roger shakes his head. “Can’t even imagine.” He kisses you, just once, and then murmurs against your lips, “I promise I’ll make this good for you.”

    You shiver. “I’m sure you will.”

    “I mean it.” He kisses you again, and then sits back, his hands sliding back to your thighs and squeezing them gently. “I want this to be good for you. If I’m going to be your first, I want you to enjoy it. So you have to tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, yeah?”

    You nod. “Yeah.”

    “I don’t care what it is we’re doing – you can tell me to stop at literally any point, and I will, no questions asked.”

    You nod. “I know, I know.”

    Roger chuckles. “You just really want to get things going, don’t you?”

    “Yes.” You press your lips to his, and, now that you both know where things lie between you, you’re both eager to get to the next step. The kisses quickly become more feverish, hotter, deeper. Roger’s hands go to the back of your dress, working the zipper down your spine, and you shudder at the feeling of it. When he’s done, you sit back to yank it over your head, dropping it the floor behind you.

    Roger’s eyes drink you in, his mouth hanging open. “Whoa.”

    You flush under his gaze. You know you look good – you’d worn your push-up bra and matching lace underwear for a reason – but it’s still a rush to get a reaction like that.

    “Bedroom?” Roger says, his voice a touch weak, and you nod, leaning in to steal one last kiss before climbing off him, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. He groans slightly as he does so, and you giggle.

    “I know, I know, I’m old,” he says.

    “No, I like it,” you say, tugging him closer to you and hooking a finger of your other hand through a belt loop on his jeans. “Dad noises.”

    Roger shakes his head, his hands coming to rest on your waist, and you lean into the touch. “Don’t say that,” he grumbles. “Makes me feel even older.”

    “You’re not old,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You’re not even forty.”

    Roger laughs. “Ah, yes, a real spring chicken.”

    “Can you stop whining and fuck me already? I’m gonna be forty by the time we get to it.”

    Roger snorts. “Cheeky.” He leans in to kiss you, and you curl your arms around his neck, pressing into him.

    When you break apart, you take Roger’s hand again, and he leads you to his bedroom, both of you stumbling slightly in the dark house. You’re only in your underwear, but you’re still wearing your heels, and you feel like you’re in some kind of Victoria Secret ad.

    Roger keeps glancing back at you, his eyes sweeping your body, and he’s so distracted he almost runs into a wall at one point, and you have to tug on his arm to pull him out of the way, laughing as you do so. He retaliates by pushing you up against the wall and kissing you senseless, his thigh slotted between yours. You’re lightheaded and unbelievably turned on by the time he breaks away again, and it feels like a lifetime before you reach his bedroom. 

    Roger switches on the light.

    The double bed is unmade, but the room itself is fairly tidy, just a pair of shoes and a shirt on the floor. The whole room screams tax-paying adult, and you’re reminded again that the man you’re about to sleep with is, in fact, a proper adult. Not like you, an adult by the loosest terms imaginable, but a fully-grown man with children and a mortgage and a career, probably. A completely different world to yours.

    But none of that will matter when you’re both naked. 

    He closes the door behind him, and then you’re pouncing on him, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and all but tearing his belt off. His hands are tight on your hips, and when you undo his belt and the button and fly on his jeans, he pants, “Bed, bed, go sit on the bed.”

    You do as you’re told, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing one knee over the other, taking the opportunity to quickly tie your hair back out of your face while and Roger fumbles with the rest of his clothes, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks and jeans. You can tell that he would’ve been thin as a twig back in the day, and you’d easily call him slender even now, but his body is soft, the sign of a father who’s spent more time taking care of the kids and having a beer in the evenings to wind down than going to the gym. It suits him, looks good on him. You’re certainly a big fan.

    Soon, he’s down to nothing but his boxer-briefs. His boxer-briefs, which are neon green.

    You break out into a grin, and Roger looks down at them, sighing. “Of all the fucking pairs I could’ve put on today,” he mutters.

    “They’re pretty great,” you say, and you make sure you have Roger’s full attention before you uncross your legs, spreading your knees wide, leaning back on your hands, “but I’m more interested in what’s underneath them.”

    From the look on Roger’s face, you’d guess his legs are about to give out from under him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he huffs, and he hurries over.

    Grinning, you scramble backwards on the bed, lying down, and he crawls after you, over you, and his kiss is bruising.

    Your hands are shaking now – with excitement and with nerves, a lot of nerves – but you ignore that, and worm your fingers inside his underwear, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a tug.

    He jerks, and you have a moment of panic where you think you’ve done the wrong thing, but then he kisses you with more fervour, so you do it again. This time, his hand finds yours, gently guiding you away.

    “Did I do something wrong?” you ask.

    Roger looks confused for a moment, and then says, “God, no. I just don’t want to get too worked up before we get to, y’know, the main event.”

    “Oh,” you say, smiling in relief.

    “You really have no experience at all, do you?” Roger says, sounding almost disbelieving.

    “That’s what I’ve been saying,” you say. “It hasn’t all been some elaborate ruse to get into your pants. Literally all I have is some vague, theoretical ideas on how this works. And I know the mechanics. But that’s it. So you’re gonna have to be patient with me.”

    “That’s fine by me,” Roger says. He chuckles. “It’ll make everything I do seem much more magical than it really is.”

    “Sure,” you say mock-condescendingly.

    Roger laughs, and he looks so wonderful when he’s laughing that you can’t help but smile, your hand reaching up to comb through his hair.

    He notices the look in your eye, your smile, and he smiles back in a way that makes your stomach squirm and your fingers and toes tingle.

    He kisses you, and the squirming in your stomach grows into full-blown butterflies, big Amazonian ones, and you begin to have an inkling that, oh no, this could be bad. This could be very bad indeed.

    It’s probably nothing. He’s just hot, and nice, and funny, so you’re excited to have sex with him. That’s it. You’re a duckling that’s imprinted on its mother. Except you’re a human, and Roger’s the first person you’re having sex with, not your mother.

    Not the best analogy you’ve come up with. You can’t blame yourself, though – the way Roger’s kissing you is turning your brain into mush.

    He presses a kiss to just under your ear, and then kisses all the way down your throat, and you tilt your head back. “Feels so good,” you murmur.

    You can feel Roger smile against your skin.

    He keeps going, kissing the hollow at the base of your throat, further down still, and you bite your bottom lip. He presses a kiss to the top of your right breast, and then looks up at you. “Can I take your bra off?”

    You nod eagerly, and he moves back so you can sit up. “Oh, I’ve still got my shoes on,” you said.

    “I’ve noticed,” Roger says, and you chuckle.

    “As super sexy as they are, I do wanna take them off,” you say.

    Roger ducks forward to drop a kiss to your neck, and the butterflies are back, and you can feel your cheeks going pink. You want to hide your face, but Roger’s right there, and you can’t look away from his eyes. “How about you take your bra off,” he says, “and I’ll get your shoes.”

    “You don’t have to take my shoes off for me,” you say.

    “Well, I want to,” he says simply, and shuffles down, climbing off the bed. He gestures for you to shift forward, and you do, until your feet are hanging off the bed, your knees hooked over the edge. Roger gets onto his knees – he makes a dad noise as he does so, and you giggle again – and fiddles with the buckle on one of your shoes.

     You take a moment to watch him, biting your lip, smiling, and then reach behind you and unhook your bra, slipping it from your shoulders.

    He doesn’t look up right away, and you’re thankful for a moment to get your head around the fact that you’ve never been completely topless in front of anyone before. You’re self-conscious about the grooves the bra has dug into your skin, about the way your breasts look without the aid of the push-up, and you almost go to cross your arms over yourself, but then Roger glances up, and his hands go still. “Bloody hell,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”

    You tuck your hair behind your ear. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice, unsure how else to respond.

