#but I also wrote this RIGHT before I was like “yeah.... the monkeys are women”

[reverintherevery]

[As I change all the he/hims into she/hers] I need to be the change I want to see in the world.

[wild-karrde]

OOF THE TENSION RIGHT OUT OF THE GATE. I AM READY TO SUFFER ADDITIONAL EMOTIONAL DAMAGE. HERE WE GO.

Wolffe just being immediately aware something was wrong with Neyti and turning to Kazi to figure out why? I LOVE HIM. But WHOOOO BOY Kazi's guilt in this chapter is HARD to stomach. Just the absolute spiral of self-loathing and blame and feeling like a failure, when in reality, she's still just trying her best. Yesterday was a BAD day, but she's still TRYING. And if I'm honest, her anger at Daria was a bit from a selfish place, a place where she wants her sister around, but also, for Kazi to put her desires first for once? And then to feel like THIS after? Just COMPLEX FEELINGS ON BEAUTIFULLY CRAFTED CHARACTERS.

“You look tired.” Turning off the faucet, she threw him a bland look. “You must have been popular with women.”

LOOOOOOOOL.

And now he's going with her to the market? I am making gremlin grabby hands at this. Just so you know.

Also, THE FACT THAT SHE NO LONGER GETS ANNOYED ABOUT THEM WORKING ON THE HOUSE??? And that she's gonna let them update the locks?

For the record, reading this chapter just before lunch was a terrible idea. My stomach is now HOWLING and I gotta get through this so I can make some food. The market part made me HUNGRY lol.

AND THE SPLITTING OF THE CHOCOLATE BAR??? Listen, I'm hoovering up the crumbs of them right now, but I just love this. AND THEN HIM SEEING THE CEAIAN PRODUCE AND STOPPING HER? Gah. He's so good. He cares in his own way. HE CARES ABOUT HER AND NEYTI. I LOVE THIS. I AM SCREAMING AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. And the fruit taking her back to a specific memory? THE POWER OF FOOD, BABY. I can't lie, it made me think of that one scene in Ratatouille, but take this as THE HIGHEST COMPLIMENT.

“But we can’t do it alone,” he said, voice stern. “Never alone.”

AND HER USING THIS AS AN OPPORTUNITY TO TELL NEYTI MORE ABOUT CEAIA?? AND WOLFFE BEING A PART OF THIS MOMENT?? I AM JUST LOSING MY MARBLES OVER THIS.

Alright, I am glaring at death stick man. HOW DARE HE INTERRUPT THIS MOMENT. And HELL YEAH WOLFFE, TELL HIM TO GO STEP ON A LEGO.

The tradition of the gift of the fruit? And the fact that they just gave Wolffe one? ALLI, I AM LOSING IT.

THE MONKEY SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME AT FIRST (because yeah I'm sus on the death sticks man and the fact that he's seen Wolffe with his hood down), BUT NOW MY AMUSEMENT KNOWS NO BOUNDS.

NOOOO not them robbing him of the fruit, but the JOY in that moment for Kazi. IT IS SO DESERVED. And WOLFFE JUST WATCHING HER SO CAREFULLY. AND THEN NEYTI GIVING HER LAST PIECE OF FRUIT TO WOLFFE. ALLI, I AM JUMPING UP AND DOWN ON MY COUCH RIGHT NOW.

Oh my GOD WOLFFE HELPING HER PICK OUT THE NEGLIGEE. The gentle teasing??? I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ONCE AGAIN.

He GARDENS??? I love it. I love everything about this. And OF COURSE he's all about efficiency and careful research. OF COURSE HE IS.

And him telling her she's a good parent? And then her reliving the attack?

Emotional damage aside, I really love how you wrote the Ceaia attack, how it was a warning and made an example of. The early politics and response to the Empire's existence have always intrigued me. Of course they'd quash early rebellions as best they could while maintaining face, trying to convince people that they were better off while clamping down on any dissent. At what point would it become apparent to certain places that this was a fascist regime, that it's not a one-to-one replacement for the Republic? I think stuff like that is so interesting, and we've got so much wiggle room since canon has largely left it untouched. We've really only seen the perspective of the clones early on, but I think A LOT about what other places and people would perceive.

“Maybe.” Her vision blurred and she shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense why I survi—” 

OOP. HELLO THERE, PAINFUL SIMILARITY BETWEEN WOLFFE AND KAZI.

“That’s why you’re spying for the network.” Wolffe lowered his face to hers and she tensed. “I didn’t get it. But now I know—” “I don’t know what you’re—” “I’ve seen it in Fox. I’ve seen that same look in his eyes.”  They were standing close enough she could smell him—smell the scent of his soap and something so familiar it made her heart ache.   “You have it too,” she whispered. “For different reasons, but you have the same look.” He held her gaze. “I know.”

PLEASE KNOW THAT THIS SENT MY BRAIN SPIRALING INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION AND I'M GONNA NEED TO LAY ON THE FLOOR FOR A FEW MINUTES. THEY'RE UNDERSTANDING ONE ANOTHER. THEY'RE GETTING CLOSER. THE TENSION IS INCREDIBLE. ALLI, I'M JUST SCREAMING.

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XI

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | A Muse | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5.2K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

22 Melona

Kazi regarded her sister with an impassive expression. Tapping her fingers against her crossed arms, she glanced at her chrono. “I will force it down your throat.”

Anger twisted Daria’s mouth and she chugged the iridescent blue potion. Grimacing—either at the taste or the knowledge her hallucinations wouldn’t return today—Daria set aside the bottle and pressed her lips together. 

The silence between them was thicker than the humidity outside. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Kazi said stiffly. “But I—”

Daria turned on her heel and walked away. 

Kazi stared after her sister. A part of her felt guilty for controlling Daria. And yet she couldn’t muster the energy to really care. Her sister’s negligence had most likely aggravated her disease’s progression, and it was all for hallucinations.

Gritting her teeth, Kazi wandered out of the room and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. It was the sight of the little girl at the kitchen table that drew her from her frustrations. 

Neyti was awake earlier than usual. Her hair was rumpled and her eyes downcast. A glass of lemon juice, untouched, rested within reach of her fingers but she ignored it, picking at a spot on the table.

From his stool, Wolffe eyed Neyti, his brows furrowed in confusion. He gave Kazi a questioning look and she shook her head, starting on breakfast. 

As she sliced a loaf of bread, she could feel Wolffe watching her—feel the silent demand for an explanation. But it was his words from long ago, his accusation that made it too difficult to meet his gaze. 

You’re a shitty sister and even shittier caretaker. 

She didn’t want Wolffe to know about yesterday. She didn’t want his judgment. Even if she deserved it.

Bread toasted and smoothed with a jam Daria had made, Kazi set the plate in front of Neyti and took a seat at the table. The little girl frowned at the missing lumina berries and scrambled eggs.

“I was thinking,” Kazi started, “we could go to the Marketplace today. The vendors are setting up for the Harvest Festival and I’ve heard there’s good food to try.”

Flattening her palms beneath her thighs, to stop herself from wringing them, Kazi surveyed Neyti’s somber face. The exhaustion dulling Neyti’s skin. The smudges beneath her eyes.  

“If you’re interested,” she added lamely.

Neyti lifted a piece of toast, appraising the jam. A tentative swipe of her tongue and her eyebrows raised. She took a small bite and chewed. Another bite was followed by a sip of the lemon juice. 

Accepting that both Daria and Neyti would be ignoring her for the day, Kazi pushed away from the table. She didn’t fault Neyti. Little Kazi would have done the same. But hopelessness—the acceptance of her failure and the self-hatred it evoked—yawned within her, dark and hollow. Vacuous like the cold emptiness of a black hole. 

Kazi started to step away but Neyti lifted her head. She dipped her chin. 

The nod was small and hesitant, and Kazi hated the knowledge she was the cause of Neyti’s renewed reclusiveness. But she forced herself to smile. To appear unaffected. 

“Okay,” she said hoarsely. “We’ll leave when you finish.”

As Neyti finished her breakfast, Kazi washed the dishes, trying to concentrate on her task rather than the accusatory thoughts spearing her mind. A restless sleep last night and the remnants of shame made it difficult to escape her mind, so she shifted her attention to Wolffe. The sleeves of his white shirt were shoved up his forearms. His hair was still damp from a recent shower. He was studying her, and she raised an eyebrow in question.

“You look tired.”

Turning off the faucet, she threw him a bland look. “You must have been popular with women.”

His eyes narrowed and he slid a sidelong glance in Neyti’s direction. “What happened?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Drying her hands on a towel, she stiffened at his unflinching scowl. “It’s family-related, and has nothing to do with the magistrate or the network.”

Wolffe reclined back in his stool. “When are you giving the network our intel?”

“Tomorrow.” Kazi leaned against the counter, searching his face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

A week ago, the men decided to accept the rebel network’s offered collaboration. They would retrieve the network’s wanted intel, and the network would pay them in return. Quite handsomely. 

Kazi didn’t support the collaboration. The less contact with the network, the better. And she didn’t want Wolffe and his brothers forced into a position they didn’t want to be in. But she also knew the men. Knew they accepted the deal after much debate, consideration, and analysis of the risk-versus-cost. 

“We’ve made our decision,” Wolffe said. The tick of a muscle in his jaw was the only sign of his disquiet. “We need the money.”

They lapsed into silence. 

At the kitchen table, Neyti finished her toast and moved onto her lemon juice. Kazi made a mental note to visit a citrus stall. Maybe Neyti could pick some out and they could make their own version of lemon juice. 

Wolffe cleared his throat. “Are you eating breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. Just the thought of food made her stomach turn uneasily. “Anyway, we’re eating at the Marketplace.”

Wolffe tapped two fingers against the bar. “I’ll join you.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t an open invitation. “Why?”

“I need to pick up some things.” He pushed himself to his feet, regarding her suspiciously. “Don’t leave without me.”

With that, he disappeared into the basement.

Fifteen minutes later and Kazi and Neyti were buckled into the aircar. Wolffe had beat them to it, claiming the driver’s seat, and since Kazi didn’t like to drive, she didn’t offer to switch places. Instead, her attention was drawn to the coat of white paint freshening both the front door and the wrapround porch’s banister. The house looked cheerier, well-lived and inviting. 

“It was Fox’s idea, and the lazy bastard passed it onto Cody,” Wolffe said. He must have noticed her staring. Shifting gears, the car rumbled forward and he shot her an inscrutable look. “We’re adding a better locking system.”

Tiredly, Kazi nodded her appreciation.

“No arguments?” Wolffe asked. The surprise in his tone was genuine.

“I’ve wanted to update the lock for months.” Her cheeks warmed at the obvious negligence and she curled her fingers into the passenger seat’s cushion. “So I think it’s a good idea. Let me know how much it costs—” 

Wolffe snorted, and at her affronted glare, he rolled his eyes. 

They spent the rest of the ride in silence.

Being the first day of the two-week celebration leading to the Harvest Festival, the Marketplace was crowded. People crammed into the tight streets. Elbows knocked and shoulders jammed into one another. A greater part of the crowd consisted of humans, though the occasional sentient species stood out, much to Neyti’s intrigue. 

The little girl stuck close to Kazi, her mouth parted as she took in the stalls. Stands overflowed with an abundance of brightly-colored fruits and oddly-shaped vegetables. Spices spiraled into pyramidal structures. Some towered over Neyti’s small figure.

Scents of marinating vegetables, baked bread, and roasting meats wafted through the streets. Vendors and customers argued over prices. Icy fish sailed through the air, passing from one set of hands to another. 

Curiosity compelled Neyti to assess each stand, and by the time they reached a citrus stall, two hours had passed. 

Delighted by Kazi’s promise to make lemon juice when they returned to the house, and awed by the lemons’ size—some larger than Wolffe’s hands—Neyti meticulously selected half a bunch. Kazi slipped them into her bag. 

They finally stopped for food. Vinegared vegetables, charred pita, dollops of hummus, fried fritters. Wolffe bought a chocolate bar for Neyti, and while she was distracted, he split a second bar with Kazi. Initially, she refused it. But Wolffe was stubborn and Kazi too tired to argue, so she accepted the sweetened bar and they continued on their way.  

The longer they walked, the more Kazi started to relax and enjoy herself. She smiled faintly at Neyti’s wonder and made plans to take Neyti with her the next time she went grocery shopping.

They were wandering aimlessly when a large hand grabbed her bicep and pulled her to a halt. Kazi stiffened, frowning at Wolffe’s hand. Frowning at the thumb that grazed the bare skin of her bicep in a gentle arc. She lifted her gaze to his, and even though the dark gray of his poncho shadowed his features, she could still see his eyes. The blatant surprise. 

A heartbeat passed. Wolffe haphazardly released her arm, angling his chin toward a nearby stand.

“Ceaian produce,” he said gruffly. He flexed his hand, glaring at it. “I thought you… Never mind.”

Kazi glanced at the stand, reading its banner: 

LOCALLY GROWN CITRUS-STAR. A CEAIAN SPECIALTY.

Her heart slowed as she gawked at the baskets of produce. At the pale orange, tear-shaped fruits.

The last time she had eaten a citrus-star she was ten. Her father had bought a bunch and brought them sailing. It was one of their last trips together.

They sat on the railing of their boat, feet dangling over the water, the sun filtering through Ceaia’s classically gray skies. 

“Do you know what the citrus-star symbolizes?” her father asked. Little Kazi shook her head. “The citrus-star is a symbol of our people. Of our resilience. Through everything—the good and bad—we endure.” 

Her father smiled, and though his face was weathered by endless days at sea, his smile retained his youth. 

“But we can’t do it alone,” he said, voice stern. “Never alone.”

Dubiously, Kazi took a step toward the stand. And another. 

It was like a dream—the dreams she wished she didn’t experience. The dreams she awoke from that left her feeling drained and lachrymose because they were so real, full of joy and comfort and sheer life. 

She reached for a citrus-star; its fuzzy skin was soft to her palm, like the blubber of a dolphin. Exactly as she remembered. 

Beside her, a head full of black hair, peeked into the closest basket. Neyti studied the fruit with her usual shrewdness, extending a tentative finger to stroke the citrus-star closest to her. She inhaled sharply. 

“Do you remember the story of the citrus-star?” Kazi’s father asked when they had eaten their fill.

“Yes, Papa.” She smiled and her father nodded his approval. She knew the story better than any other. It was one of her favorites, after all.

Kazi bought three citrus-stars and ushered Neyti into an empty back alley, away from the loudness of the jostling crowd. Her hands trembled slightly as she squirted a few drops of sanitizer into Neyti’s palms. A splatter for herself and for Wolffe—who accepted the sanitizer with faint amusement—and she tucked the bottle into her bag.