    Roger shakes his head, and focuses back on the shoe, making quick work of it and easing it off your foot, setting it down beside him. He moves onto the other shoe. “Talk about winning the fuckin’ lottery,” he says.

    “I could say the same,” you say.

    Roger stops again, looking to you, and then smiles, looking back to the shoe. His ears have gone red.

    He takes the second shoe off and places it beside the first, then presses light kisses to the inside of your knee. He moves further up your leg, up your thigh, and you realise you’re holding your breath. His arms are curled around underneath your legs.

    Roger looks up at you, his thick eyelashes making him look almost angelic. “Is this all right?” he says. “If I…?”

    He’s asking if he can eat you out. Oh, God, he’s asking if he can eat you out. He wants to put his mouth and tongue there, and maybe his fingers, too, and no one’s ever done that before.

    You nod eagerly. Maybe a little too eagerly, as Roger laughs.

    You feel your stomach cave in on itself in embarrassment. “Actually, no thanks,” you say, trying to pull your legs back. “Changed my mind.”

    “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” Roger says, still chuckling. He coaxes your legs back to where they were, and kisses your thigh. “It was just the look on your face.”

    “You’re doing a terrible job of wooing me,” you say, aiming for resolute and chastising, but it comes out sounding more weedy and humiliated.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says again, and his hands stroke your legs soothingly. “I am. I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed.” He smiles, a glint in his eye, and you’re momentarily left breathless. “Can I… make it up to you?”

    You can’t help but smile back, rolling your eyes. “Wow. Cheesy.”

    “Thank you,” Roger says. “I’m going to be honest, as fun as this banter is, my knees aren’t going to last forever.”

    You splutter a laugh. “Yes, yes, okay, yes please.”

    Roger surges up off the floor to press a firm kiss to your lips, and you take a moment to wonder just how dodgy his knees really are if he can do something like that, or whether he was just looking for a convenient segue into getting your underwear off. You’re not fussed either way.

    Roger kisses your collarbone, and then pulls back, hooking his fingers into your underwear. “Lift your hips up for me, love?”

    The pet name makes heat pool between your legs. Oh, Jesus.

    “Mm-hm,” you say, hoping it sounds more nonchalant to him than it does to your own ears, and lie back to lift your hips, and he slides your underwear down your legs and drops them near your shoes.

    You expect him to go back to his knees straight away, but he holds himself above you, kissing you, deep and slow, making you whimper into his mouth. One hand holds himself up, and the other one massages your hip, his thumb kneading your skin. Relaxing you, you realise. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, and you’re only partially aware when Roger’s hand moves from your hip to your thigh, brushing over your skin.

    You’re extremely aware, however, when his fingers stroke through your folds for the first time.

    Despite yourself, you jump, and Roger murmurs, “Sorry,” but you shake your head to dismiss his concerns, and pull him in again.

    For a few moments it’s strange, feeling someone’s else hand there, and you’re very conscious of how wet you are, and you wonder if it’s something you should be embarrassed about, but then Roger circles your clit, and suddenly all your worries seem very far away.

    It feels… good. Really fucking good. Roger’s fingers are rougher than yours, but they’re clearly experienced in how they move.

    You push your hips up against Roger’s hand, wanting more, and Roger complies, his fingers moving just a touch more roughly, and he ducks his head to nuzzle at your throat, kissing it, nipping lightly.

    “Oh, God,” you moan to the ceiling, overwhelmed already, and you almost laugh at how surprised you sound. Your hand grips Roger’s hair, and you hope it’s not too hard, but you couldn’t let go if you tried.

    Then Roger’s hand is gone, and you let out a choked sound at the sudden stop. You try to gather your thoughts to ask why, but then Roger is kissing down your body. Oh, man, you think, unable to conjure up anything else, and Roger chuckles, and you realise you said it out loud, but you don’t have time to be embarrassed, as Roger takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his teeth tugging at it, and you gasp.

    “I’ve never… That’s new,” you say weakly, hissing when Roger runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple.

    Roger pulls off to ask, “Do you like it?”

    “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

    “Good.” He goes back to his task, and you arch off the bed slightly.

    “So good,” you breathe. Roger switches to the other nipple, and you moan appreciatively.

    Eventually, both to your dismay and your excitement, he draws away, and presses a single kiss to the space between your breasts. “You’re fucking stunning,” he says, and then he moves back to climb off the bed, setting himself between your thighs.

    You struggle to wrap your head around it. How he could be making you feel this good, and then still compliment you, as if you’ve done anything to deserve it?

    Roger doesn’t waste time talking now. He kisses the inside of your thigh, and then he dives straight in, his tongue nudging your clit as it pushes through your folds. You suck in a sharp gasp, your hand gripping his hair tightly. Your other hand flails, grappling at the sheets as he starts to find a rhythm. You wind up pressing the back of it to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds you’re making, trying to gather some sort of control, because right now you feel like you’re falling head-first off a cliff, and Roger has complete power over how you land.

    He does something with his mouth – you couldn’t tell for the life of you what it is – and your hips buck against your will. “Sorry,” you blurt out, and it comes out broken and breathless.

    Roger just adjusts one of his arms, bracing it across your hips, holding you down, and you moan. His other hand joins his mouth, sliding a finger into you. “Oh, fuck,” you whisper, and then your hand returns to its position, keeping you somewhat quieter.

    It doesn’t take long before Roger’s working in a second finger, pumping them in and out of you, and the sound of it is so obscene that it makes your face go bright red. You’re climbing towards an orgasm, frighteningly quickly, and when a third finger squeezes in beside the first two, you very nearly come, but the sting of the stretch is enough to keep it at bay.

    But then your body relaxes around the three fingers, and Roger crooks them just so and sucks on your clit, and you move your hand away from your mouth to say in a rush, “I’m– I’m so close, I’m gonna come, fuck, ah, shit,” and then–

    Then Roger is gone, his fingers and mouth are gone, and you’re left teetering on the brink of an orgasm, feeling like the air has been punched out of you.

    “Wh– Roger?” you say, your head a mess. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see Roger still between your legs, but instead he’s massaging your thighs with his thumbs, dropping light kisses to your soft skin.

    He smiles up at you, his nose and chin glistening. “Thought we could try something.”

    You shake your head to try to clear it. “But I was just about to…”

    You can still feel the urge. Another minute, and you’ll be there. But the longer you wait, the more the feeling fades. It makes you want to punch a wall.

    Roger hums. “I know. That’s the point.”

    You frown, trying to wrap your head around it. “You… don’t want me to?”

    “Not yet.”

    It finally clicks. “You’re gonna do that to me a couple more times before you make me come, aren’t you?”

    Roger’s smile widens into a grin. “That’s the plan. If you’re on board.”

    “I’m on board,” you say. “As long as when I do come, it blows my fucking mind.”

    “That’s really the point of it, love.” Roger keeps eye contact with you as he leans forward to press a kiss to your core, and you shudder. “And move your hand away from your mouth. You don’t have to be quiet. The more sounds you make, the better.”

    “When am I gonna get my hands on you?” you ask. “I’ve barely even touched your dick yet.”

    Roger huffs a laugh, and you can feel his breath against you. “We’re getting there,” he says easily. “Good things come to those who wait.”

    “Ugh, that’s such a dad thing to say,” you bemoan, lying back down.

    Roger laughs again, and then his mouth and hands return to where you so desperately need them. You suck in air through your teeth. “Fuck, Roger.”

    Roger moans, and you jerk at the sensation.

    He brings you to the edge once more, and, even though you don’t tell him when you’re about to come, he knows, and leaves you hanging once again. So close, so close, but not close enough.

    You feel like crying. Or kicking him in the face.

    You moan helplessly, slinging an arm over your eyes, your legs trembling as Roger smiles against your thigh – you can feel it. A smug smile that makes your blood boil and your core throb even more than it already is.

    Then his fingers push into you for a third time, and his tongue licks through you, but this time it’s slow, painfully slow, not enough to make you come but enough to keep your head lost in the clouds, enough to make your stomach clench and twist, desperately searching for something. It’s enough to make you grind your teeth together. “God, fuck, I need to come,” you sob against the palm of your hand, your thighs trying to clench around Roger’s ears, but his arm is in the way, keeping your hips still.

    His tongue drags against your clit, steady and unhurried, and the gasping whine that rips itself from your throat is piercing to your ears. Not even your hand could muffle it.

    “There we go,” Roger says, and does it again.

    You squirm. “Roger, fuck, please, I wanna come so bad.”

    Roger’s fingers still move in and out of you at a leisurely pace, but he uses his mouth to say, “You wanna come?”

    “Yes,” you say miserably. “Please, I need to.”

    His thumb presses against your clit, and you bite your bottom lip, your body twisting.

    “Christ,” Roger breathes. “That’s a fucking sight.”

    “Fuck me,” you beg. “Anything, just please.”

    Roger takes his hand away, standing and wiping his face on the back of his hand, and you swear. He kicks off his boxer-briefs. His cock is hard and red, swollen, leaking. You sit up and zero in on it like it’s a four-course meal and you haven’t eaten in days. You scramble off the bed, dropping to your knees in front of him.

    “Fucking hell,” he says, clearly not expecting you to do that.

    “Can I suck you off?” you ask desperately, resisting the urge to just shove your mouth around his dick without further preamble. “I’ll do a good job, I promise. Just tell me what to do. I’m a fast learner.” You curl your fist around him, sucking the head into your mouth.

    Roger makes a strangled sound, his hips bucking slightly. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says quickly, guiding your head away with a hand on your head.

     You pull back, but keep your hand where it is. “Just fuck my mouth,” you say, gazing up at him. “I dunno how that works, but I can keep it open.” You do so, sticking your tongue out, silently begging with your eyes.

    Roger chuckles softly to himself, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna make me come just from running your mouth like that.”

    You open your mouth wider.

    “Or from just doing that,” Roger says. He pries your hand away from his dick, using it to pull you to your feet.

    He kisses you, a hungry kiss, a you’re doing so well kiss, and it makes you preen. “But I want to fuck you,” he says. “I’ve had my dick sucked before; you’ve never been fucked.”

    “I’ve never sucked a dick before, either, though,” you reason.

    “Well, hit me up next time you’re in the neighbourhood,” Roger jokes. Before you can reply, he kisses you again, and you drink him in greedily, palming at his cock until his kisses grow sloppy, messy, more teeth and tongue, and he has to snatch your wrist. “Let me get inside you first,” he growls. “Good God.”

    “I like it when you’re bossy,” you say, teasingly.

    Roger hums, his eyes dark. “You need that attitude fucked right out of you.”

    “Do it,” you say fervently, grinning in delight when he grabs your other wrist as well to stop you from touching him. “Do it, do it, do it. Fuck it right out me. I need it. Never had anyone try to fuck anything out of me before.”

    Roger shudders. “Jesus.”

    You half-heartedly try to tug your wrists back, but he holds them tightly. “Fuck me till I can’t walk,” you say. “Come on.”

    Roger takes a breath, and then lets your wrists go. “Bed. Now.”

    You scramble to obey, clenching your thighs together at the sight of Roger. He looks wrecked already, his hair a mess, his skin flushed, his eyes glassy, his lips red. He goes to his bedside table and digs out a bottle of lube and some condoms. “Maybe should check the date on these,” he mutters to himself, and squints at the packets in his hands. After a few moments of peering at them, he sighs in frustration, and reaches for the pair of glasses on the table that you hadn’t noticed before. He slips them on, and then nods at the packets. “They’re fine.”

    He goes to take the glasses off, but you say, “Wait, show me.”

    He turns to you. “Show you what?”

    Fuck, he looks gorgeous in those glasses. They’re large, round ones, with delicate silver frames, and you make a soft sound. “Oh, wow.”

    “I know, they’re horrendous,” Roger says, taking off the glasses and setting them down. “My eyesight’s always been shite, but I can’t stand wearing the bloody things.”

    “No, you look great,” you say. “So great, in fact, that I need you to get the condom on so you can fuck me literally right now.”

    Roger raises his eyebrows. “You what?”

    “I’m dying here, Roger,” you say loudly, smacking the bed beside you. “You look hot as fuck in those glasses, and I’m so insanely horny that I’m about to explode. I need your dick in me right now.”

    Roger grins, and rips open the condom packet. “All right. Jeez.”

    “Let me do it,” you say, crawling over to him and taking the condom from him.

    “You’ve ever done it before?” he asks.

    “Not since we had to at school when I was, like, fifteen.” You do it carefully, to the best of your memory. Your mouth waters being so close to his cock. “Is this right?”

    “Yeah, perfect,” Roger says. “You look incredible, by the way.”

    You look up at Roger, and the butterflies return. You’re left momentarily speechless, but it doesn’t matter, because Roger leans down and kisses you. His hand rests against your collarbones, and you get another idea in your head. You rise up into a kneel, keeping his lips on yours, and then you take his hand, pressing it against your throat: a silent invitation.

    Roger moans into your mouth, and applies some pressure, just a bit, testing the waters.

    It makes your core ache, and you kiss him harder, so he presses harder in return. His palm is warm against your throat, and you keep one hand loosely around his wrist, the other hand in his hair, as it is wont to do.

    You end up lying back on the bed, Roger pressing his hand against your throat as you gasp and squirm.

    “You like this, don’t you?” Roger says, fingers on his other hand dipping into your folds. “Fuck, feel how wet you are.”

    You nod desperately. Your mouth is hanging open, and your head is starting to swim.

    “Is that all for me, love?”

    You whimper, nodding again. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

    Roger lets go of your throat, and you gasp, your eyes wide. “More,” you say immediately. “More. Fuck me like that.”

    Roger smiles, keeping his palm against your throat, but brushes his thumb across your skin. His other hand curls around your knee. “Your enthusiasm is… mind-blowing,” he says with a chuckle, “but just take a moment, yeah? You’re all over the shop. Slow down a bit.”

    “I don’t wanna slow down,” you protest, grabbing onto his forearm.

   ��“We’ve got time, love. It doesn’t have to be over so quickly.”

    “You can’t tease me like that, almost make me come, like, three times, and then tell me to slow down,” you say. “I need you, Roger. Christ, I need you. Show me what it’s like, show me how good my first time can be.”

    Roger’s pupils are blown wide, and he lets out a shaky breath. He swallows. “Spread your legs.”

    You grin, and do so. Roger lets go of your throat and leans over you on all fours to kiss you briefly. “I’m not choking you while I fuck you,” he says. “I want you to feel all of it, not have your head somewhere else.”

    You nod vigorously.

    Roger reaches for the lube. You hold out your hand, and he raises an eyebrow at you, but pours some into your hand. You reach forward and slide your fist up and down his cock, spreading the lube. He groans and shudders, and then he says, “That’s enough, that’s enough, I want to fuck you.”

    You take your hand away, wiping the lube on the sheets, Roger surges forward to capture your lips with his, and you feel the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. A shot of adrenaline explodes within you.

    “Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Roger says, and you nod.

    Then, slowly, he pushes into you, just an inch or two. You gasp at the stretch, gripping onto his arms, your mouth wide.

    Roger stills, and nuzzles at your throat. “You okay?”

    “Mm-hm,” you say, biting your lip. “Keep… Keep going.”