“The citrus-star is the oldest known food on Ceaia,” she said to Neyti, passing her one of the fuzzy fruits. Neyti sniffed it. “Do you want to know the story?”

Eagerly, Neyti nodded. 

Kazi felt herself smile. “Legend claims Ceaia was originally an uninhabitable planet. It was a planet dominated by fearsome creatures and lacking the nutrients required for human survival.”

To her left, Wolffe leaned against the wall of the closest building, arms crossed over his chest. Though he appeared at ease, there was a slight rigidness to his shoulders. A hypervigilance in the way he scanned their surroundings, as he had done since they first left the aircar. 

Cast in shade from the Marketplace’s tarps—Eluca’s national colors (dark green, light gray, and pale yellow) used to shield patrons from the beating sun—Wolffe had removed his hood. The tarps’ shadows protected his identity enough. 

Kazi offered him the second citrus-star. He hesitated, assessing it with a critical eye. Neyti watched him closely. He noticed her appraisal. An innocent, toothless smile lit her face. Wolffe accepted the citrus-star, his sigh begrudging.

“Our people originated from the Unknown Regions,” Kazi continued. “But our planet was ravaged by the explosion of our sun, so we had to leave. Back then, our people were allied with the dragons.”

Neyti tilted her head to the side, listening raptly. 

“I told you that the dragons were our guardians.” Neyti nodded. “They didn’t just guard us, they were our companions. They were family—” 

A snort interrupted. A male, probably a decade older than Kazi, stood at the opposite end of the alley. A death stick rested between his lips and he puffed a small cloud of smoke. 

“Dragons don’t exist,” he said. Removing the stick from his mouth, he took a step closer, his eyes slowly taking her in. “Never did.”

From the corner of her eye, Neyti frowned, doubt marring her former curiosity. Kazi threw the male a disparaging glare. “There’s no evidence against their existence.”

He snickered. “With that outlook on life, you can argue the existence of anything.”

“There’s nothing wrong with naivete,” Kazi argued. “And there’s nothing wrong with believing in cultural legends.”

“You’re telling a fairytale to a kid.” He pointed a grubby finger at Neyti. “You’re filling her with nonsense—”

“That’s enough.” 

The harsh clip of Wolffe’s voice startled her enough Kazi fell silent, her snarky response lost. Wolffe had stepped away from the wall and angled himself between Neyti and the male. Annoyance and antipathy replaced his casual demeanor. 

“The details of our private conversation don’t include you,” Wolffe said dismissively. “Leave.”

The male spluttered. “How dare you—”

“I said leave.” 

The threat in his tone convinced the outraged male to find a new place to avoid the crowds, and once the male had slunk away, Wolffe faced Kazi and Neyti, resting a shoulder against the wall. He nodded at Kazi to continue. She schooled her features—hoping to hide the frustrated flush in her cheeks—and forced herself to smile at Neyti. 

“Because the dragons were our companions,” Kazi said, “they traveled far and wide to find our people a new home. They arrived on Ceaia and thought it resembled our former planet. It was perfect. Except for one thing: There was no edible food.”

Neyti frowned, hefting her citrus-star in question.

“Remember the story Daria told you about Vaeloria?” Kazi asked, starting to peel the pale orange shell of her citrus-star. Neyti reached for the pendant of her necklace, her expression solemn. Kazi released a quiet chuckle. “Vaeloria was one of the dragons searching for a new home, but when she realized the planet didn’t produce edible food, she started to cry.” 

The shell of Kazi’s fruit fell open, revealing the heart of the citrus-star. The edible part. 

“Vaeloria’s tears nourished the soil and from it sprouted a fruit.” Kazi flattened the five pieces of the shell. They formed a perfect star, protecting the inner, tear-shaped piece. She held out her palm. “The citrus-star.”

Neyti gasped.

“To this day the citrus-star remains the most revered fruit among Ceaians.” Kazi squatted beside Neyti and helped her peel her own fruit. The little girl admired her citrus-star. “It’s a reminder that no matter what, things will be okay.”

Kazi slid a piece of fruit into her mouth. The bitter tartness softened into an ambrosial sweetness so familiar she had to close her eyes. Her mouth watered as she chewed. It reminded her of her favorite memories. 

It reminded her of home.

A quiet shuffle drew her attention and she watched Neyti take a tentative bite. Neyti stiffened. Her nose scrunched, probably at the initial astringent taste, and her eyebrows knitted together. 

Slowly, she chewed her small bite, her features starting to relax—shifting from disgust to contemplation. Neyti plopped the rest of the piece into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged and Kazi breathed a quiet laugh, ducking her head to hide her amusement.  

“On Ceaia we celebrate the Harvest differently from Eluca,” she said, tossing the peel of her citrus-star into a bin. “We gift our loved ones, friends, neighbors, anyone we appreciate a fruit or vegetable in remembrance of the first gift our people received.”

Neyti shoved another piece into her mouth, and Kazi returned to her own citrus-star, relishing the familiar taste. 

They ate in silence, the tarps keeping the temperature tolerable. 

Surreptitiously, Kazi studied Wolffe, watching as he ate his citrus-star. His initial reaction was similar to Neyti’s—surprise, dislike, intrigue—but she couldn’t tell if he liked it, or if he was eating it to be polite. 

Wolffe must have felt her stare because he glanced at her. His eyes swept across her face, his expression inscrutable, and the corner of his mouth started to lift—

A hairy figure leapt from the tarps and landed on Wolffe’s shoulder.

Wolffe jerked. Kazi staggered back a step. Neyti gasped.

A monkey, its yellow eyes bulbous, perched itself on Wolffe’s shoulder. The monkey yawned, flexing sharp canines longer than Kazi’s fingers. Its tail curled, brushing Wolffe’s forehead.

Annoyed, Wolffe shoved the monkey’s tail away. “The fuc—”

“It’s a monkey,” Kazi interrupted. 

She tried not to smile, but Wolffe’s clear disgust for the creature now combing through his hair was far too entertaining. 

“They’re pocket-thieves,” she said, ignoring his baleful glare at her obvious amusement. “Most vendors hate them but they’re too hard to catch.”

The monkey’s tail swept along Wolffe’s forehead. Again. At his exasperated sigh, Neyti giggled, her hands pressed to her mouth and face gleaming with glee. The giggle was childish. So carefree and jubilant. 

“Maybe you should paint this,” Kazi said, nudging Neyti with her elbow. “I think Mr. Wolffe would love to have this memorialized.” 

Neyti giggled harder. 

Wolffe shook his head and lifted his hand, probably to fling the monkey off him. The creature was oblivious to his slow and controlled movement, too absorbed with rubbing its ears. 

Wolffe grabbed the monkey’s tail.

It hissed and bared its sharp canines.

Wolffe yanked the monkey from his shoulder—

A second monkey leapt from the building behind. Kazi watched, alarmed, as it swung for Wolffe. Bewildered by the surprise ambush, Wolffe released the first monkey.

The second monkey snatched the citrus-star from Wolffe’s hand and used his chest as a platform to propel itself away. 

The first monkey sprinted after the second, chattering its pleasure. 

They left an empty-handed Wolffe in their wake. 

The dumbfounded expression on Wolffe’s face made Kazi laugh, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle it. But the sheer randomness of two monkeys tag-teaming Wolffe to steal his fruit, coupled with Neyti’s giggling, was surreal. 

Her stomach ached and her cheeks started to hurt.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

Her laughter quieted when she noticed both Neyti and Wolffe staring at her.

Surprise widened Neyti’s eyes. She pointed a finger at her cheek and Kazi frowned, rubbing her own cheek. 

Neyti grinned. A wide, toothy grin. Creasing her tawny cheeks were a pair of adorable dimples. Kazi smiled, glancing at Wolffe in the hope he noticed Neyti’s wide, effusive smile—needing someone else to share in this small moment. 

However, and to her consternation, Wolffe was studying her. Studying her in a way that made her feel uncomfortably perceived. Her blood warmed to a temperature of idle caresses, and yet her stomach twisted itself into knots of unease. Her face burned and she dropped her gaze, looking to the crowded stands beyond.

“Why don’t we continue on?” she suggested.

Before they rejoined the crowds, Neyti glanced between Wolffe and her citrus-star. Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth. She seemed to be debating something of great importance. Finally, her decision made, she approached Wolffe and extended her last piece to the man.

Wolffe eyed the piece of fruit. His throat bobbed. “I’m all right, kid.”

Stubbornly, Neyti kept her hand extended. Wolffe narrowed his eyes. His gaze slid to hers and Kazi shrugged, deciding he was adult enough to deal with this on his own. 

An insistent shake of the fruit from Neyti and Wolffe caved, tucking the final piece into his piece and swallowing. Neyti wiped her hands on her frilly pink dress and looked to Kazi expectantly.

Their small trio set forth.

Afternoon sunshine heated the streets; the combination of the canopied tarps and dark gray of Eluca’s stone buildings maintained a semblance of coolness. 

Wolffe stepped away, telling Kazi to continue on without him, so she and Neyti wandered the aisles. Toys reminiscent of Kazi’s childhood earned a longer stop as Neyti perused each option with a careful eye. Kazi bought her an old toy that displayed film-photos with the click of a button. Neyti chose the film about constellations. 

At another stand, a vendor sold a variety of knives. Kazi selected a simple carving one—the vendor’s recommended choice for wood. Nearby, she purchased a book about trauma.  

They spent the longest time at a paint stand. Hailing from Alderaan, the vendor was a gentle, older man whose fingers spasmed, and yet, when he held a paintbrush, it acted like a natural extension of his own hand. Effortless and fluid. 

While Neyti scrutinized two different shades of blue paint, Kazi bought a small set of paintbrushes for Cody and then stepped to the neighboring stall. 

“Shopping to surprise your partner?” the vendor asked. The fresh-faced woman, probably in her forties with hair starting to gray, smiled suggestively. “We have matching bra and underwear sets—”

“Oh, no. I’m not…” Kazi stepped back, laughing awkwardly. “I wasn’t—”

“If you’re not interested in the matching sets, we have negligees.” The woman snagged a black one from behind her stall and held it out to her. “Suitable for partners and personal interest.”

Kazi didn’t need fancy lingerie. She hadn’t been with a male in years, and her bed would probably never see the likes of one again. But she hadn’t shopped for herself in a long time. And the negligee’s simple bodice was attractive. 

Approaching the stall, she accepted the lingerie, surprised by its airy, smooth material.

“Spun from spider silk on Jelucan,” the vendor explained. “It’s tear-free. Even after years of washing.”

Kazi hummed her interest, rubbing the bodice between her fingers. Sheer around the stomach. Classically gossamer around the breasts which were inlaid with simple flower designs. Thin straps and a lacy hem, the negligee would fall to the tops of her thighs. 

“We’re having a deal, and a white set would complement this set perfectly.” The vendor retrieved a lacy bralette and matching thong. She pushed them toward Kazi, her smile genuine. “I have a changing room just behind here.”

“That’s alright.” Kazi set aside the negligee. “I don’t need—”

“What do you think, sir?” the vendor interrupted. “Do you think she should buy it?”

A hand reached over her shoulder to feel the material. Kazi followed the length of the arm and found Wolffe standing behind her. He cocked his head to the side. “It’s silky.”

“It is.” She did a double take. “What are you—What—” 

“It’d look nice with your robe,” Wolffe offered.

Huffing her exasperation, Kazi snatched the negligee from Wolffe, ignored the smirk curving his mouth, and returned the item to the vendor, wincing apologetically. 

The woman winked. “I can keep this on reserve for you—”

“No.” Kazi backed away, her smile tight. “I’m okay. But thank you.”

Before the vendor could offer another deal, she walked away, Wolffe falling in step beside her.

“You want some privacy to buy it, I can step away—”

“Fuck off.” 

A quiet chuckle emanated from the arrogantly-humored man beside her and Kazi bit her lip, telling herself she wouldn’t smile. Telling herself she wouldn’t laugh. But she couldn’t entirely stifle her chuckle, and she thought it might have been worth it because the grin she received in return was effortless and easy. Amused and alive. The first she had seen from Wolffe.

They found Neyti still evaluating the two bottles of blue paint, and to avoid the crowded street, they stepped to the side of the stalls, giving Neyti time to finalize her decision. Wolffe leaned against the wall and surveyed their surroundings. His vigilance bordered obsessive but Kazi didn’t remark on it; instead, she took the opportunity to look him over. He was carrying two thickly-branched plants, their leaves a venomous vermilion. 

Mystified, she nodded at the plants. “What are those for?”

He hesitated. “My garden.”

Frowning, she looked from the bush to his face. He didn’t have a garden—

“The structure you and Fox built,” she murmured. Gardening was such an odd hobby to ascribe to him, similar to Cody and his painting. “I didn’t know you garden.”

Setting aside the plants, Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never had the opportunity before.”

The admittance was quiet and guarded, and he kept his attention on the crowds beyond their secluded spot. 

“We already have a garden,” she said quietly. “You and Fox could have used it.”

“This is different.” At her questioning look, he shrugged. “We want something that’s self-sufficient.” 

“How so?”

“We need bushes and flowers that’ll improve the garden’s efficacy.” He nudged one of the red bushes with his boot. “Nova recommended these. Said they’ll stabilize the vegetables and fruits Fox and I intend to plant. And I’m looking into harvesting pollinators—bees, of some species.”

Kazi was impressed by the effort and research he dedicated to his task. Then again, it was Wolffe. The hours he spent strategizing his missions—the calculation behind each of his decisions—proved his preparedness.

“A garden is permanent,” she remarked. “It sounds like you intend to stay for a while.”

Wolffe stiffened imperceptibly. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” Her lack of hesitation—the sincerity in her tone—earned her a slow perusal, a perusal that felt questioning, private. Intimate. 

Sheepishly, Neyti interrupted, holding two tubes of paint: one dark blue and the other pink. Kazi purchased the paints, and when she turned back to Wolffe and Neyti, she found the former staring at the neighboring stall. Shaking her head, she allowed Neyti to lead them down the street, around the corner, and up a new aisle of stalls. They stopped at a flameworking demonstration. 

A handful of younglings were seated on fallen logs, watching the demonstration. Fascinated by the intricate process, Neyti joined the other younglings. 

Kazi stepped into a dark alcove, a soft smile on her face as she watched Neyti. Even though Neyti had lost so much in the last few months, she remained curious about the world around her. Her innocent hope and childlike optimism were admirable. 