    He does, rocking in shallowly, just going a little further each time. He’s panting against your neck, and you can feel your sweat pricking your skin. You can’t help but admire Roger’s back, the way the muscles move.

    It feels good. Once you get over the initial shock to the system of having something that size inside you, you realise why you were so excited to get to this in the first place.

    “I’m good,” you say, nails absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. “It– It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

    “You sure?” Roger asks, kissing your neck softly.

    You can’t help but laugh. “Roger, for the love of all things holy, fuck me.”

    He doesn’t need another invitation. He slams into you, and your eyes go wide, a tiny sound of surprise leaping out of you.

    “Sorry,” Roger says, raising his head to kiss you in apology.

    “Don’t fucking apologise, it feels good,” you say back. “Come on, come on.”

    Roger laughs, and kisses you. You can feel his laughter against your lips, feel the way his smile changes the shape of his mouth, and that dangerously warm feeling in the pit of your stomach returns.

    You could get used to this. Get used to Roger laughing against your lips as he’s buried inside you. Get used to teasing him, to turning him on, to rolling around in his bed.

    As soon as the thoughts creep into your mind, you banish them. That’s not happening, you tell yourself harshly. This is a one-and-done deal. You can’t develop feelings for a man you’ve only met once. A man who is, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, sixteen years older than you.

    Then Roger pulls out halfway and drives back into you, and all you can think about is his dick.

    Your hand goes back to your mouth, just like before, keeping yourself quiet as you moan and whimper. Your ankles hook over the small of Roger’s back.

    But then Roger pauses, sitting up, and he unwraps your legs from around him and pushes one of your knees flat on the bed, keeping you spread out wide. “Hands away from your mouth, love,” he says. “Let me hear you. It’s okay, you can let go.”

    Your face burns, and you cover it with both of your hands. It’s too big of an ask. You’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Roger…”

    “[Y/N].”

    You lower your hands. He’s watching you, his blue eyes burning with desire, but they’re soft, too. Understanding.

    “Keep your eyes on me,” he says. “Hold onto the sheets, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

    You nod, and, with no small amount of effort, let your arms go by your sides, your fists wrapping in the sheets.

    Roger smiles. “You’re amazing.”

    You turn your head away, overwhelmed.

    “Eyes on me. Hey.”

    You look back at him. Exposed. You’re exposed, in every sense of the word.

    Roger braces himself on the bed beside your ribs, and, keeping one hand on your knee, holding it down, he starts fucking into you again, hard and deep.

    The sound you make could best be described as a mewl, and it’s a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. Your hands tighten in the sheets, fighting the urge to cover your face again. Roger’s eyes are still on yours, and it’s too much, you want to look away, but you can’t.

    “So good for me,” Roger pants. “Fuck. God, you’re incredible.”

    You whine. “Roger.”

    “That’s it, love. Say my name.”

    He thrusts into you at just the right angle, making your back arch. “Roger.”

    Roger groans, and he lets go of your knee to circle his fingers around your clit. You gasp, your eyes finally breaking away from his to look to the ceiling, feeling yourself climbing rapidly for the fourth time that night.

    “Let me come, let me come, please,” you beg, your arms straining as your fists pull on the sheets.

    Roger leans forward again to kiss you, a mess of heavy breathing and tongues and lips brushing. You let go of the sheets to clutch onto him, pawing at his shoulders and back and hips, unable to settle on where you want to hold him.

    One hand inevitably slides into his hair, and you grip onto it, tugging it hard. Roger’s rhythm stutters, and he groans out your name.

    His fingers feel so fucking good, and, doubled with the way he’s stretched you out, tripled with how he edged you before, you just know how hard you’re going to come. You can feel it building deeper within you than you’ve ever felt before, like an impending tsunami.

    Roger readjusts, sitting back again, his brow furrowed as he searches for just the right spot to hit you.

    When he does, you cry out. “Right there, right there, fuck.”

    Your hands scrabble for purchase, and one finds your own hair, burying itself, and you don’t pull, but you keep a firm grip on it, the slight pain being the only thing keeping you from losing yourself entirely. Your other hand finds the same spot as before in the sheets, and you sob, screwing your eyes shut.

    “You close?” Roger asks, and you nod.

    “Say it out loud, love.”

    “Yes, I’m so close, I’m so close,” you gasp. You’re almost there, you can feel it, only inches away, moments away.

    “Open your eyes, come on.”

    You do, and meet his gaze. “Roger,” you whimper.

    “You gonna come for me?”

    “Y-yeah.”

    “I wanna hear it, yeah? Wanna see you. See you come undone on my cock.”

    And that’s the final nail in the coffin. You orgasm pulses through you, so hard that you convulse, and you wail, blurting out Roger’s name, clenching down on him. Your blood roars in your ears, and you’ve never come so hard in your life.

    Roger moans out, “Fuck,” and then pumps once, twice more, and then comes, groaning your name, a shudder ripping through him.

    When he comes back to himself, blinking his big blue eyes at you, you can’t help but think he looks otherworldly. His face, pink, shines with sweat, as does his whole body. Locks of hair stick to his forehead, his temples. His mouth hangs open, and his chest heaves, and maybe it’s the ten-out-of-ten orgasm you just had, but in that moment, you kinda want to marry him.

    He takes the hand you’ve tangled in the sheets, and presses a kiss to your wrist. Your heart just about explodes. “You all right?”

    You splutter. “All right? The fuck’s that meant to mean?”

    Roger smiles, massaging the palm of your hand with his thumb. “I mean, are you hurting anywhere?”

    My heart hurts from you being all hot and perfect and stupidly romantic, you think. “No,” you say. “I’m just fine.”

    He pulls out of you, carefully, and it does nothing but reignite a spark of arousal within you. Then he collapses onto the bed beside you with an unmistakable dad noise, and takes off the spent condom, tying it off and tossing it into the rubbish bin beside his bed. When that’s done, he wastes no time in rolling onto his side and pulling you in for a kiss. You hum happily, shifting closer to him, not even caring about the sweat and how wet you are all over your inner thighs.

    When he breaks away, he says, “So. How do you feel?”

    “Like I just had the biggest orgasm of my life,” you say.

    Roger chuckles. “I meant now that you’re, y’know…”

    It clicks. “Now I’ve lost my virginity?” you say playfully. “Had my sexual debut? I’ve become a woman?”

    “Not that any of it matters, of course,” Roger adds. “But it’s still… It can be a big thing.”

    You give him a soft kiss. “Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” you say. “Virginity is nothing but a social construct and all of that.”

    “Of course,” Roger reiterates.

    “But I feel… happy.” You hope your grin isn’t as cheesy as it feels. “It’s nice to not have to… worry about it anymore, I suppose? I don’t know if I was really worrying about it before, but it… I don’t know.” You shrug. “I just had a really good time. That’s all that matters.”

    “Good.” Roger’s hand goes to your hip, squeezing it. “I’m glad.”

    “Did…” You lick your lips. “Did you have a good time?”

    “Did I have a good time?” Roger repeats, almost aghast. “Are you joking?”

    “Even though I had no idea what I was doing?”

    “You’re a natural.”

    You laugh. Your stomach squirms – both because of those ridiculous maybe-almost-could-be feelings, and because, even though you know in your mind that the whole sex part of the evening is over, your body certainly isn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.

    Your thighs clench together, but you do your best to hide how it feels. You don’t want to be greedy.

    Roger feels your thighs move under his hand, though, and he looks to you questioningly. “Are you still–”

    “No, no, I’m fine,” you say lightly, shaking your head. “I was just moving around.”

    Roger pauses, and then says, “All right.” He kisses you, and then takes a moment to gather his energy before he sits up. “I’ll get us some water.” He turns to you, pointing a finger at you, as if something just occurred to him. “You should go pee.”