An elbow grazed hers and Kazi glanced at Wolffe. He was raking a hand through his hair, brushing the curls from his forehead, his hood fallen around his shoulders. His hair was recently cut, the sides faded once more, the top longer. Long enough someone could run their fingers through it and tug. 

“I don’t know what happened yesterday,” Wolffe said quietly, his gaze locked on Neyti, “but you’re a good pare—”

“Don’t.” Tension replaced the ease she had felt a moment ago and Kazi swallowed, looking away from his confused scowl to the gathered younglings. She didn’t want his pitiful attempt to make her feel better. 

“Ennari—” 

“Please don’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know I’m not good at this, and I’m not interested in gratification.”

Wolffe stood close enough it was hard to ignore him. He cleared his throat. “Did you know her mother?”

“No. Daria and I were in the capital when…” she tapered off. “We were in the capital trying to find her a cure when everything happened. We were at the transport station when Neyti’s mother arrived. I didn’t know her. She shoved Neyti into my arms and begged me to take care of her. So I promised her I would.”

“Promises are important to you,” he said.

“They are.” 

Wolffe cocked his head to the side. “Why did the Empire attack?”

Kazi loosed a brittle breath. “I’m surprised you don’t know.” 

“I deserted right after the war’s conclusion.” He searched her face. “I’ve heard the propaganda. That’s it.”

“The propaganda’s fairly accurate,” she said. “Our government agencies were spying on important military intel. We did it throughout the war—against both the Republic and the Confederacy. We thought we were safe. We thought the Empire wouldn’t dare attack us.”

Scoffing, she glanced at Neyti.

“But the Empire didn’t like being spied on. They didn’t like some backwater planet accessing, analyzing, and disseminating their intelligence. So they made an example of us.” 

It was six months after the Empire had risen to power. 

She remembered the comm call from Aeli, her fellow graduate. Her coworker. The only person she considered more than an acquaintance. 

“Kazi! They’re here. You have to run.”

She remembered the panic in Aeli’s voice. The harshness in her breaths. Like she was running. 

She remembered Aeli’s urgency.

“Get on a ship and don’t come back. I’ll—”

She remembered the way Aeli gasped. The loud swish of a blaster bolt. The crackling on the comm. And then the silence.

“We were a warning to other planets,” Kazi murmured. “To the early rebels, that rebellion was futile.”

Transferred between ships at a transport station, she overheard the whispered conversations between people. Their hushed fears and worries. Their grim condolences.  

“They destroyed our government buildings and slaughtered anyone with connections to the government.” 

The noise of the Marketplace’s streets quieted.

“And the worst thing is that the Empire doesn’t operate on Ceaia. They left, because Ceaia doesn’t offer them anything of value.” Her throat constricted. “From what I know, less than a hundred Imperials work out of the capital. Less than a hundred. Goes to show how many people survived the Purge.”

“There could be others,” Wolffe said. “Like you.”

“Maybe.” Her vision blurred and she shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense why I survi—” 

Kazi winced, rubbing her chest. Her survival was something she ignored, because if she thought about it for too long, she didn’t understand why—

“Being the commander of a battalion meant sending men into battle.” Wolffe’s voice was low, rough, and she stilled, scanning the hardened planes of his face. “I sent them into battle knowing some of them would die. I lost a lot of men over the years. I lost brothers.”

“Wolffe is single-minded when it comes to his goals. He will run these missions—and run himself ragged—until he either shifts his focus elsewhere or learns to live with the guilt.”

“Guilt for what?”

“Surviving the war.”

“That’s why you’re spying for the network.” Wolffe lowered his face to hers and she tensed. “I didn’t get it. But now I know—”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“I’ve seen it in Fox. I’ve seen that same look in his eyes.” 

They were standing close enough she could smell him—smell the scent of his soap and something so familiar it made her heart ache.  

“You have it too,” she whispered. “For different reasons, but you have the same look.”

He held her gaze. “I know.”

Masterlist | Chapter 10 | A Muse | Chapter 12

A/N: Read “A Muse” for additional story context.

Wolffe’s “I said leave.” was directly inspired by the 1999 The Mummy scene with Rick O’Connell’s “You’re in her seat. Move.”

Next chapter release – March 21st  

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

[maddiwrites]

Beauty is Pain

Pairing: Mostly Platonic!Pogues, mentions of JJ Maybank x reader 

Summary: You and Kie try to wax your legs yourselves for the first time and accidentally get yourselves trapped in a sticky situation that gets you locked in your room with JJ and Pope while you listen to Sarah and John B fight outside your door. Routledge!Reader.

Note: I got this idea from a Friends episode. If you watched the show, you’ll know exactly which one I’m talking about. Mostly wrote this without the intention of doing a JJ x reader pairing but then I got an idea(: Hope y'all like it!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning: Language, maybe angst?? 

For her birthday, Kie was gifted a hard waxing kit. At first you thought it was odd, a Kook like her was better off going to a professional to get evenly waxed brows or a perfectly clear bikini line. But when she asked you to try it out with her, you were intrigued. 

You invited her over to your messy home everyone calls the Chateau. Your brother had a date with his Kook girlfriend, Sarah Cameron, which meant you had the house all to yourself. Even though it was just Kie, your best friend of four years, you decided to clean up the place before she got there. Your house was littered in empty beer cans and ends of JJ’s rolled blunts. You noticed John B was drinking more, smoking JJ’s weed, and even sleeping in later than usual. He’s called out of work two times in the past two weeks, and if he does manage to a say hello to you, it’s a grumbled mumble of words you can barely understand. You chopped it up to him just being moody, but there was also a small part of you that wondered if something serious was going on you didn’t know about.

You tried questioning your friends about it. Kie said she had no clue but noticed his change of attitude too. Pope would get nervous when you brought up John B’s name and claimed he didn’t know what you were talking about. Before you could question him further, his dad whisked him away to clean up the store and run a couple of last minute groceries. JJ, your boyfriend, tried to tell you it was probably nothing, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with you when he talked. He busied himself with rolling another blunt or folding the tossed laundry on your bedroom floor. When you called him out on it, he got snippy and frustrated, which just led you to drop the topic because you didn’t feel like dealing with a second moody teenager. 

Kie showed up right when she said she would with the boxed waxing kit in her hand. You raised one brow up at it as you tossed the filled trash bag out the door. 

“This it?” You said.

“Yes. You haven’t shaved your legs in a while, right?”

“Yeah. It’s been two weeks like you said. JJ says my legs are looking hairier than his. He’ll barely even touch them. One time he called them monkey legs.”

Kie rolled her eyes. “Boys are such hypocrites. If they had to do half the stuff we did, they wouldn’t be complaining at all. They shouldn’t even get to complain about what women decide to do with their bodies.”

Kie continued ranting about how pain is beauty and men will never understand it unless they lived in a woman’s body for a whole month, including the week a woman’s period started, as she set up the kit. 

You worked in your room because there was more space for both of you to try your best to be comfortable. Kie plugged in the warmer on your nightstand and mixed the pink wax pellets with a flat wooden stick until it turned to a warm goo. 

“Okay,” Kie sat up against your bed’s headboard and patted her thigh to motion for you to give her your leg. “You’re up.”

“Why do I have to be first?” You asked.

You’ve never waxed your legs before. Only your brows and sometimes bikini line and even then, you usually just pluck and shave. Getting your hair professionally waxed was expensive and you tried to prioritize your purchases as much as possible to stabilize the life you and John B still had.

Kie sighed. “Fine, we’ll do it together. Let me just put the wax on you.”

You gave Kie your left leg and she slathered the warm wax up the left side of your shin. You watched as she did the same to her own leg and grimaced nervously when you felt the wax hardening against your skin. 

“Ready?” She asked with a teasing smirk.

“On the count of three?”

Kie nodded. “One.”

“Two.” “Three.”

At exactly three, Kie pulled the long waxing strip from your leg and you did the same with hers. A searing hot pain ran up you leg as Kie ripped the wax off, making you bite down a scream. 

“Fuck!” Kie screamed up into the ceiling. You looked down at both your legs. There was a thick line of red from where the wax was. “That shit hurts.”

“Let’s try it again,” You suggested. “Maybe we’ll get use to it if we keep doing it.”

Kie nodded. “Okay. Yeah, let’s try again.”

This time, Kie slid two long strips on both your left and right leg. The warm wax felt soothing. You almost wished you didn’t have to rip it off in the first place. 

“On three?” You said.

Kie nodded.

On three, you each ripped one strip off your own legs. You cursed against gritted teeth from the pain. You were wrong about getting used to it. You didn’t think you would ever be able to tolerate this pain. 

“What the hell? This has never hurt this bad.” Kie said.

“I think whoever gave this to you secretly hates you,” You said to her.

Kie sighed and looked down at the hardening wax still left on your legs. “Well, we have to finish. We’ll just rip them all off really fast.”

“Okay.”

You ripped three out of the four strips that were left at rocket speed, but they all hurt exactly the same. It felt like you were ripping more than just the hair off your leg. You wouldn’t be surprised if you looked down and saw half the layers of your skin ripped off. 

You blinked back the tears at the exact same time Pope and JJ busted into your room looking around frantically. JJ was holding a baseball bat and Pope a pan you just washed and placed on the drying wrack an hour ago. 

“What’s wrong?” Pope yelled.

“What the hell is going on?” JJ narrowed his eyes at you, surprised he wasn’t looking at you being attacked by an intruder or covered in cuts and bruises. When he first heard you screaming when he and Pope walked into your house, his heart raced a million beats per minutes. His mind wandered to all the different things that could have happened to you. He swore he was going to make you lock your door every day and night now. 

But here you were, safe and sound and laying in bed with Kie. Although he could see your labored breathing and clouded eyes, he knew you weren’t in any imminent trouble. His eyes traced from your face down to your legs where a pink strip of wax was still waiting to be pulled off. 

“We’re fine. We’re just waxing our legs.” Kie said.

“What are you doing here?” You asked your boyfriend.

“Pope said Kie was here so we came to hang with you,” JJ said absentmindedly. “I thought you were being murdered.”

“It sure felt like it,” You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered from JJ’s protective side.

JJ scoffed. “It can’t hurt that bad.”

Kie tutted her head forward. “Oh yeah? Come here.”

“What? No.”

Kie ignored him and grabbed his arm from across your body and slapped on another slab of wax. JJ hissed from the heat then visibly relaxed.

“Y/N, wanna do the honors?” Kie smirked at you.

You glared at her. “I’m not volunteering to hurt my boyfriend.”

Kie scoffed at you. “What did he call your legs again?”

You clenched your teeth together and nodded once. Kie made her point, and you remembered everything she said about how men will never understand the pain women go through to please not only themselves, but their lovers too. 

“Oh, yeah,” You said within a split second and ripped the wax off JJ’s arms. He flinched away from you, rearing his arm back far away from your reach. His mouth was opened in an ‘O’ shape and his brows pinched together. “Monkey legs.” You smirked at him.

“Fuck,” JJ shook out his arm as if you physically lit it on fire. 

“It can’t hurt that bad, right, JJ?” Kie mocked him.

Pope laughed at his blonde friend and shook his head. “Stupid.”

“Y/N, you have one left.”

“Shut up, I know,” You rolled your shoulders back like you were getting ready to run a marathon. 

“Want me to do it for you?” You nodded. JJ came up next to you and offered his hand for you to squeeze. “Okay. On three. One, two -” Before Kie even said the word three, she ripped the wax off. You closed your eyes and squeezed JJ’s hand hard, until his knuckles rolled in your closed fingers. 

“Shit, baby,” JJ crouched next to you awkwardly, trying to mend his fingers back together.

“Sorry,” You huffed. You weren’t that sorry. He called you monkey legs.

You heard the screen door open and close. Figuring it was just John B back from his date, you relaxed against your headboard again and made a promise to yourself to never wax your legs again. Beauty wasn’t worth this pain. You’d rather be monkey legs than go through that again.

Or just simply shave. 

“ - And that’s supposed to make this all okay?” Your eyes opened when you heard, not JB, but Sarah Cameron screaming right outside your room. Pope quickly closed your bedroom door as quietly as possible and held up his finger to you and Kie to be quiet. “That’s your excuse?”

Your brows pinched together in confusion and you looked at your boyfriend for some kind of answer. This was the first time you ever heard Sarah raise her voice at your brother. As far as you knew, the couple never fought.

JJ was looking down at the ground and avoiding your stare. His hands were wracked through his blonde strands and resting on the top of his head. He and Pope didn’t look as surprised as you and Kie.

“What the hell is going on?” Kie asked in a hushed whisper.

“I - I was scared. I’ve never done this before -” John B stuttered.

“Here’s some advice. Rule number one. Don’t cheat!” Sarah yelled. You swore you could hear the pain behind her voice.

You gasped in surprise and snapped your head in JJ’s direction. He wouldn’t look at you, which mean he knew about this long before you did. You put the pieces together. No wonder John B has been acting miserable. Who knows how long he’s been holding onto this. 

Well...apparently JJ and Pope know.

“What the hell...” Kie sits up straighter. “Is she serious?”

“Did you know?” You asked your boyfriend. This time he did look at you. And he looked guilty as hell.

Your eyes snapped back to the door when John B yelled back at her. “That’s gold coming from you. Did Topper use that same line when you got together with me?”

You physically cringed at the mention of Topper’s name. It may have been a low blow, but John B had a point. 

“Shit,” Kie cursed and sped walked towards the door.

You followed in her footsteps and pressed your ear against the door. One thing was for sure, you couldn’t leave your room now. You couldn’t walk in on that. But at least you could be nosy and eavesdrop.

“That’s not fair. I didn’t love him. I loved you. I left Topper for you!”

“You cheated on him.”

“Because I loved you, John B! You cheated on me because you were scared because...why? Because I’m a Kook? I’ve always been a Kook and you’ve never had a problem with that! Not until now!”

You and Kie crouched on the floor so JJ and Pope could hover over you and listen. It sounded like John B cheated on Sarah a couple weeks ago with a Pogue from your school because he got scared of his feelings for Sarah. Rafe got in your brother’s head, telling him how he will never be enough to care for Sarah when she’s no longer reliant on her father’s money. He became insecure and looked to someone who wouldn’t ever think of him like that - someone who would understand him.

John B was in the wrong and your heart cracked for the couple you once swore was going to be the first to get married out of your group of friends. Although you and Sarah had a rocky start, she quickly became the sister you never had. You got along just as much as you and Kie did. Sometimes John B would find it annoying when Sarah would come over to hang out with you instead of him, but the other part of him loved that the two most important people in his life were as close as he was with JJ. You couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. Not even another Pogue. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Sarah asked. She sounded broken and her voice cracked with exhaustion. You wanted to walk out of the room and hug her tightly while yelling at John B for being an absolute idiot. 

You heard John B sigh. “I was going to. I regretted it the second it was over and I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to leave me over some stupid mistake. JJ and Pope said -”

“JJ and Pope knew about this?”

You and Kie looked up at your boyfriends with the deadliest glare either of them have seen out of both you. JJ took a step back and held his hands up in surrender as if you were holding a loaded gun to his head. 

“I can explain -” JJ said quickly as Pope’s mouth moved silently to come up with an excuse.

“I didn’t know what to do! They said telling you would only hurt you -” John B weakly tried to explain.

“Of course it would fucking hurt me! You’ve been lying to me for weeks. You had sex with another girl!” 

You heard something shatter before a deafening silence. You waited for John B to say something, praying he was smart enough to say anything that could salvage what little of a relationship he had left.

You didn’t want to make this about you, but you wondered how many times JJ didn’t tell you something because it would hurt you. You wondered if he did anything just as detrimental to your relationship and didn’t tell you because he was afraid you would break up with him.

John B and Sarah continued to fight for another hour. You wondered if John B was worried about where you might be. If you go somewhere without telling John B, you usually text him later in the day to tell him where you are. It’s something both of you started doing ever since your father disappeared. So that if something were to happen, you would know where to look first.

You thought about jumping out your window, but your window frame was rusty. Even if you moved the window up a little bit, the wood would grind against each other, and your cover would be blown. You were getting hungry and JJ was getting antsy, probably afraid that John B would say something more to push him in the dog house. You’ve barely looked at him since John B threw him under the bus.

“Baby...” JJ said quietly to try to get your attention. “Come on, baby, let me explain.”

You glared at him and continued braiding Kie’s hair with your back to the door. 

“We had good intentions,” Pope tried to save his own ass but Kie’s look mirrored yours. “We just didn’t want them to break up.”

“Shut up, Pope,” You said for Kie. 

“We were wrong,” JJ said, making you advert your attention from Pope to your boyfriend. “I was wrong. It was my idea for John B not to tell Sarah. But the more time I spent with you, I knew I’d never be able to do that to you. It would eat at me inside, and that’s exactly what it was doing to JB. So yesterday I told him he had to tell her. Or else he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t.” Your eyes soften under his ocean blue ones and your hands fell from Kie’s hair. “I know I would.”

The corner of your lip twitched up into a lopsided grin, and just like that, you were entranced by the blonde Pogue all over again. JJ had his way with words. It’s gotten him both into certain situations and out of other bad ones. But you knew JJ like the back of your hand. You knew when he was lying. He wouldn’t look at you and if you questioned him on it he would get angry. Looking at JJ, you knew he was telling the truth. 

“Yeah, what he said.” Pope said, pointing at your boyfriend.

You and Kie rolled your eyes playfully. Pope, on the other hand, wasn’t so great with his words. That’s why it took so long for him to score Kie as his girlfriend. 

“Where are you going?” You heard John B yell. He sounded defeated.

“I can’t be here. I need...I need space.”

“Sarah...”

“Please. I just need time to think. Okay?”

Your front door slammed shut and you held your breath, waiting for John B to run after her or break more shit in your living room. But nothing like that ever came. Instead, you listened to John B cry to himself probably somewhere on the couch. 

And just like that, you didn’t care about being caught. You didn’t care if he screamed in your face for eavesdropping or calling you nosy and inconsiderate. Your brother needed you, and in that moment, it didn’t matter to you that he was the one in the wrong. At the end of the day, he was your brother. Your blood. Your family. And you’re the one who will always be his rock. 

Kie stood up with you and watched wearily as you showed yourself to your brother. John B looked up with wide eyes, surprised to see not only you but the rest of the Pogues hidden away in your room. 

He wanted to be mad, but he didn’t have the energy to be. Instead, he cried harder because he hated that you of all people knew what he did and that he was now being weak by crying about it in your living room. He wanted to be the role model you could always look up to, especially now that your dad was gone. And he thought he failed at it. 

John B was pleasantly surprised when he felt a pair of gentle arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him into a side hug as you sat on the couch next to him. Kie sat on the coffee table in front of you and rubbed John B’s knee comfortingly. Pope and JJ knew the girls were better equipped to handle John B’s emotions, so they busied themselves in the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers and pretzels and setting them down on the table next to Kie. 

Even though John B cheated and created a big mess in not only his life, but the rest of yours too, you were family. You would never leave him on his darkest day and play the blame game. You’ll help him get control. You’ll help him fix it. You’ll help him live his life to the fullest. And that’s what John B loved about you. You never turned your back on him, even when he deserved it.

The five of you spent the rest of the night drinking beer, ordering pizza, and watching comedy movies to get him to forget. Later in the night, you and Kie left to comfort Sarah. You admitted that you two heard the whole thing and would support her with whatever she chose to do about her relationship. You and Kie slept over her house and discussed the pros and cons of her staying with John B. You ate popcorn and applied face masks while Keeping Up With The Kardashians played in the background. 

“You know, Kie’s waxing kit is still at my house,” A mischievous smirk pulled at your lips. “We could cause a lot of damage while he sleeps.”

Kie encouraged the idea and Sarah laughed, feeling grateful that the two of you would even come to see her when you both had loyalties to John B. She really did love you guys and would be devastated if her relationship with John B drove you guys apart. 

In the end, Sarah ended up taking John B back. It took a while for them to get their relationship back to the way it was, but they loved each other enough to salvage it. John B worked his ass off to prove how much he loved her and Sarah appreciated every second of it.

And as for you and JJ...well you made sure to give him one really good reason as to why he should never cheat on you (;

[jeannereames]

Hi, Dr. Reames! I just read your take on Song of Achilles and it got me thinking. Do you think there might be a general issue with the way women are written in mlm stories in general? Because I don't think it's the first time I've seen something like this happen.

And my next question is, could you delve further into this thing you mention about modern female authors writing women? How could we, beginner female writers, avoid falling into this awful representations of women in our writing?

Thank you for your time!

[It took a while to finish this because I wrote, re-wrote, and re-wrote it. Still not sure I like it, but I need to let it go. It could be 3xs as long.]

I’ll begin with the second half of the question, because it’s simpler. How do we, as women authors, avoid writing women in misogynistic ways?

Let me reframe that as how can we, as female authors, write negative (even quite nasty) female characters without falling into misogynistic tropes? Also, how can we write unsympathetic, but not necessarily “bad” female characters, without it turning misogynistic?

Because people are people, not genders, not all women are good, nor all men bad. Most of us are a mix. If we should avoid assuming powerful women are all bitches, by the same token, some women are bitches (powerful or not).

ALL good characterization comes down to MOTIVE. And careful characterization of minority characters involves fair REPRESENTATION. (Yes, women are a minority even if we’re 51% of the population.)

The question ANY author must ask: why am I making this female character a bitch? How does this characterization serve the larger plot and/or characterization? WHY is she acting this way?

Keep characters complex, even the “bad guys.” Should we choose to make a minority character a “bad guy,” we need to have a counter example—a real counter, not just a token who pops in briefly, then disappears. Yeah, maybe in an ideal world we could just let our characters “be,” but this isn’t an ideal world. Authors do have an audience. I’m a lot less inclined to assume stereotyping when we have various minority characters with different characterizations.

By the same token, however, don’t throw a novel against the wall if the first minority character is negative. Read further to decide if it’s a pattern. I’ve encountered reviews that slammed an author for stereotyping without the reader having finished the book. I’m thinking, “Uh…if you’d read fifty more pages….” Novels have a developmental arc. And if you’ve got a series, that, too, has a developmental arc. One can’t reach a conclusion about an author’s ultimate presentation/themes until having finished the book, or series.*

Returning to the first question, the appearance of misogyny depends not only on the author, but also on when she wrote, even why she’s writing. Authors who are concerned with matters such as theme and message are far more likely to think about such things than those who write for their own entertainment and that of others, which is more typical of Romance.

On average, Romance writers are a professionalized bunch. They have national and regional chapters of the Romance Writers of America (RWA), newsletters and workshops that discuss such matters as building plot tension, character dilemmas, show don’t tell, research tactics, etc. Yet until somewhat recently (early/mid 2010s), and a series of crises across several genres (not just Romance), treatment of minority groups hadn’t been in their cross-hairs. Now it is, with Romance publishers (and publishing houses more generally) picking up “sensitivity readers” in addition to the other editors who look at a book before its publication.

Yet sensitivity readers are hired to be sure lines like “chocolate love monkey” do not show up in a published novel. Yes, that really was used as an endearment for a black man in an M/M Romance, which (deservedly) got not just the author but the publishing house in all sorts of hot water. Yet misogyny, especially more subtle misogyny in the way of tropes, is rarely on the radar.

I should add that I wouldn’t categorize The Song of Achilles as an M/M historical Romance. In fact, I’m not sure what to call novels about myths, as myths don’t exist in actual historical periods. When should we set a novel about the Iliad? The Bronze Age, when Homer said it happened, or the Greek Dark Age, which is the culture Homer actually described? They’re pretty damn different. I’d probably call The Song of Achilles an historical fantasy, especially as mythical creatures are presented as real, like centaurs and god/desses.

Back to M/M Romance: I don’t have specific publishing stats, but it should surprise no one that (like most of the Romance genre), the vast bulk of authors of M/M Romance are women, often straight and/or bi- women. The running joke seems to be, If one hot man is good, two hot men together are better. 😉 Yes, there are also trans, non-binary and lesbian authors of M/M Romance, and of course, bi- and gay men who may write under their own name or a female pseudonym, but my understanding is that straight and bi- cis-women authors outnumber all of them.

Just being a woman, or even a person in a female body, does not protect that author from misogyny. And if she’s writing for fun, she may not be thinking a lot about what her story has to “say” in its subtext and motifs, even if she may be thinking quite hard about other aspects of story construction. This can be true of other genres as well (like historical fantasy).

What I have observed for at least some women authors is the unconscious adoption of popular tropes about women. Just as racism is systemic, so is sexism. We swim in it daily, and if one isn’t consciously considering how it affects us, we can buy into it by repeating negative ideas and acting in prescribed ways because that’s what we learned growing up. If writing in a symbol-heavy genre such as mythic-driven fantasy, it can be easy to let things slip by—even if they didn’t appear in the original myth, such as making Thetis hostile to Patroklos, the classic Bitchy Mother-in-Law archetype.

I see this sort of thing as “accidental” misogyny. Women authors repeat unkind tropes without really thinking them through because it fits their romantic vision. They may resent it and get defensive if the trope is pointed out. “Don’t harsh my squee!” We can dissect why these tropes persist, and to what degree they change across generations—but that would end up as a (probably controversial) book, not a blog entry. 😊

Yet there’s also subconscious defensive misogyny, and even conscious/semi-conscious misogyny.

Much debate/discussion has ensued regarding “Queen Bee Syndrome” in the workplace and whether it’s even a thing. I think it is, but not just for bosses. I also would argue that it’s more prevalent among certain age-groups, social demographics, and professions, which complicates recognizing it.

What is Queen Bee Syndrome? Broadly, when women get ahead at the expense of their female colleagues who they perceive as rivals, particularly in male-dominated fields, hinging on the notion that There Can Be Only One (woman). It arises from systemic sexism.

Yes, someone can be a Queen Bee even with one (or two) women buddies, or while claiming to be a feminist, supporting feminist causes, or writing feminist literature. I’ve met a few. What comes out of our mouths doesn’t necessarily jive with how we behave. And ticking all the boxes isn’t necessary if you’re ticking most of them. That said, being ambitious, or just an unpleasant boss/colleague—if its equal opportunity—does not a Queen Bee make. There must be gender unequal behavior involved.

What does any of that have to do with M/M fiction?

The author sees the women characters in her novel as rivals for the male protagonists. It gets worse if the women characters have some “ownership” of the men: mothers, sisters, former girlfriends/wives/lovers. I know that may sound a bit batty. You’re thinking, Um, aren’t these characters gay or at least bi- and involved with another man, plus—they’re fictional? Doesn’t matter. Call it fantasizing, authorial displacement, or gender-flipped authorial insert. We authors (and I include myself in this) can get rather territorial about our characters. We live in their heads and they live in ours for months on end, or in many cases, years. They’re real to us. Those who aren't authors often don’t quite get that aspect of being an author. So yes, sometimes a woman author acts like a Queen Bee to her women characters. This is hardly all, or even most, but it is one cause of creeping misogyny in M/M Romance.

Let’s turn to a related problem: women who want to be honorary men. While I view this as much more pronounced in prior generations, it’s by no means disappeared. Again, it’s a function of systemic sexism, but further along the misogyny line than Queen Bees. Most Queen Bees I’ve known act/react defensively, and many are (imo) emotionally insecure. It’s largely subconscious. More, they want to be THE woman, not an honorary man.

By contrast, women who want to be honorary men seem to be at least semi-conscious of their misogyny, even if they resist calling it that. These are women who, for the most part, dislike other women, regard most of “womankind” as either a problem or worthless, and think of themselves as having risen above their gender.

And NO, this is not necessarily religious—sometimes its specifically a-religious.

“I want to be an honorary man” women absolutely should NOT be conflated with butch lesbians, gender non-conformists, or frustrated FTMs. That plays right into myths the queer community has combated for decades. There’s a big difference between expressing one’s yang or being a trans man, and a desire to escape one’s womanhood or the company of other women. “Honorary men” women aren’t necessarily queer. I want to underscore that because the concrete example I’m about to give does happen to be queer.

I’ve talked before about Mary Renault’s problematic portrayal of women in her Greek novels (albeit her earlier hospital romances don’t show it as much). Her own recorded comments make it clear that she and her partner Julie Mullard didn’t want to be associated with other lesbians, or with women much at all. She was also born in 1905, living at a time when non-conforming women struggled. If extremely active in anti-apartheid movements in South Africa, Renault and Mullard were far less enthused by the Gay Rights Movement. Renault even criticized it, although she wrote back kindly to her gay fans.

The women in Renault’s Greek novels tend to be either bitches or helpless, reflecting popular male perceptions of women: both in ancient Greece and Renault’s own day. If we might argue she’s just being realistic, that ignores the fact one can write powerful women in historical novels and still keep it attitudinally accurate. June Rachuy Brindel, born in 1919, author of Ariadne and Phaedra, didn’t have the same problem, nor did Martha Rofheart, born in 1917, with My Name is Sappho. Brindel’s Ariadne is much more sympathetic than Renault’s (in The King Must Die).