    Your eyes widen, and you nod. “Oh, yes, good thinking.”

    “Bathroom’s just there,” he says, gesturing across the room at the closed door.

    “You have an en suite?”

    “Well, yeah. Much easier when there’s kids around.” His face falls a little. “Not that I’ve had the kids here very often recently, but uh…”

    “I’m sorry,” you say.

    He shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s fine. Great way to bring down the mood, eh?” He leans down again to kiss you, and then stands up, stretching. “Be back in a mo’.”

    You watch him, your gaze hawk-like, as he pulls on his neon-green underwear and disappears out the door, raking his hand through his hair as he goes.

    Your thighs clench together again, and you whimper.

    You try to push it aside, and slide off the bed to go the bathroom, pulling on your underwear as you go. You don’t exactly feel like putting your push-up bra back on, but you don’t want to just lounge around completely naked. Would it be too presumptuous to put on Roger’s shirt?

    You bite your lip, considering, and then decide to just bite the bullet, slipping it on and buttoning it up. It’s comfy, and smells like him; you understand why women in movies do it now. You do have to call bullshit on wearing a man’s shirt like a short, cute dress though – it’s more just like a long shirt, and you’re glad you’ve chosen to put on underwear.

    It feels odd to pee in a stranger’s house – even odder that it’s an en suite – but you’re thankful that you get a moment to properly gather yourself in private, instead of while being surrounded by the smell of sex.

    It’s when you’re washing your hands that you finally get a look at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth drops open in horror.

    You look like a fucking mess. Your foundation is patchy where you get oily and where you’ve sweated it off, and there’s a slight ring of smudged mascara under your eyes – honestly, you’re thankful that it’s not worse, and that your setting spray did at least something. Your hair, though, is the worst of it all. You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.

    “Oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. What can you do? You don’t have any make-up with you to try to fix the problems, but you can’t exactly take it off, either. You have no way to fix your hair. You untie it from the ponytail it was in and try to smooth it out, but it doesn’t really do much, so you tie it back up again, but it’s a shitty ponytail, so you untie it and try again. Then you try a third time, and give up, settling on the disaster that it is, and grab a tissue, blotting at your make-up.

    You sigh, staring at your reflection. Well, fuck. What the fuck are you meant to do? How the hell can you go back into the bedroom, knowing you look like this?

    “[Y/N]?” Roger calls. “You all right in there, love?”

    You shiver. God, the way he says the word ‘love’. The way he says your name.

    You clear your throat. “Um, yeah, I’m– I’m fine. Just…” You can’t say you’re still peeing. Oh, fuck, what if he thinks you’re taking a shit or something? “I’m just fixing up my make-up.”

    “I think there might still be some make-up wipes in a drawer somewhere, if you want to have a look,” Roger says. “Maybe they’re no good anymore, I’m not sure.”

    You have a dig around, and find a packet. It’s already been opened, quite a while ago by the looks of it. Must be Roger’s ex-wife’s.

    The thought of that sits weirdly with you, but you’re not quite sure why. Almost like you feel like you’re intruding, maybe. You certainly don’t feel like you belong here, in this bougie, nice house.

    You sigh again, and pull out a handful of make-up wipes, seeing if there’s any that still hold any moisture. One in the middle has a little bit, so you carefully run it under your eyes, and lightly tap it over your forehead and down your neck to soothe your skin, fixing up any problem areas as best you can without it being too obvious that you’ve just wiped off the make-up.

    The end result is fine. Not good, and certainly not great, but… yeah. Fine.

    You throw the make-up wipes into the bin, take a deep breath, and exit the bathroom.

    Roger’s on his phone, and he looks up when he hears the door open. His face goes slack when he sees you. “You’re wearing my shirt?”

    “Isn’t that what girls are meant to do after sex?” you joke.

    “I just haven’t seen, um, anyone do that in… in a long time,” he says, somewhat stilted, and he glances down at his hands. He quickly turns his eyes back to you. “It looks good. Really good.”

    “Thank you,” you say, and pad over to the bedside table near him, where he has two glasses of water waiting. “Which one’s mine?”

    “On the left.” Roger sets his phone down and watches you as you take a sip of water.

    He’s close to you, and, like before you kissed for the first time, you’re hyperaware of every movement. But he barely moves, just waits for you.

    When you put the water down, you hesitate. You want to climb on top of him, kiss him, feeling his arms around you again, but is that too much? Does he want you to go? Are you overstaying your welcome?

    “You all right?” he asks gently.

    You nod. “Um, yeah,” you say, and take a step back. “You probably, um, have work or something tomorrow, so I should go.”

    You don’t miss the way Roger’s face falls a bit. “Oh, you want to go?”

    No. “Well, it– I don’t want to impose…”

    “If you want to go, then I’ll order an Uber for you,” Roger says. “But don’t feel like you have to go if you don’t want to.”

    The Amazonian butterflies are back yet again. “I…”

    “Because – and correct me if I’m wrong,” Roger says, reaching out and tugging on his shirt, pulling you closer, and you go without any resistance, “but I think you were telling a bit of a fib before, when you said you were… what did you say? Just moving around?”

    You press your lips together as Roger guides you between his legs, and he tilts his head back to gaze up at you. He smiles at the look on your face. “Am I right?”

    You can feel your face heating up again. “No,” you mumble unconvincingly, hiding your smile behind your hand.

    “No hands over mouths,” Roger murmurs, reaching up and taking yours. “You don’t have to hide.”

    Fuck. Oh, fuck. His voice sounds like a warm fireplace feels, and you barely even know him, but you’ve never felt safer, more comfortable, around a man. You can’t pretend now – you’re really starting to like him.

    Roger raises his eyebrows at you, just a touch, searching your face. “So? Am I right?”

    “It’s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m fine, really. You’ve done plenty, I… I can’t ask for more.”

    Roger hums, and presses a kiss to your palm before letting your hand go. “All right, okay,” he says. “I was wrong, I see. Can I at least tell you what I’d do to you if I had been right?”

    You breathe in shakily, and nod once.

    The corner of Roger’s mouth quirks up. “Well,” he says slowly, “first I’d kiss you, of course. And, as hot as you look wearing nothing but my shirt and your knickers, I’d undress you again. Get you lying down on your back, all spread out for me. I’d kiss you some more. Then I think I’d choke you, because you seem to like that a lot, yeah?”

    You nod, hypnotised.

    Roger nods as well. “Right. And then, while I was holding you down by your throat–”

    You gulp.

    “–I’d get my other hand, and I’d–”

    “Okay, yes, you were right,” you blurt out, and grab his face, ducking down to kiss him desperately. He kisses you with just as much hunger, and nudges you a few steps back, giving him enough room so he can stand up and start unbuttoning the shirt. As soon as he’s done, your shrug it from your shoulders, and Roger pulls you closer by your ass. One hand moves to cup your jaw, his tongue pressing against yours. It doesn’t take long before the hand shifts to your throat, and you whimper softly, urging him to tighten his grip.

    He does, and the feeling of it goes straight to your core. Your hands clutch at him frantically.

    He lets go of your throat, and you suck in a gasp, then latch onto his neck, kissing and nipping and sucking at his skin, licking off the salty traces of sweat.

    “Careful, love, careful,” he says shakily. “I can’t turn up to work looking like I’ve been attacked by a vacuum.”

    You huff, but soften your kisses. He moans under his breath, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything hotter.

    Soon, you break away, and crawl back onto the bed, and he follows you, positioning himself on all fours above you to kiss you deeply, his knee slotting into between your thighs. He presses it against your core, and you instinctively grind against it, shuddering when it fires an electric shock of arousal through your system. Roger shifts, readjusting his balance so he can bring his hand back to your throat, and you welcome it. You grind against his leg again.