Renault typically elevates (and identifies with) the “rational” male versus the “irrational” female. This isn’t just presenting how the Greeks viewed women; it reflects who she makes the heroes and villains in her books. Overall, “good” women are the compliant ones, and the compliant women are tertiary characters.

Women in earlier eras who were exceptional had to fight multiple layers of systemic misogyny. Some did feel they had to become honorary men in order to be taken seriously. I’d submit Renault bought into that, and it (unfortunately) shows in her fiction, as much as I admire other aspects of her novels.

So I think those are the three chief reasons we see women negatively portrayed in M/M Romance (or fiction more generally), despite being written by women authors.

------------------------------------

*Yeah, yeah, sometimes it’s such 2D, shallow, stereotypical presentation that I, as a reader, can conclude this author isn’t going to get any better. Also, the publication date might give me a clue. If I’m reading something published 50 years ago, casual misogyny or racism is probably not a surprise. If I don’t feel like dealing with that, I close the book and put it away.

But I do try to give the author a chance. I may skim ahead to see if things change, or at least suggest some sort of character development. This is even more the case with a series. Some series take a loooong view, and characters alter across several novels. Our instant-gratification world has made us impatient. Although by the same token, if one has to deal with racism or sexism constantly in the real world, one may not want to have to watch it unfold in a novel—even if it’s “fixed” later. If that’s you, put the book down and walk away. But I’d just suggest not writing a scathing review of a novel (or series) you haven’t finished. 😉

[liberty-barnes]

Hi Libby!

I'm curious to find out what's your take on Sam and Aaron Taylor-Johnson's marriage. Because I really believe she groomed him.

She knew he was a teenager and went after him anyway. She said there was no funny business happening during the set of 'Nowhere Boy', but then she also said that everyone knew that's something's up. She's also his boss at that time, so sus. People keep saying that, 'Oh, he's legal' and 'Oh, he's a grown man'. It is absolutely irking, because had the roles been reversed, it would face double the amount of scrutiny it is facing now. Instead of 'He got lucky', it would be, 'He's a monster, a pedophile' or 'He should be in jail'. This belief never benefited anyone; it only strips survivors, male survivors of abuse specifically of validation, and proper rights to justice.

Anyway, there are so many shady details that come with these two, I can't type them all.

Thanks for reading my very angry thoughts at 11 pm GMT+8 xx

hi lovely!

ooh, smart and controversial discourse, love that, you're welcome to rant in my inbox whenever you want, doll.

so, i didn't follow his career very closely before or after the mcu, but i did see that and it made me a bit icky so i did some research at the time. in my opinion, if you don't agree with something, you have to really look into it and ask yourself "does this make me uncomfortable cause i don't like it" or "does this make me uncomfortable cause something fishy's going on" and it did strike me as kind of strange.

the double standards in the industry when it comes to dating are undeniable, just like in the rest of society. younger men are expected to chase after older, richer women, cause it makes the patriarchy feel like they "tamed another beast". even though it's not right, married women are seen as less powerful than celibate ones, because it's still common for the husband to have control.

i think that's why most people skimmed over that. it didn't bother men cause "good for him, he got himself a rich, hot beast" and for those who didn't like it, the "he's legal" argument was there.

so let me tell you straight up what i think about that "they're legal" argument. people that use "they're legal" as an excuse scare me, cause for them, as long as the law says it's okay, then it's okay. they don't question it, they don't research it, they just follow like nicely trained monkeys. there's nothing more dangerous to the free world than people who blindly follow orders, that's what makes dictatorships thrive. in order for this to be a democracy, people need to question, to research, to demand explanations when things seem to be done in a bad way.

cause that's a bit of what this was. he was legal, but barely so. he wasn't even old enough to drink in the us (which, sucks to be you btw, europe's much better in that sense) and he was supposedly old enough to understand he loved a woman who a)is 23 years older, b) was his boss and c)was his boss in his breakthrough movie. i mean, didn't even know that aaron taylor-johnson was his married name, cause i never knew him when he was just aaron johnson.

that's all kinds of weird.

so if we ignore the age part, cause hey, we're not here to judge the age difference, that's not my point. she was his boss which always makes me cringe cause that's bit unprofessional, but Nowhere Boy was aaron's breakthrough movie, it's the one that really got him out there. could he have gotten another breakthrough? yes, i believe he's a very talented actor and he would've still made it to where he is today, perhaps by another way. but he didn't.

he had to be thankful to her and admire her for giving him a shot, especially being that young, so was it love at first? i'm not so sure.

it might have been admiration, gratefulness, and i doubt he was the one holding/sharing the reins in the relationship at first.

is it possible that he fell in love with her afterwards? absolutely, the foundations over which they built their love and relationship are just shaky cause what happens if one day he realises that "hey, it sounds a bit like i was lured into a relationship and stayed there cause i didn't know better"? they met, got engaged a year after, and it might be a bit fast for his age.

so yeah, i forgot where i was going with this, but to sum it up, there was definitely a weird start to their relationship, and i don't know how it's gonna evolve.

but at the end of the day, they've been together for over ten years and both seem happy in their relationship, so i don't wanna judge them if it works.

it's a weird situation cause half of me is screaming "grooming, weird start, what even is legal age?" and the other is screaming "they're happy, let them love".

so yeah, what i think about their relationship is that i honestly don't know. i think i'd rather focus on his career, watch interviews, and keep an eye out for signs of discomfort when their relationship. i hope they have people in their life with enough critical thinking to intervene if necessary, but until that's necessary, i guess we'll just support him in any way we're comfortable.

hope that helped cause i'm not even sure i understand half of what i wrote lmaooo

feel free to send me more of these, i love it when you guys make me think

-Love, Miah

[viktor-noctis]

The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll McSh*tFace

This is my review for the film: The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll McShitFace.

Enjoy.

Tagging @christopherleefan because I think you might enjoy this? Also, I wrote a fic for Taste of Fear (or Scream of Fear for us Americans), and you can expect one for this film as well.

Pre-face: Okay, okay……………………………… Let me compose myself.

………..

………………..

……………………….

……………………………..

Alright, hit the play button.

London 1874 – I paused just to be sure this was the actual date when the book was written.

It was originally published in 1886.

We’re off to a roaring start.

Ew. Children.

Playing in a garden, yep, this is about what I remember.

Little boy shoves girl’s flowers to the ground, and McShitFace talks about “dumb human animals” when referring to children. We agree on that, at least.

“Play out when they cannot speak out.” Jekyll McShitFace suggests they’ve mentally blocked the ability to speak, due to the fact that they are letting another part of them be free to express itself…. What a load of garbage.

You resigned? Here I thought they fired you for being a creep. The fact that Ernst believes he really is a genius makes me want to punch something.

They’ve been married for six years??

No servants, no friends, and Jekyll has cut all professional ties to study the mind… Like a madman. Yeah, I can see Kitty hating this.

Beyond Good and Evil? Beyond the reach of society?

“A very dangerous man, my friend.” No shit, Ernst. Jekyll is suggesting the ‘higher man’ is the one within, while Ernst suggests that the weaker man maybe the ‘evil’ one. Or what we deem ‘evil’. Jekyll, like some, has come to some crackpot conclusion that by drawing out the ‘evil’ man, the ‘weaker’ man within him, that he can isolate and destroy him… Or something to that effect.

Jekyll never answers Ernst when he asks if he’s used it on anything other than a monkey and I find that telling.

Paul is here. Ernst is leaving.

Jekyll is quite charitable to Paul, if nothing else, and Kitty is putting up a marvelous front. Kitty even tries to get him to spend time with her here, but I have a feeling she knows where this is going. She’s probably done this a million times. This is another for the till.

I can tell Kitty is tired of this. Jekyll spends night and day in the lab. All the time. Yeah, that’d wear on most women. Considering the time period, this is all very strange. Then again, this is a ‘Strange Case’, or it was supposed to be.

Kitty telling him about Jekyll shouting to himself in his room, along with a strange voice that wasn’t his own, for an entire night… “Married to a man of great talent.” Ernst, my dude…

Kitty’s asking if he is insane enough to be sent away. Ernst says he isn’t: “we must both try to help him.” Right.

Christopher Lee! Damnit, he’s so tall. How tall is this actress?

They’re so cute. Terrible, but cute.

The top of her head reaches his nose or so. He’s a damn good kisser…

Kitty looks lovely in blue.

And is an extrovert.

Jekyll is an introvert.

Still hate him.

Don’t bash the girl for liking to go out. Or ask her to: “take the evening off”.

“I need you tonight, Kitty. Stay.” That’s not creepy. After years of being ignored, that’s not creepy in the slightest.

Okay, this might be just me, but… I see Kitty’s perspective. I sort of see Jekyll’s? It’s a grey area. I’ve paused it to explain my reasoning –

Kitty, is an extrovert, as I’ve stated. She gets her energy from going out, being around people, and having a good time. That’s great. Good for her, you have fun girl, and take your boytoy (he really is, as often as he gets in money trouble) with you. Jekyll is decidedly not. To say they are incompatible would be an understatement.

Kitty is the type of woman who glows under attention, who craves it from both her partner and others. But mostly, her partner. Enter Paul, who’s proven to be attached to her mostly through money, but there’s so much more there. Again, I love these two, because they’re so terribly flawed, but so clearly in love.

Jekyll, meanwhile, cut all attachment to “live like a hermit in the center of London”. Ernst’s words straight from the beginning of the film. I bet you Kitty was stifled, for years, before Paul came along. Now, not much is revealed of the how Jekyll became friends with him, when he did, or even why he did, but I want to bet it was during University or something. That seems the most likely theory, given Jekyll’s nature.

The Jekyll side is a bit more convoluted. Again, I don’t think Kitty is being unfair here. There’s no telling how long she stayed lonely, cooped up in that house (reference back to when Ernst talked about no friends, no company, and no servants), and was just… bored, sad, and upset.

Ernst even mentioned the house being ‘in ruins’.

She calls him selfish for making it such an issue. I get the feeling he sort of deserves it. Also, she’s in love with Paul now, so that adds another layer to their relationship not working and being incredibly strained.

“I’m not going to insult my friends for the sake of your whims.” Is what her argument amounted to. Again, the movie is making her sound like the selfish one, but you really have to take into account the history, nature, and aspects of each character. In doing so, I don’t really think she is. I think she’s in love with another man, bound to a farce of a marriage, and is doing the best she can by not staying near her creepy husband.

And yep, human experimentation time.

Yeah, go ahead McShitFace, sit at your desk and wait to become The Literal Worst.

Party time. I’m shuddering. Too. Many. People. Ew.

They’re both terrible.

I love them.

Awful.

Paul complains of being bored, and yet she is bored doing the things he likes. They jab and jibe. He looks at another woman. They jab and jibe some more.

They’re bickering like they’re already married.

Get a room.

Terminate their relationship?

They bring up their attachment, again, always with the money. Kitty likes a man free of shame, Paul thinks he might lose her to a man who had even less. Hahahaha. You nerds. You’re in too deep and you both know it.

The Literal Worst has arrived. And he’s uglier than ever.

The Sphinx? That’s the name of this trash heap ballroom?

Hyde looks like a Tool. Barely two minutes on screen and he’s got the Creep Smirk going.

Hoes do not stand together, I see.

Paul and Kitty smiling at each other, having a grand old time. I love them.

Hyde showing his true colors already, by eyeing up Kitty, while dancing with another girl (though I’m pretty sure she’s a prostitute. Or just a woman who gets around, living off other men’s money). Wow, he also says some not-so-nice things to her before heading after Paul and Kitty, who’s having a hell of a time. Paul can also be a jackass –

“Don’t drink too much tonight, my darling.” She says it with such tenderness, while taking the glass from his hand.

“Cunning little kitty cat. Rather a dull husband than a drunken lover, eh?” Paul’s already slurring. He’s entered cad mode. Feel free to kick him to the curve, my dear. He deserves to nurse his hangover by himself.

She just looks disappointed.

Kitty’s creep alert is going off. Listen to it, honey. Run. Run, far away.

She’s trying to take Paul home.

Then going to dance with Hyde. Fuck. Kitty, listen to your Creep Radar.

Friendship with Kitty? Honey. No. Run. “Can I trust you?”

?? Kitty. No. Do not trust the creep.

Prostitute girl is back, claiming Hyde tried to force her, and some dude wants recompense. Kitty just wants to go home. Paul refuses to leave, to help Hyde.

Has common sense become a commodity that only Kitty is buying??

“Give the lady a few sovereigns, and there’ll be no trouble.” Yeah, sounds like a prostitute. Kitty bids them all goodnight. Paul looks sad to see her go. Should have thought about that before you acted the bastard.

Hyde tells them to go to hell and take the trollop with him. Dude dives at them, Paul knocks him out… And Hyde keeps hitting him. Paul stops him, telling him not to kill him, and then asks him if he’s ill.

“Let me alone, Jekyll. Let me alone.” Dumbass. Jekyll voice coming out of Hyde. That’s not creepy. Paul looks amused by the creep show. Hyde leaves the place, screaming, and being weird.

Lots of voice changing. This actor is actually really good. Jekyll realizes what he did, because Hyde says: “I will be back, Jekyll. I will return.”

Jekyll: “Never. Never.”

So he knows this was a bad idea?

Goes into Kitty’s room, whose reading, and she starts talking about her ‘party’. She wants to go to sleep. Jekyll still comes closer, being a creep. Creep Radar is blaring.

“I need you, Kitty. I need you desperately.” And he comes in, trying to kiss at her, mouthing at her neck. Like a creep. I know this is a parallel to later in the film (yeah, it’s terrible), when Hyde is in control, but I still hate this.

I had to pause during the next scene to do a deep character analysis –

Kitty pushes him off, telling him she’s tired, and even says “please”. As if she should have to beg him to keep his damn creep hands to himself. He still has a wild, crazy look in his eye, and asks: “What are you really like, Kitty?”

“I’m your wife, that’s all I am.” She answers it with such evenness, barely disturbed, and it reminds me of what Paul said to her –

“From perfect wife to perfect mistress, and back again to perfect wife.”

This movie has a lot to do with the masks we wear. We change them, depending on who we’re talking to: family, friends, strangers, lovers, etc. All the different relationships we have require a mask, shadowing the core of who we are, because letting someone see everything of ourselves is too terrifying to consider. We don’t show our true selves out of fear, pride, or some other convoluted mixture of emotions.

However, every mask has a basis, a template of origin.

I feel as if, at some point, Kitty really did love Jekyll. She must have. She married him not for his intelligence, not for his money, but because she genuinely loved him. Kitty loves too deeply, too strongly, and has all the hallmarks of a woman who has been burned by that depth of attachment.

“It’s my fault, a woman who shows her feelings always loses dignity.” Kitty says this during the first bit of the dance she has with Paul, which reveals so much of her character. She doesn’t look at him when she says it, the pain of her admittance is too much, and she shies away from anyone witnessing it. Even Paul.

Her relationship with Paul is strained right now. It’s weird. It seems like neither of them knows where it’s going, too afraid to continue, but even more horrified by the prospect of letting the other go.

When speaking of breaking their ‘arrangement’ (look up ‘affair’ in the dictionary), Kitty suggested Paul wouldn’t be able to get along financially without her. Paul rebuffed her, saying that Jekyll and he had been friends for years, and she was just his dutiful wife… despising him.

There’s an ease between them that feels years old, yet I doubt it was from the get-go of hers and Jekyll’s marriage. No, she probably did hate him quite a bit, in the beginning. But there’s a thin line between love and hate, one that can be crossed with loneliness. I like to think it was physical at first, a build up of tension between a woman caged in a house, and watching this man go out and spend her husband’s money.

It was probably Paul who convinced her to come out with him one evening. Fuck it. Jekyll wants to stay in his lab all night? Well, why should you stay too? Kitty probably said no at first. Why would she go out with this smarmy bastard, who gambles, who sleeps with anything that has legs, and drinks himself silly? But then there’s the wanting, the listening to her husband tinker away, watching life go by without her…

She probably went to Jekyll. She tried to talk to him, have dinner with her in the house that night. Without any servants, she’s learned to cook. He makes a point of trying to be nice but talks about his work… Always his work. She asks him to kiss her, as if that’s something she should have to nearly beg for. And what did he do? On the verge of some great breakthrough?

“Not right now, Kitty. I’m busy.”

Kitty, who is strong, vibrant, and beautiful, is not enough to stir a man from the wake of progress. From pride.

Humiliation and defeat, a loathing that breaks through love, stuffs her chest and nearly throttles her on the spot. Retreating, glassy eyed to her room. She probably cried, mourning her broken heart.

After that, she demands to go with Paul.

There’s probably a touch of shock, then a knowing smirk. He’s probably seen lots of women with husbands who ignore them, falling into his kind of life, dancing and drinking and laughing their nights away.

He’s not ready for this one.

Alright, hitting play again –

“But the woman inside of you, is that woman my wife?”

No. No, she’s not. She belongs with Paul.

Stop shaking her. She’s right. Get out.

Take your: “Who am I?”s and get the fuck out.

Cut to Paul being a cad again. Ugh. Go home to Kitty, you absolute tool bag.

He and Hyde are sitting at a table in The Sphinx with two bimbos. Wonderful.

Hyde is a creep. I will say that no less than ten times in this review. I probably already have.

The fuck is this?

They’re doing something weird.

Really weird.

A snake charmer dance.

Am I to assume they wish us to believe that snake is venomous?

Okay, to be fair, all snakes and spiders are venomous, but the potency of their venom varies in such a way that they effect most human bodies on different levels. I say ‘most’ because you can be allergic to something, and receive a far more harrowing experience than 98% of the population.

However, that does not excuse the fact that the creature in question is a ball python and is therefore basically harmless. Minus some swelling and bruising.

I had to pause to write that, okay, playing again –

Yeah, this poor animal is being abused by being forced into a ‘sensual dance’ with this woman. ‘Tigress’, they call her, kill me now. Paul says she’s exclusive to the elite. Kill me twice over. This dance is the worst. That poor snake is confused.

Paul is looking worriedly at Hyde as he stares, transfixed, at this woman. Dude, he wants to get bitch slapped, let him.

Christopher Lee’s eyebrows are doing things to me. Paul is the real eye candy in this shit show.

UGHASDKFJASDKFNAMSDKFJNASDKF

Jkljasdfklajsdklfansdkfnj

Klasjeirkmaskdfnjkasdjf

Klasdmfnkasndf

JKLASJDKLFNASKLDFNJ

UGH

SHE

SHE PUT

THE SNAAEK

HEAD

IN

MOTUH

WHY? WHY? WHY would –

WOULD uuo –

That poor animal.

Tell me that was fake.

She did not really put that poor creature’s head in her mouth.

This is abuse.

Not to mention, really gross. Salmonella, and a million other diseases could potentially exist on the skin of a reptile. Do not handle reptiles and then touch your face, or eat, or put any part of their body inside your mouth. Wash hands after handling, thank you.

Disgusting.

And people are clapping. And cheering.

Is this what passes for ‘exotic’ in the 1700s????

Maybe it’s my modern cynicism, but I am not impressed. I am shuddering in revulsion.

Mostly because of the snake in mouth bit.

Gods.

End me.

I’m about to shriek.

“Forget it, dear boy. She’s not in the prep-school class. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Paul. Paul.

Have you ever considered:

She’s blind.

You’re gorgeous.

And you have a gorgeous woman waiting on you at home.

Why do you bother with the bimbos?

Girl on the right is pretty, okay, she’s like… an 8. Chick on the left is… also pretty, but like a 7.

Kitty is a damn 16, she blows them out of the water. There is no competition. When you’ve already had it all, why bother even looking at anything less? She gets bumped up to a 30 for the fact that she has a brain, she snarks, she jabs with the best of them, and is not afraid to leave you to your well-deserved hangover.

I will fight for Kitty’s honor.

Paul. I’m about to throw down.

He calls the dancer over – Maria – and I can already tell he’s going to –

Yep. Be a bastard.

“She only uses Christian names in bed.”

He deserved that drink to the face.

Even Hyde looks surprised. Then impressed.

Pft – HA! I have to quote this:

“Well, ladies, it seems that I must entertain you both.” He says, while soaked with what one can assume is scotch. “I trust that you will not be too disappointed.” Girl on the right looks like she expects to be disappointed. Ms. Left has her game face on.

“Oh, we’ll just have to manage.” Left is already up and at it.

“Somehow or other.” Right is playing along for now.

“Thank you for your confidence.” Paul’s reply does not sound confident in the slightest. He follows them through a curtain doorway. I’d say, ‘poor bastard’, but he doesn’t deserve my sympathy right now.

Hyde is creeping on Maria now.

“Keep away from him, he is dangerous.”

Yeah. To medium sized rodents.

Actually, considering Hyde is nothing more than a big, smelly, greasy, slimy rat –

Nah, wouldn’t want to give the poor thing indigestion.

“Your friend talked to me like a common whore.”

I assumed you two knew each other? I don’t know, they are weird and vague on that. Alan says he’s tried, then claims what names she uses in bed, and she did throw the drink on him afterwards. I’ve no idea.

I will give this to Hyde: He is a smooth talker. He is also, however, still a bastard.

And the makeup they used on this actress is not flattering at all. I’ve seen pictures of her, and she was beautiful. They somehow made her look hideous. ‘Impertinent’ is a word, though not quite the one I would use for this piece of garbage.

I love putting subtitles on. They’re so dumb.

(Soft sensual music) my ass.

Of course they shag. Why wouldn’t they?

She’s given him an in, now… “You do not buy, you do not beg.” A man who ‘takes’. No, do not give him that.

“A nice, cold wife.” I’m so furious.

They do have a servant! An old woman. Probably a concession after years.

“Mr. Hyde.” Creep.

‘Nanny’.

“Lately, this house has become unused to visitors.”

“The wife of a recluse…”

Trying to sweet talk a woman in love will not go over well for you.

Paul’s??? Paul’s friendship. What a save.

“The question of trespass hardly arises. Mr. Allen has no property rights in me.”

And as for Henry: “Henry leads his own life. He doesn’t seek my approval, and I don’t seek his. Is that wrong?”

OOOOOOFFFFF.

Sweet talk till you talk like that.

“To the boredom of being a neglected wife, and the humiliation of being a rejected mistress.”

It almost felt like she was into the flirting till he said that, but I still get the feeling she wouldn’t have slept with him. You can enjoy flirting, some people do it for a living, but not the act that comes after. As I said before, Kitty wears many masks. This one is short-lived. Hyde has insulted her, and the change in her demeanor is like a switch.

Kitty loves too deeply, to be reminded of her first failing, and the possibility of her loss of Paul is a kick in the teeth. Is she not worth loving? Is science, money, knowledge, other women – is she just no match? Can she have nothing out of this?

“I must say, you are honest. A trifle obvious, perhaps, but honest.” And too close to the surface, too close to the proverbial nail. Kitty is genuinely afraid of losing Paul, and it shows. She’s clinging onto something she feels she can’t hold onto, whether for her already damaged pride or because she doesn’t want to be hurt again. Her face only really started to shift when he said mistress.

“My great affair has already begun.” She’s pulling herself so easily from his arms. He talks about great love since he felt her in his arms, and she just turns away with this casual walk of a knowing woman.

“It was well advanced before ever you appeared on the scene.” She looks almost proud, though there’s still this edge to her. She expects it to crash and burn. She’s just waiting for it.

“I wonder what is the special quality in a man as weak, unscrupulous, and utterly unreliable as Paul Allen?” This really bothers him. Hyde is essentially Jekyll unchained, a copy of the inner, dark urges of one man laid bare, and given free run of the place… And he’s a total rat bastard.

And Kitty is smiling. Kitty is overjoyed.

“I don’t question your description, Mr. Hyde.” She’s radiating with delight. Even that description of Paul in all his awful glory stirs nothing but happiness in her.

“Well then, but why…” And he’s reaching for her, stroking his fingers over her back. It’s this odd mimicry of how Jekyll tried to hold her that night. Ugh.

“I merely happen to love him.” Yes! SHE SAID IT!

“Love? Love is an idiocy!” And she’s laughing again. I’m beginning to believe Kitty uses laughter to cover her pain. Hyde/Jekyll McShitFace uses rage.

“An idiocy of mine, perhaps, but a fact.” Then we get this beautiful close up of her face, the vindication with which she says it has me living –

“I love Paul Allen.” Love, you must be so blind and so wonderful.

(Ominous music). As Hyde descends back to his basement to turn back into Jekyll. Back to the sewer, your garbage monster.

Ernst is here. Okay, something weird is happening again. Jekyll has a heightened metabolism. Probably from sustaining two rat bastards instead of one. I’ve no idea how much time has elapsed, but quite a bit I’m guessing. A week? A month? Another year? Nah, probably more like a week or so.

Jekyll’s life is “burning out at a much faster rate.”

Kitty is fed up with being Paul’s ‘bank clerk’. Yeah, let’s bring Henry into this. ‘Let him deal with life’s little problems and leave us its gaiety’? You are a cad. Why do you love him again, Kitty? You can do better.

She’s sick of being used.

“How can you talk of our love in this way?” Love? Is this the first time you bring it up to her? While asking for money? Aklsjdfkasjdf

Men are annoying.

“You hypocrite!” Thank you.

Debts of honor, my pale ass.

He’s going to Henry.

Ernst knows he’s addicted to something. He says it’s more damning, whatever it is.

At least Paul is honest. Jekyll is being cold to him now. He knows about him and Kitty now. He goes back to his work desk. ‘Going away’. Right. Run.

Paul gets nothing. Notes something must be wrong with him.

Kitty is worried about Paul now.

And fuck – Jekyll is giving full power of his shit to Hyde. His estate, his money, his assets, everything goes to Hyde. This happened in the book, of course, but this completely cuts Kitty off as well.

Also, he even says he’s using Hyde to ‘learn all he can’. You pretty much know it all. Kitty, your wife, is in love with your ‘friend’, Paul. It’s not that hard. You’ve effectively been gaslighting them from the beginning.

“For do I want to return to a life of frustrated isolation and loveless misery?”

I.

I have…

So many problems with this statement alone.

You left your wife, even said it yourself, neglected. For years. So much so, that she’s alone as well. Of course she searched for something beyond you, when you chose to isolate yourself first… And you know what? I’m happy for Kitty, she found something, someone to love and love her in return. Is it perfect? No, but –

Anything and everything can be traced back to you, you sorry sack of literal shit. I’m about to lose it. He’s reaping what he’s sewn, and now he’s trying to escape it.

I’m so pissed off.

He drinks more stuff. Great. The return of The Literal Worst is upon us.

Wow… Never heard Christopher Lee say that before –

“Damn bad luck you’ve been having, I hear, Allen, old man.” Some man comments on the state of Paul’s life, which has gone to hell in a handbasket.

“Damn bad luck.” Paul’s agreement seems to taste as bad as the cigarette he’s smoking. I wonder how many are his, in that overflowing mound of ash and stumps, at the center of the table.

“Oh, well, luck’s a bitch, old boy.” Not sure that was a saying yet, but maybe this is the one that starts the trend.

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so.” Paul looking like he’d like to swallow down the rest of the decanter on the table, with Hyde being the creep that just walked in. “I’ve always had the best possible luck with bitches.”

I just about spit my tea. Not even kidding.

“Almost always, anyway.”

You’re terrible. Kitty should leave without either of you.

How is this review over 4K words? Who’s still reading this?

“Women aren’t a weakness they’re a recurrent necessity.” Paul. Paul. What are you doing?

‘Oldest mistress’.

Paul. You’re awful with money and it’s obvious.

They’re going to go out on the town. Like bastards. Hyde is The Literal Worst.

Snap shots of London’s underbelly during the 1700s… Brawling, lots of drinking and bad singing, and… smoking? Opium? Hooka? Who the fuck knows anymore.

Paul’s out. Hyde is doing the 100-yard Creep Stare.

Paul is out making debts again. ‘Honorable’ ones, at least.

Now he’s out of ideas. It’s been a week. He spent all that money – 5,000 in a week. Ouch. “But you, are a fool.” We agree on that. That is the only thing Hyde, and I will ever agree on.

“And I’ll try Kitty.”

Ha.

Haha.

You can see the wheels turning unpleasantly in Paul’s head. His brow is doing that furrowed thing when he’s confused.

“What the devil do you mean, Hyde?” You know what he means, you just don’t want him to go on. You’re hoping he doesn’t mean what you think he means.

“Well, that should be simple enough for even you to understand.” Again, insulting people while mixing in kind words, though his next ones are far from kind: “I am telling you to obtain your mistress for me.”

Paul is rising out of his chair. His brow is still doing that furrowed thing, but it has gotten even deeper. The rage is coming, a wave that was slow to foam, but quick to rise.

“You unspeakable devil.” There’s still some disbelief, but there’s no denying the shock.