    It’s when you have to stop kissing him, your brain going into overdrive trying to force you to focus on breathing, you have to breathe, that Roger sits back, moving his leg out of the way and replacing it with his other hand.

    “Fuck, Roger,” you gasp, twitching under his grip, your hands vice-like on his forearm. Your eyes slide closed, revelling in the way your head swims, the way your body fights to suck as much oxygen as it can into your lungs. You’re still so wet from before, still so stretched out, that Roger slides two fingers into you at the same time with ease, and you let out a stuttering moan, bucking your hips into his hand. His fingers swirl around your clit, hitting it in just the right way, and within minutes you’re almost there.

    “Most people think the best part about getting choked is the actual ‘getting choked’ part,” Roger says out of the blue, and you frown, trying to follow, opening your eyes.

    “Hear me out,” Roger says casually, pushing his fingers back into you and flicking your clit with his thumb, and you whine. “Are you close, love?”

    You nod.

    Roger hums. “You look so good like this. Does it feel good?”

    You nod again. “Mm-hm.”

    “Yeah, looks like it does. Looks like you enjoy it.”

    “Ah, Roger, please.”

    “It’s all right, love, I’ve got you.” Roger’s fingers quicken their pace, and you make a sound, squirming.

    “As I was saying,” Roger continues, “people think the best part of getting choked is actually getting choked. But it’s not. The best part of it is actually being let go. Do you want to see?”

    You nod, barely even listening to what he’s saying. You’re too close to coming to pay attention.

    And then Roger lets go of your throat at the same time he brushes your clit, and a rush of oxygen flows into your lungs, a rush of blood flows back to your head, and your orgasm slams into you, and the world seems so much brighter in that moment. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you gasp, your back arching, your eyes wide.

    It feels like it goes on for a lifetime, although perhaps that’s just your mind trying to sort itself out. When you do finally start to come down from your high, you realise you’re shaking, and Roger is grinning at you. You blink at him owlishly.

    “Wh– Huh?” you breathe, your heart racing, and Roger laughs.

    “So you’re alive, then,” he teases, and leans down to kiss you.

    You grab onto him, kissing him soundly, and roll the both of you over, so you’re straddling him. You just stay like that, just making out, letting the frenzied kisses lull themselves into something slower, something calmer. Just kissing for the sake of it. Roger’s hands stroke up and down your back, and you could almost fall asleep like this.

    Speaking of falling asleep – you have to break away, hiding your yawn by tucking your face into his chest. Roger hums, and you can feel it vibrating against your body. You smile. “Sorry,” you mumble.

    “Can hardly blame you,” Roger says, his voice low. “It’s late.”

    You let yourself slump against him, a moment of pure self-indulgence, and then roll to the side, dumping yourself onto the bed. You groan, unable to stop yourself from instinctively shifting into a more comfortable position for sleeping, your arm beneath your head like a pillow, your eyes closing.

    “I’m sorry,” you say again, muffled by your arm. “I’ll leave in a minute.”

    Roger says nothing, and you feel your stomach coil in guilt. God, he wanted you to leave fifteen minutes ago, didn’t he? He was just too polite to say anything. And then you pressured him into making you come again, because you were too selfish to know when enough was enough. Great, fucking great, you’ve fucked it all up, and you’re a huge piece of shit, and you–

    “Did you want to stay the night?” Roger asks tentatively.

    Your eyes fly open, and you shift up onto your elbow. “What?” you say. “Stay?”

    Roger glances away from you. “It– It was just a suggestion,” he says. “Just an idea, I don’t know. I, um – it’s just late, and I don’t want you travelling all that way on your own. You can, obviously, if you want to, that’s up to you, I just…”

    You’re hardly even listening. You’re still struggling to drink in the first thing he said. “You want me to stay?” you ask.

    Roger looks to you, and bites his bottom lip. “If– Well, if you want to, then, um, yes, I’d like you to. But only if you want to.”

    You beam, and your heart triples in size. “Um, yes. I’d like to.”

    Roger smiles back. “Good. Great. That’s–” He clears his throat. “Did you want to have a shower?”

    “I think so,” you say with a laugh. “I’m…” You went to say I’m so disgusting right now, but you don’t want to fuck up your now-sleepover before it’s even properly begun. “Yes please.”

    “Well, you know where the bathroom is,” Roger says, nodding towards the en suite. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer, if I remember correctly. I’ll get you a towel.”

    “You’re not coming into the shower with me?” you ask coyly.

    Roger blinks, and you laugh.

    “Oh,” he says. “You were joking.”

    “I wasn’t,” you say. “You just made me laugh.”

    Roger swoops down to steal a kiss, and you don’t let him leave, pushing up into him, stealing a few kisses back.

    “Let me get you a towel,” he says, and then climbs off the bed and pads out of the room.

    You bite on your finger to stop yourself from making some stupid giggle, or maybe a dumb squealing sound like a little girl. He asked you to stay the night. He wants you to stay the night.

    Oh, shit, you realise, your finger dropping from your mouth. Justine. You never told her what was happening.

    Where’s your phone? In the living room. Spitting out a curse, you pull on your underwear and Roger’s shirt again, and hurry out. You run into Roger, arms full of sheets, in the hallway. “Hey, is everything all right?” he says. “What did you forget?”

    “I never told my roommate I wasn’t coming home,” you say. “Last she heard, I was about to book an Uber.”

    Roger’s eyes go a little wider. “Shit, whoops. Yeah, go tell her.”

    You shoot him a smile, and scurry off to the living room. Your phone is on the couch, and you snatch it up. Wow, shit, it is late. You’re glad you only have an afternoon lecture tomorrow.

    Thankfully, just one message from Justine, from about half an hour ago. hey, haven’t heard from u in a while. just send me a message when u get this ok? xx

    You respond. fuck sorry, left my phone in the other room. I have SO MUCH to tell u omg, but in a nutshell uhh we ended up sleeping together, it was fucking amazing, and now he’s asked me to stay over, so ill see u at uni tomorrow maybe? if not then at home xx

    You keep your phone in hand, and head back to Roger’s room. He’s started cleaning up in the minute you were gone, stripping the bed. Fresh sheets sit on the floor. “What’s this?” you ask.

    “I’m making the bed,” Roger says simply, tugging a pillow from its case. “I’m too old to be sleeping on sheets I’ve just had sex on. Let me tell you, it makes a difference. And the sheets were due for a change, anyway.”

    You step forward. “Well, let me help.”

    “Don’t be silly, jump in the shower.”

    “Don’t tell me what to do.” You set your phone down beside his on the bedside table, and together the two of you help remake his bed.

    Roger chases you into the shower then, and says he’s going to tidy up the room a little more before he joins you. “I’m on a roll now,” he says, picking up your shoes from where you kicked them aside during the bed-making. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

    You take the make-up wipes. The door is about halfway open, and you can hear Roger moving around, hear when he trips over something and hisses out a curse, making you smile.

    The make-up wipe freezes in the air near your eye. You can’t very well have a shower and go to bed without taking your make-up off – it does not make even a vague semblance of a pretty picture – but this is… way more intimate than you were expecting. Why didn’t you think of this when you agreed to stay over? Roger’s going to see you without your make-up on, with your hair tied up in a bun. He’s going to see you in the morning, all bleary-eyed and disgusting. Fuck, morning breath. You have the spare clothes you brought that you can change into tomorrow, but no extra underwear. Nothing to wear tonight. It’s a miracle that Roger even has a spare toothbrush. What time does he get up for work? Will he expect you to leave before he wakes up?

    Are you a one-night-stand? Is that what this is? Are you asked to stay the night if you’re nothing but a one-night-stand, or does the fact that he asked you mean something else?