Hyde is doing the creep laugh with a – “How very amusing.” Now you can see the anger, it’s chiseling its way into his features, hard and sharp.

“Paul Allen, breaker of every law in the moral code, is shocked into morality.”

Full blown: I’d punch the ever-living hell out of you. I’m about to.

“You vile, disgusting degenerate.” His lips are quivering. He’s barely holding it together.

“Be rational, my friend.” You’re pushing him far beyond ‘rational’. “I’m asking for the temporary loan of a proven adulteress, of whom you yourself have grown somewhat tired.”

First of all: fuck you. Second of all: Kitty already said he has no property rights to her.

“You go back to hell!” Paul. Punch. Him.

Oh… Wait… Yeah, he’d probably get in trouble for that. And then be sent to jail. And I doubt he wants to be in there while Kitty is out here with this lunatic. Yeah, running out before you lose it seems wise.

Still should have throttled him a bit.

Now what is The Literal Worst doing? Going back to the house…

And sneaking into Kitty’s room. You creep. I’ve never wished to jump through a television screen more.

They only have one servant, ‘Nanny’, is her name.

He’s blackmailing her. With Paul’s notes. Fuck. ‘Buy him back’.

She’s laughing. Yes, that is Kitty’s response to being uncomfortable.

“You utterly repel me.” YES! Go girl! She laughs as he storms out, tossing the notes away. Then she closes and locks the door, pressing her back to it. She was probably more than a little terrified.

Hyde assaults a homeless man, shoving him down, and steps over him. That was in the book… Then back to some cesspit that Paul showed him.

There’s something weird going on here with Hyde and this girl.

Cut to Kitty and Paul snuggling. And kissing. This is the quality content I came for. He’s wearing the same shirt from earlier… Which means he probably took a good long walk, had a small conniption, and then went straight to her.

“Why does love make us behave so hatefully to one another?” Yeah, well, Paul has been the terrible one here.

“Because we’re cowards, my darling. We want everything.” I’m not sure what Paul’s deal is, why he is the way he is… He could just be an ivy league guy who grew up, not knowing how to handle money, he might not come with as much baggage as the rest of them.

Why can’t they just be happy and cute?

Go away? Start a new life? Yeah, do that.

Right now.

Leave.

Before Jekyll McShitFace gets back.

Ah, they planned to mug Hyde, using the girl as a means to dupe him. Seems about right. Also deserved.

Ah, Kitty is leaving Jekyll. About bloody time. Also, the wrong time, considering the whole Hyde business.

Jekyll has destroyed his drugs, though admits that Hyde’s grip is too powerful. Right. As if Ernst didn’t warn you it was an addiction. “No degeneracy is low enough to satisfy him.” You mean you, right? Because, he is, after all, you.

The kids are back in the garden. This can only end well.

Oh, they’re leaving. Good…

Paul and Kitty are making out again. Good for them.

Jekyll shoved a kid. Bad for him.

Same little girl who’s always trying to give him flowers. Yeah, he’s losing it. Rushing back into lab to pen a last will and testament one can hope –

Nope, no such luck.

‘Exorcise him’. Right.

Handwriting switch. Interesting.

Paul admitting to Kitty he’s in trouble with Hyde.

If looks could kill.

Hyde lures them with an invitation from Jekyll, about their last evening together being ‘gay’.

Kitty doesn’t want to go, she’s frightened. Listen to your gut.

Paul wants to stay, because they think he’ll settle. Kitty agrees.

Fuck.

Cabaret. Ugh.

Someone get me out of here. Lots of underwear. This is painful.

Hyde making plans to meet with Maria before meeting with Paul and Kitty, who’s dressed for a funeral. Paul. Don’t. Go. Of course, he does.

Up to Maria’s room. Piss it.

More cabaret. I’ll hand it to you ladies; you can cartwheel and front flip. That is impressive. Also, I’m completely serious, because the amount of muscles it takes to do that are insane. Flexibility is also key. Congrats ladies.

Paul meets with Hyde.

“Surely we can keep Kitty out of this.” He knows something’s up and didn’t want to involve her. Smart, but also stupid.

“Hardly.” Hyde’s reply sets my teeth on edge.

Paul. Don’t go into that room. To meet him in private. Fuck me. Backwards. Paul.

A ball python. How dangerous. Paul. There’s a table right there. Squish the fucker. I mean, I’m against animal cruelty, but in the case of the story, that thing is supposed to be deadly. Squish. Squish. Otherwise, leave him the fudge alone and he’ll leave you alone.

Kitty… Don’t go with the creepy man. Listen to your Creep Radar.

Paul’s dead. Kitty doesn’t deserve this. Don’t –

I hate this. I hate this. Paul is literally dead in the other room.

I’m writing so much fix-it fic for this, you won’t believe.

This review is 18 pages long. If you’ve made it this far, may the gods have mercy on you, because my wrath at this point is endless.

Maria is in Jekyll’s house. He told her to go back to that house, put on Kitty’s clothes –

“The pattern of justice is complete.”

Rot. In. Hell.

Paul and Kitty deserved better. They deserved each other.

Kitty waking up, gods’ I hate this. She’s a wreck. Her hair, her clothes… You can tell she’s about to be sick. She’s barely holding it together. There’s a fucking note… A note leading her to the snake… She finds Paul dead. She’s already shellshocked. Out onto the balcony…

“Paul.” Her last word.

She plummets over the balcony, through the glass roof, and –

Cut to Maria saying: “I love you Edward.”

“I can’t love.” We can agree on two things. Those two things.

“I must be free.” Right before murdering Maria.

Jekyll finally takes back over, rightfully horrified, and runs back to his lab. With three corpses under his belt.

What an interesting mirror effect…

“Why must you destroy?”

“I must be free.”

Then we go back-and-forth, about who murdered, who revenged, and who was wronged. They weren’t in Hyde’s way, but Jekyll was. He doesn’t ‘feel’. Yeah, right…

Hyde is every dark, terrible impulse Jekyll has had, given life and form. His desire to be free, to run rampant, has been a desire of Jekyll’s since the beginning. Free the beast so he could kill it… Then proceeded to twist it to gaslight his wife, his friend, and everyone else. He was living a life, a lie, a sham. The desire for freedom from persecution for our desires, to be allowed to do what we want, when we want, without judgement has been an overarching theme in all of society. People are persecuted for what pronouns they want to use, for how they eat, how they dress, how they talk –

However, because Hyde is merely a reflection, one can assume his desire for freedom is mirrored in Jekyll’s continued desire for the same. Jekyll wants to continue to exist, so Hyde must desire to exist in turn. He’s still composed completely of Jekyll’s desires.

He says he doesn’t feel, yet there is a desperation, a fear in his voice when he says: “You must lose, Jekyll.” Because he’s afraid he won’t. He’s horrified by the idea of being trapped forever, of their relation being found out…

Cut to Inspector being on the case at The Sphinx.

Wow, a lady in gentleman’s clothing runs The Sphinx. Nice.

Jekyll trying to leave a letter to Ernst. Yeah, that’ll go over well. He calls a street cleaner over to take his note to Ernst, but of course, Hyde has to upset that plan.

Again, I give props to the actor for the massive amount of voice switching, and playing the ‘tortured’ scientist, and the King of the Creeps.

Hyde is about to kill this street cleaner. Mate, why did you come into this guy’s house to randomly move something for him? He shoots him in the back, of course…

The Inspector arrives! Not in time…

Hyde is about to torch the place. Of course he is.

He puts up a performance for the police, saying Jekyll is nuts… Whole place is on fire, with street cleaner acting as a sub-in for the body of Jekyll.

I swear, if this fucker gets away with this, I will riot.

Is nobody seeing the Creepiest Grin of the Century?

No, of course not, they’re trying to fight a raging fire.

And of course, there’s a court hearing over the whole thing. Jekyll went nuts. True. He was addicted to drugs. Also true, though it’s not any kind ever seen before. Sought vengeance for imagined slights. True again.

“Fortunate to have escaped – “

Screw you.

Death by suicide. If only.

Do not tell me this is how this movie ends.

“A fine man. A fine – “

Shut up Ernst.

“The higher man.” Shut your face hole, Hyde.

Jekyll is coming out.

“I must leave immediately.” Oh no, you don’t, you bastard.

“Help me.” Keep talking, Jekyll. Get out of there. Confess. You deserve it.

Lots of struggling here. Again, props to the actor.

Inspector, Ernst, and everyone are watching. Do it now, you bastard.

He turned back into Jekyll!

Finally! You did something useful!

He looks really old. Apparently being Hyde aged him decades.

You can still rot in hell.

“I have destroyed him.”

“And yourself, my poor friend.”

“Only I could destroy him.” Dramatic pause. “And I have.”

He’s arrested.

Abrupt Hammer Horror Ending.

Kitty and Paul deserved better.

This review is 20 pages long, over 6K words, and it took me 4 hours to get through it because I kept pausing and rewinding to quote.

You’re welcome.

[palmviolet]

Do you minds telling us for how many years you’ve been writing and maybe recommend some books? Thanks!

i LOVE this question omg (answer under the cut because it got very long)

so i’ve been writing for pretty much as long as i can remember. i was always inventing stupid little stories lol and sometimes they were original and sometimes they were basically fanfiction, before i knew what fanfic was. i distinctly remember writing some weird 101 dalmations fanfic in red felt tip when i was about six. i started writing original stuff that was actually decent about eight years ago, and around that time i was posting some truly terrible fanfic on fanfiction.net (i think it was mainly johnlock and downton abbey? yeah, i know.) then i stopped posting it and focused on my own original writing for a few years, got the germ of a novel of which i wrote about 50k words before stopping and deciding it was rubbish, actually, so there were a few years in which i barely wrote - though i was still writing fic but not posting it. (you do NOT wanna see what my google docs looks like. so many unfinished fics from fandoms i don’t care about anymore. SO. MANY.) 

then towards the end of 2018 i rewatched stranger things and it just kind of clicked for me. the first time i watched it my favourite character was steve but i couldn’t connect to it in the same way?? like i didn’t have any ideas for fic or anything, i just kind of watched it and moved on. the second time was very different lol. i rewatched it and i immediately focused on joyce and hopper, and then i wrote a fool to hold you just as a way of kind of exploring my ideas about these two. it was my first fic on ao3!! and it just kind of spiralled from there lol

every so often i get ideas for original fiction but they never really stick. i would definitely like to get back into writing it but not right now. i’m currently doing a degree in literature which takes a LOT of my creative energy, and what’s left i expend on writing fanfic just because it is easier, and there’s kind of instant gratification with comments and things, which i wouldn’t get with original fiction. but i will definitely go back to it - i miss it a lot, and writing so much fanfic has definitely taught me a lot which i can use. 

as for your second question- i LOVE recommending books. seriously, if you have a question about so-called ‘highbrow’ literature then come to me pls!! i have to use my degree for something!! it really depends what you’re after so i’m just gonna drop some of my recent favourites.

so the book i read most recently that stuck with me the most was infinite jest by david foster wallace. it’s a behemoth of a novel, over 500k words, but every single one of them is worth it. you read the first chapter and you’re like.... what? i don’t get it. curiosity forces you to continue, albeit begrudgingly, and then suddenly you’re on page 200 because it just.... clicks. you stop caring about how long and meandering the sentences are, how many diversions and digressions there are, how the timeline doesn’t make sense, how it wants you to flip to the appendices every other page. it’s just- it’s so immersive. i love it. it’s not the most progressive of books, i’ll grant you - it wins no awards for representation and there’s some less than flattering ideas about women in it - but tbh i’m not the kind of person who cares only about that. it was one of the first books in a long time that i didn’t want to get to the end of, because i was enjoying it so much. 

since i am basically jonathan byers in both music and literary taste, i would be remiss not to recommend some vonnegut. cat’s cradle is so surreal and compact and perfect (much shorter than infinite jest, if you find that intimidating). i also read his collection of short stories welcome to the monkey house, which is so witty and funny and easy to dip in and out of. there’s also his autobiographical collection of essays palm sunday, which is amazing. it says so much about literature and american life (and i actually reference it in my upcoming st fic ;) ).

if you’re looking for something older, arthur machen’s horror stories are great. they’re the precursor to pretty much all horror since the end of the victorian period - when you say something is lovecraftian, you should really be saying it’s machen-ian. (it’s just as well, because to my knowledge machen was nowhere near as awful as lovecraft was.) they’re all pretty short but they’re full of intrigue and creepy stuff. if this is something you’re interested in then it’s worth reading the turn of the screw by henry james, which is a classic victorian horror story. i recently wrote an essay comparing the two and the yellow wall-paper by charlotte perkins gilman, which is a very short but mind-bending feminist story.

i’m also a big fan of vladimir nabokov. lolita is of course a classic, with disconcertingly gorgeous prose. i also like invitation to a beheading, which is extremely weird but really gets you to engage with the act of reading itself. 

if you want humour (though there is humour in all of these books, save the horror stories), go for catch 22 by joseph heller. it’s so funny and so bitter and dark at the same time. lesser known is his novel something happened, in which basically nothing happens, which is the point. it’s also quite funny but very very bleak, and somewhat claustrophobic - so in the current quarantine climate perhaps not the best read, unless you’re a masochist lol. 

as you can probably tell from this list i am a massive fan of post-modernism. i absorb some element of everything i read, so you may well recognise influences of these books in my writing - or maybe not. who knows. lots of these novels can be found for free on archive.org, as they’re quite old now. 

anyway, that was very long. but thanks for the ask !! x

[lord-explosion-baku]

Villain!Hawks x reader x (kinda) Dabi

Warnings: blood, mentions of death, mentions of violence, criminal activity, suggestive content

A/N: I guess the first time I write for hawks should be a villain!Hawks request so I can stay On Brand. I hope I did alright lol? Also I did a big goof and wrote this knowing I had something like this in my inbox but forgot that the reader was supposed to be a hero and you wanted this to end with it being smutty. I could either do a part 2 of this or write something different where the hero is a hero and then you know... the smut happens. Lol sorry that I’m a trash monkey. Please enjoy!!

You’d met Hawks when he saved you from getting hit by a bus. Out of character of you, you weren’t looking when the blaring horn caught your attention. You didn’t have time to react and all you could do was close your eyes but before you knew it, arms wrapped around your torso and you were flying above the city.

At first, when you looked up at him, you thought he was an angel because of a particular cast down on his silhouetted figure by the sun. He had to be an angel carrying you to heaven and you mentally cursed yourself for ever doubting an afterlife. You were thankful that your death didn’t hurt, at least, you couldn’t remember being hurt but you took note of the abdominal discomfort you felt with his arms wrapped around you. After taking a second look, you saw the scarlet wings and you recognized your savior as the number two hero.