    “Is your roommate all right?” Roger asks, coming to the door, leaning against the doorjamb. “No freak-outs?”

    You lower the make-up wipe. “Um, no. It’s all fine, I think.”

    “Have you found the toothbrush?”

    “No, I haven’t checked yet.”

    Roger moves around you, pulling open the drawer and rummaging through. “Ah, here it is. Still in the packet! How good am I?”

    You smile as he presents it to you like it’s a medal of honour. “Thanks.”

    “Sorry about the make-up wipes,” Roger says. “They’re not great.” He huffs, and then leans against the edge of the sink, rubbing his hands down his face. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m… I’m actually really nervous.”

    Your eyebrows shoot up. “Nervous?” you repeat. “About what?”

    “About… you staying over,” he confesses. “It’s been, I don’t know, ten years since I’ve had anyone new sleep over. My brain is suddenly filled with every annoying thing I do when I sleep. And I look awful in the mornings, let me tell you. If you think I look bad now, just you wait.”

    “Who says I think you look bad now?” you say. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that I think you’re a hot piece of ass, Roger.”

    Roger splutters, flustered, and you grin.

    “I move around a lot,” he says. “When I sleep. So be prepared to cop an elbow to the face.”

    “Don’t you worry, I’m a heavy sleeper,” you say. “And I move around, too.”

    “I run hot,” Roger adds. “I’m like a space heater. And sometimes I talk in my sleep, but only when I’m really stressed about something, like work. I can be really very clingy.”

    “I run cold,” you say with a shrug. “So clingy suits me fine.”

    Roger pauses, staring at you, like he wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Then he snaps out of it, glancing away. “Sorry,” he says for a third time.

    “Don’t apologise,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to. I’m nervous, too. Like, really fucking nervous. I’m– I’m too nervous to even take my make-up off.”

    Roger’s eyes search your face. “I won’t care what you look like,” he says gently. “I’m sorry that you feel nervous about taking it off. But it won’t matter, I promise.”

    “Just wait and see,” you joke in a sing-song voice.

    Roger is silent for a few moments, and then he says, “Well, I hope you’re ready. I’m going to kiss the bloody daylight out of you when you take it off.”

    You don’t know how to respond. “You don’t have to do that.”

    “I’m going to. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable without make-up on. And if that means I have to keep kissing you all night as a reminder that it doesn’t matter what you look like without make-up, then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

    You duck your head, making a disgruntled sound. Why does he have to say cute shit like that? Why must he make you suffer?

    Roger pushes the packet of make-up wipes a little closer to you, waggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle, and then reaches across you for his toothbrush.

    You start wiping off your make-up.

    Roger waits until you’ve finished taking it off, until you’ve brushed your teeth, until you’re well and truly left without anything to do, and then he cups your face in his hands and does exactly what he promised he’d do.

    One steamy make-out session and one far-too-long shower later, you’re sitting on the newly-made bed, wrapping in a towel, the strands of hair that slipped loose from your bun sticking to your neck and temples. You’re watching Roger pull on a pair of underwear and rifle through his chest of drawers. He pulls out a huge shirt, clearly worn and well-loved, and turns to you, holding it out. “I went on a day trip once to Brighton,” he says. “We were out to a pub and I spilled red wine all over my shirt. Had to buy a new one. Sent one of my mates to get it for me and he came back with this. Hence why I have a shirt about five sizes too big for me.”

    “You didn’t have to explain,” you say with a chuckle, taking it from him.

    “I feel like I did,” Roger says. “I, um, usually use it as a sleep shirt when I travel.”

    You slip it on, and then stand up, letting your towel drop to the floor. The shirt is long enough to cover everything, but you’re not about to bend down any time soon.

    You glance over at your underwear, where they’re in a pile near the door. Should you put them back on?

    “Please don’t,” Roger blurts.

    You look to him. “Huh?”

    His face goes red. “Um. I just– I– You– I saw you look over there, and–” He rubs his hand along his jaw. “I, um…” He looks to the ceiling, and says it in a rush. “I’m sorry this sounds awful but I saw you looking over at your knickers and I don’t want you to put them on because you look really hot wearing my shirt and the thought of you wearing nothing underneath makes my brain explode.”

    “You’re one to talk,” you say, “standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of boxers like that doesn’t make my brain explode.”

    Roger’s eyes flick towards yours, and he breaks out into a smile, and then laughs. “I guess we’re even, then.”

    “We’ll be truly even when I see you wearing my clothes,” you say teasingly.

    Roger steps in close, his hands coming to your waist. “I don’t think your dress would fit properly, love.”

    “I’ll have to come better prepared next time,” you say, and Roger hums, leaning in to give you a kiss.

    Next time. Next time. You said ‘next time’. Talk about presumptuous. Christ! What is wrong with you?

    You break away. “Not that I think there’ll be a next time,” you say quickly. No. Bad phrasing. “I don’t want to assume there’ll be a next time.” Still bad. “I don’t want you to think that I think there has to be a next time.” Even worse. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to have a next time if you don’t want there to be.” Better. Not great, but passable.

    “I want a next time,” Roger says. “If you want one.”

    “I do,” you say, God, far too eager. “I’d really like there to be a next time.”

    “Me too,” Roger says.

    You press into him for another kiss, and then, finally, the two of you make it to bed.

    Once you’re under the covers, you almost fall asleep immediately. You didn’t realise how exhausted you are. Roger reaches over and switches off the light, and then wraps an arm around your stomach, his front against your spine. You allow yourself to smile freely in the dark, even as your eyes close and you drift off to sleep.

                                                      ~~~

    “I’m… I’m going to send you the rest of the payment,” Roger says. He’s dressed for work, just in a white dress shirt and black slacks, and you’d been admiring him and enjoying the coffee he’d made you after you’d gotten out of the shower. It’s early – too early, for both of you.

    But now your stomach drops, and you lower your mug of coffee from your lips. “You are?”

    “Yes,” Roger says.

    “You don’t have to,” you say. “I said it last night, I don’t care about the money.”

    “I know,” Roger says. “But it’s still right. You started this whole thing to help pay the bills, and it’s not your fault that there was that whole mix-up. You don’t deserve to miss out on getting the money you’ve rightfully earned.”

    “You don’t deserve to fork out that much money because of that whole mix-up,” you say. “You’ve already paid half of it. And it’s– it’s quite a fair bit, Roger.”

    “I can afford to pay it,” Roger says. “I’m living more than comfortably. Giving you the money you’ve earned would just mean that I can’t, I don’t know, travel overseas this year.” He raises his eyebrows a touch. “Well, now that I might not have to be paying for three kids as well, maybe I’ll still be able to afford to go.” He shakes his head. “That’s beside the… My point is, I can afford it. And you deserve it.”

    You don’t know what to say. “Roger…”

    “Just let me,” he says earnestly. “Please. I want to.”

    You open and close your mouth a few times. God, you’d be mad to turn down the money. But it doesn’t feel right. Does it? You don’t even know what to think.

    You glance down at your mug. “All right,” you say quietly, so much so that you’re not even sure if he can hear you. But you can’t bring yourself to speak any louder. “Thank you, Roger.”

    “Hey.”

    You look up at him, and he smiles. “You can pay me back by letting me take you out to dinner.”

    Your face immediately grows hot. “Suave motherfucker,” you say, and he laughs.

    “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he says playfully.

    Your stomach squeezes. “Sure,” you say. “But I’m paying.”

    Roger snorts. “Not bloody likely.”

    “I’ll fight you for the cheque, don’t think I won’t.”

    “Maybe I’ll just sneakily pay for it before you’ve even realised.”

    You narrow your eyes at him. “Can we settle on going Dutch?”

    Roger sips his coffee. “All right,” he says eventually.

    “Good.”

    He takes out his phone, holding it out to you. “Text me some time during this week,” he says. “About where you want to go. Or just text me if you want to say hi. Or call me. Y’know, whatever.”

    You tilt your head to the side as you take his phone. “That wasn’t quite as suave, I have admit.”

    Roger sighs. “Damn.”

    You laugh, and send a quick text to yourself, then slide the phone back to him.

    He seems extremely pleased, but he takes a casual drink from his coffee like he’s trying to hide it, and you can’t help but think it’s horribly cute.

    He shoots a glance at you, and sees you grinning at him, and his cheeks turn pink, and he clears his throat, turning away to the sink to rinse his mug out.

                                                      ~~~

    You’re at uni, half-asleep, shuffling back to the bus stop after your never-ending lecture, when Justine barrels into you, grabbing your elbow so tightly that you yelp. “What the fuck happened last night?” she exclaims.

    You don’t know why it hadn’t been awkward this morning. Apart from the money conversation. There had still been some nervousness, on your part anyway, but Roger had been too focused on getting ready for work to let any uncomfortable silences hang. You have to admit that it had been nice to wake up with someone’s arm around you, and you had been quietly delighted to see Roger fussing over the faint bruises on his neck, pulling up his shirt collar and adjusting his tie to try to cover them. After you’d both gotten ready for the day, he’d dropped you at the nearest bus stop. “And I will text you,” he’d said seriously. “Don’t think I won’t.”

    “Good,” you’d said. “I’ll be waiting for it. Three days is the general rule, right?”

    Roger had groaned. “Don’t make me wait three days.”

    You had chuckled. “I’m not making you do anything.” You’d hesitated, and then said, “Is it weird if I kiss you before I go?”

    Roger had taken a breath. “I… wouldn’t say so, no.”

    So you’d leant in and kissed him, and he’d kissed you back, and you’d wanted to keep kissing him, but a car had pulled up behind you and honked, so you’d drawn back, whispered, “Bye,” and gotten out of the car.

    Once you’d figured out how to get home, you’d crashed, sleeping until your alarm had woken you up again for your lecture.

    “Stuff,” you say to Justine.

    “Stuff?” Justine squawks. “Don’t give me that shit. You have to tell me literally everything, or I’m going to kill you. Come on.” She loops her arm through yours, and starts towing you towards the bus stop.

    Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket.

    I know it hasn’t been three days, but it’s been more than three hours. Is that enough time, do you think?

    You smile, reply, I think so, yeah, then quickly pocket the phone before Justine can sneak a glance as Amazonian butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

[you-are-my-neverland]

“That’s a shame,” Professor Laurier said. “If I may give you a word of advice, Ms. Beaulieu, I would say that you need to figure out what you want, not what you think you need to.”

- F I V E 

[ a/n: and we’re officially on november 20th, 2/3rds of the way through with national novel writing month twenty twenty. this novel remains unnamed, but my word count is, as of the 20th, 43.5k, which is a bit insane. i attempted to actually make this post nice to look at. we’ll see what happens ] 

songs i one hour looped to.

sleep thru ur alarms by lontalius

it’s not love by lontalius

wings by birdy

grace by lewis capaldi

nym by phlux

praying by kesha

girls by girl in red

writing thoughts.

i’m really proud to have kept up my average so far, especially since the middle is usually really lagging. i wrote almost four more chapters and half of it is literally just like pages of prose, thoughts, character introspection, and generally filler dives into the mind, but while i am a bit frustrated that it feels like this wip is really dragging it’s feet, i have been enjoying myself immensely. right now, it’s really just setting the stage and starting to build the bones of bare character dynamics/relationships that will all develop later on - necessary (i mean probably not 40k worth, but yeah...) but lengthy.

as excited as i am to get to some action, like even just the first teeny tiny start of the mountain, i am having a lot of fun fleshing out my characters. i feel like i’m really getting to know them (and also finding out that i am projecting onto ophelia and eden hard lol, geez). of course, i have a really large cast for this wip that will be of varying importance throughout at least this book, but that also is a bit messy, because i’m trying to weave them all together and make sure they get set up for later arcs.

on that note, i still want to call this wip these violent ends, but considering it’s technically the first of a trilogy idk how that would work out...i’m really attached to that title though lol. 

anyways, here are some favorite lines - tried to pick some out, might like chapter six a bit too much..

some favorite lines. 

three.

“So I’m throwing a fucking party,” Thaleia added. “And we’re all going to have so much fucking fun.”

four.

Ophelia opened it to find Sebastian methodically lacing up his tennis shoes, which looked too ordinary to be real against the soft white of his clothing, as if a medieval peasant had walked into a Nike shop and simply selected a pair of sleek shoes that matched.

“I love your dress, by the way,” the other girl added. “Red looks good on you.” “You, too,” Ophelia said, and then flushed, correcting, “I mean your dress looks good on you. It’s very pretty.”

five.

Ophelia hadn’t thought that he was the type to like to disappear, but then she had thought about it more, at a night when she’d missed home a little too much, and realized that not everyone wanted to disappear in the same way, that not everyone was like her brother to a T.

They had been six or seven or eight when the Red Revolution had started, and like their parents remembered how it had started in waves, they had been raised in a changing world and tumultuous times. She remembered the air raids, the practice lockdowns and the sheets that had come in the mail, demonstrating what to do in an emergency, or if they had to suddenly evacuate. Wanted posters, with constantly changing pictures. Missing posters—and those had been the worst. Ophelia remembered one coming in of a little girl her age, with pigtails and gap teeth. She couldn’t recall much from that period before eight—a few scattered memories of the Revolution, Des and Tian and her, but more emotions attached to events, short in her mind—but she remembered that girl on the missing person’s poster. They’d found her body a week later.    

Ophelia blinked, at a loss for words. “I do belong with my brother,” she said, finally. “There’s no situation where I wouldn’t actively choose to be with my brother.” “And does your brother, Sebastian, was it, feel the same way?”

six.

But Vincent was dirt poor and used to empty cabinets and red numbers on unopened bills, so he had stopped worrying about why his mother had left and died in the first place—all that mattered was that he was alone, now. He couldn’t hide the aura that surrounded him, that showed itself in his old clothes and his broken shoes and his undernourished body, in the bloodshot eyes and the slight tremble of his eyes and the smell of smoke that accompanied him wherever he went.

Well, his teachers back home probably thought his life would not amount to anything more than dying early as a drug addict, and Vincent wanting to do something more than that was seen as just daydreaming. It was funny, how they told kids like him they could be anything and then turned tail and said that they were shooting too high by wanting to ever get out of that town or their poverty line lifestyles. He was getting out of that town. He would never live at the poverty line again. 

“No,” Asriel cut in. His voice was calm and smooth as glass. “What was the government doing that was so wrong that some Mages felt the need to overthrow it in the first place?”

Happiness and warmth gave Vincent as much power as the other side to the coin, the wrath and the chaos that came after the smile, or the laugh. For Asriel, he thought smiling might be a bit of a death sentence, because when Asriel smiled, it gave the impression that he had given something up, taken down a bit of his walls, in order to do so, and that was dangerous.

Even if their ghosts didn’t remain, the memories mired in the streets he walked daily held him with bony fingers, reminding him of the pasts so many people had lived. Pieces of soul left behind, ghostly forms that stayed behind on scraps of emotion: vengefulness, anger, sadness, and regret; nobody died without one of them left behind. For all the brave stories Sebastian had read about soldiers or people who had died ready for it, embraced it with open arms, he had yet to meet a ghost that had been ready to leave.

They told him to hate the ghosts, and so by sheer power of will, Sebastian loved them instead.

taglist > @semblanche

if you think this wip is cool and would like sporadic updates, express your interest explicitly, please!