He left you on a rooftop without sparing you a second glance. You had to catch your breath and reassess what had happened. The hero saved your life and zipped away, probably onto his next conquest. You’d grown up watching All Might who was so chivalrous and probably a little bit too showy but you were enthralled by heroes like him. He had always been the example of what you thought a true hero should act like for most of your life but you figured that era was over and even the top heroes didn’t care too much about acting gallant anymore.

The sun was beating down hard and you wiped at your forehead before trying the door; locked. You turned to the sound of flapping to see Hawks rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. You were glad he wasn’t too oblivious.

“I’d thank you for saving my life,” you said, “but it looks like you just wanted me to go by a more slow and painful death, baking in the sun like this.”

His lips curled into a wide grin, though you could see a hint of red poking out through his large visors. “I’m not a fan of taking anything too slow, not even murder.”

Oh so he thinks he’s funny. “Well, my my, is Japan’s number two hero telling me he likes to kill people?” You tilted your head and tried to halt your heart from pounding. It was embarrassing to admit but you were actually really nervous to be talking to someone who was basically a celebrity and diving more int to that, you were flirting with him.

“Yikes,” he chuckled. “Looks like my secrets out! I guess I’m left when no other options but to dispose of you.”

You lifted your arms in a mock surrendering shrug. “I suppose it can’t be helped. But I’ve gotta let you know, I’ll probably enjoy it more if you take it slow for me. Consider this my final wish?”

He choked at your suggestive comment, the red of his cheeks growing to a darker shade of crimson. He brushed his fingers through his messy wind driven hair and pulled his visor up to the top of his head. “What did you say your name was?”

You crossed your arms, pondering whether or not you should play more along with the game you two had started and say something like, ‘you know, it’s harder to kill something once you give it a name,’ but you didn’t want him to know that you were that into role play.

“I didn’t say it. But if you must know, it’s Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N, huh,” he was quick to say your name so casually! You didn’t mind too much. You figured, everyone in Japan just called him ‘Hawks.’

“You’re cute,” he offered you a half grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Maybe I’ll spare your life if you thank me properly.”

“Oh? How would I go about thanking you in a way that suits you, Mr. Hawks?” You made a point to emphasize the semi formal title you’ve bestowed onto him.

“Well, Miss Y/N, you can start by letting me take you on a date.”

It was time for your own cheeks to flush and that didn’t go unnoticed by Hawks whose quirked eyebrow and half grin were only adding to your dilemma. You told yourself to stay composed but you couldn’t help your stomach from giving out a nervous flutter. The number two hero was incredibly handsome anyways. What harm could one date do?

You tossed your hair to the side and grinned. “Get me off this roof and I’ll consider it.”

The two of you started dating after that. It had been casual and mostly nice. Hawks didn’t take you to fancy restaurants or get dressed up in anyway. He liked to show you places that had the best view and go on tiny adventures outside of the city, stopping to get food whenever it was convenient if you didn’t pack a lunch for the two of you. You had fun but it always seemed like he was trying to rush things, trying to pack so many good things into one day, as if there was this invisible stopwatch counting the time you two had together down. By the second date he was already trying to put some kind of label on the relationship and it felt wrong so you had to tell him to take it easy which was weird considering how relaxed he seemed all the time.

You hadn’t yet slept together either, not for lack of trying on his end, but there was something about waiting, especially with how flighty Hawks was... you wanted to know if you could trust him before taking that step. Trust came hard to you because of your quirk: See Through. It wasn’t the neatest thing in the world but it was helpful. When your eyes light up you can see through just about any solid surface, the brighter your eyes got, the more layers you could see through. Because of your quirk, you’ve grown to distrust a lot of people; it was surprising how often people betrayed you from just one wall away. Hawks didn’t seem to have any secrets but he seemed to understand that you had your own issues. And it was fine. You two had a good time together. It. Was. Fine.

Until the fateful night that you found out that Hawks was hiding something from you. Something huge. Something you couldn’t unsee. Something you had to pay for.

It was a dismal coincidence. Work had been stressful and the people on the street were too loud and the crowd gave you anxiety so you decided to move through alleyways, using the lights in your eyes to guide you through the darkening night. Halfway through your trek, your eyes fell upon a long red feather. Odd. You picked it up, smiling because it reminded you of your beau and you lovingly drew your fingers along the sharp edge. When some sort of liquid residue coated your hand, you dropped the feather. It had been covered in… blood.

Maybe it was Hawks’s? Maybe he was fighting a villain? Maybe he was hurt? There wasn’t much you could do for him in a lot of situations but if he needed aide then you had to find him immediately. You quickly but cautiously followed a trail speckled with blood until you heard hushed voices around a corner.

And then, you saw him. Catching a glimpse of his wings first, you quickly switched your eye lights off when you saw he was with someone you couldn’t see all that well— a tall man with black spiky hair in a long jacket. They were walking towards a shady and disgusting looking door, with them… a body.

A feeling of dread overcame you and you felt your mouth go dry. The situation didn’t sit right. Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from them.

“I think you might’ve actually killed him,” the man said to Hawks, yanking on the limp body.

Hawks… didn’t kill people. Heroes don’t kill people!

“Yeah well, you can’t say he didn’t deserve it. He was a rat.” What the hell? Your heart felt like it turned into ice. You had to cover your mouth to stifle your labored breathing. Your nerves were on fire. What was going on?

“Tsk, so aggressive. Is something frustrating you in your personal life?” The man asked in a demeaning tone.

Neither of them were looking your way and your desperate curiosity go the better of you. Using your quirk, you saw through the wall of the building they were approaching. Inside sat crates with loads of packaged product of some sort and about seven sketchy people standing around, few of their faces you’ve seen on the news as people of interests… this wasn’t wrong.

“What are you, my therapist?”

“Don’t tell me it’s the girl,” the man chuckled and your ears perked. “You’re frustrated sexually because that girl won’t let you jump her bones and you’re taking out those frustrations on low lives. Though I’m liking this side of you, might I suggest being more… assertive? She’s probably waiting for you to lose your shit and dominate her. Women like to be controlled.”

Your blood boiled. What an arrogant and vile man!

Hawks turned to scowl back at him. “Dabi, I don’t need you to be giving me-…” you had forgotten about your glowing eyes and Hawks’s rich, brown, kind ones met yours, “relationship advice…”

The strange man, Dabi followed Hawks’s gaze and looked right at you. You took in his unusual appearance, dark, severely burned looking skin stables over regular pasty looking skin. His facial piercings glinted from the light in your eyes. You blinked away your light and froze, unable to think quickly enough about what you should do in this situation. This was… terrible.

“Looks like we’re not alone,” Dabi murmured to Hawks and made a coaxing gesture towards you. “C’mere, alleycat. Wanna play?”

“Y/N…” Hawks took a step in your direction and you took a step back, around the corner. Before you knew it, your feet were moving. You sprinted through the alleyways in search for the street, favoring the noise, the faces, the people far more than what you had just witnessed. You had to get help. You had to get somewhere safe. You had witnessed a crime, a crime that you witnessed a crime hero commit, and he knew who you were. He knew how to find you. You weren’t safe. You needed to get out!

But Hawks was fast.

The terrible sound of flapping wings that you had previously grown fond of now made your stomach churn. From above, he shot down, sliding to his knees before his giant crimson wings spread out in front of you, blocking you from a quick escape. His eyes locked with yours.

“Hey!” He said, upbeat as ever. But his friendly smile did not match the sharp look into his eyes, nor his cautious, watchful movements. “I didn’t expect to be seeing you tonight! I can’t say I’m not happy but uhh this is a bit of a surprise!”

You slid back. “H-hh,” Christ, you couldn’t even say his name. You shook your head and bolted in the other direction, only to slam into his new special friend.

“That’s cute, you’re scared,” Dabi smirked as he grabbed your struggling wrists, “don’t you know that you should be running into the hero’s arms?” His eyes traveled down your body and his grin grew wider. “It’s really cute actually.”

“Let me go!” You bellowed at him, kicking your feet around. You dared to look into his dangerous turquoise eyes and snarled, “I’ll scream!”

Dabi chuckled, “oh, I hope you do…”

You huffed before taking in a lot of air and opening your mouth to prepare to let out an ear shattering screech but before you could, Hawks’s gloved hand wrapped around your mouth. “Ssshhhshh, Y/N, don’t be scared. Dabi’s not gonna hurt you!”

Dabi quirked an eyebrow at Hawks. “I’m not?”

“No,” Hawks growled back, “he’s not! Let her go, man.”

Dabi scoffed and released your wrists which you ripped to your sides. Hawks pulled your closer to him, his hands leaving your mouth to spin you around. “Are you okay?”

Of course you weren’t okay. You were freaking the fuck out, cornered in an alley by two… by two villains. By the guy you were dating!! “Just let me go,” you pleaded. “I’m not… I won’t tell a soul what I saw- I just want to go home, Hawks.”

“What did you see?” His voice was soft and he reached out for your cheek butnyou shied away. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t know exactly how much trouble you were in or what Hawks would end up doing to you when he knew that he had maybe killed a man and he was working with… black market dealers?? But your silence said everything. “Too much then, yeah?”

“I can’t believe you,” you spat. “You told me that I could trust you! You told me I had nothing to worry about! But Jesus, Hawks, you’re a criminal!”

“Hey, come on, level with me here. I’m still me, I’m still Hawks. I just have… a few more jobs than I let on but to be fair, you never asked and I never lied to you! You just need to calm down right now, okay? I’m gonna be honest, if those other guys knew what you saw, they’d kill you, Y/N. We can’t let that kinda information get out, right?”

Your eyes widened. We? So he was really apart of whatever the hell you just witnessed. He wasn’t a hero at all. “Are… um,” you tried to swallow but your dry throat wouldn’t let you. The man before you recently assaulted someone else. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do the same thing to you? “Are you going to kill me?”

“Baby, of course not! I could never hurt you! You’ll always be safe when you’re with me, I promise! I saved you, remember that? Maybe three times now!”

Dabi scoffed from behind you. “Since when did you start calling her ‘baby’?”

He had done it only a few times before which you’d shoot down immediately. Pet names were for people who were in a relationship and you told him that him calling you ‘baby,’ was like a way of forcing you into one without realizing it. But he was in control of this situation and you weren’t in any position to be objecting.

Hawks narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “This could be a good thing! I don’t have to keep this secret from you and I’m sure, no, positive we’ll be spending a lot more time together because of it. I’ve been thinking long and hard about it for awhile now. I like you, Y/N, I really like you. Since that day on the rooftop, I knew you’d be special. You’re so fiesty and forthright and, well, I’m willing to give a proper relationship a go.”

He was speaking to you as if he hadn’t been pressuring you into a relationship with him for weeks already. Whether he was acting that way to impress this new friend, Dabi, or for the sake of actually saving you from a not so pleasant situation didn’t matter. He had you right where he wanted.

A dark shadow crossed his eyes and he gave you a wild look that you hadn’t seen before. It was seriously off-putting. “That is… if you are also willing.”

“Willing…?”

“I think we’ll be so good together, don’t you? Whadya say? Be my girl? Be my baby?”

You’ve consumed enough media to know that you had be subservient in these types of situations. Be compliant until you know you’re safe. “Okay,” you sighed. “I’ll… be your baby…”

Hawks’s wings twitched with excitement and his shoulders relaxed while he gave you a genuine and relieved smile. “I’m so glad,” he said, “so… Does my baby want a kiss?”

Dabi poked his head around your shoulder, “from who?”

You yipped and hopped closer to Hawks who took that as an opportunity to put his hand on the small of your back.

“So jumpy this one,” Dabi snickered.

“I kinda like it,” Hawks cooed, wrapping his wings around you so you were shielded from Dabi. “I didn’t know you had a vulnerable side to you. This is gonna be a lot of fun. Now…”

He nuzzled his scruffy face against your cheek, a tickling sensation you’ve learned to enjoy. You let your body grow goosebumps and closed your eyes, allowing your head to roll into his. There really wasn’t anything you could do about it and Hawks knew it.

He pulled away and brushed your hair out of your face before gripping your chin between his index finger and thumb.

“Give us a kiss.”

Tags for EVERYTHING (closed): @yandere-inamorata @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @wickedlewicked @chickennuggetsarequestionable @nevermorelanore @kpanime @ayeputita @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @mynahx3 @andie-in-tumblland @iamthe-leaf @midnightfeline666 @bungou-stray-alies-tales-of-aly -of-aly @rubyred-imagines 28 @kattariapenn @heypartypeps @quirktaker @thecryingsombra @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @ghost-of-todoroki @geektastic84 @davalia @glixeo @rubycubix @mekakushi-dan-01-kido

[sofreddie]

High School Reunion

Prompt: @superseejay721517 - It’s the reader’s high school reunion and people are still being jerks. Dean or Jensen happens to be in the same bar and comes over pretending to be her boyfriend to make her feel better.

Characters: Jensen, Reader, OC Lana, Several female OCs

Warnings: Fluff, Minor Angst

Word Count: 2,208

A/N: Another of my WIPs that’s just been sitting there. Based on a request I received a million years ago! I wrote this, with the intention of making a series. But I’m not sure if i’ll continue it or not. It’s been sitting in my WIPs for AGES. I’ve never been to a reunion, of any kind. If your in my past, you can just...stay there. For the record, I wanted to call this F*ck Those Girls From High School, but apparently that’s “inappropriate”.

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A high school reunion is something most people look forward to. The excitement of seeing old friends, old flames, relieving the “good old days” gone by. The thrill of seeing how people ended up in life. What happened to the star quarterback? Or the head cheerleader? Did the kid who bullied you finally get their comeuppance? Is the smart kid now running a Fortune 500 company? But then there were those who dreaded the reunion. Because school was never kind, people were never kind. And the thought of returning to those times seems like something you should avoid altogether. Y/N felt that way, but went anyway. Why? Her best friend encouraged her to go.

“Y/N! You never know, you could have a blast! And you’re not the same as you were then. You look different, you’re more confident. And everyone is older, wiser. I’m sure it will be better than it was before.” Lana stated with excitement over the Skype call. Lana was Y/N’s best friend. They had met online through their love of writing and quickly became the best of friends, disregarding the fact they lived an ocean apart.

Y/N scoffed to herself, remembering their conversation from weeks before, as she sat alone at a table in the banquet hall hosting the reunion. She nursed her drink, grateful at least for the open bar. She glanced around the room, seeing her old classmates laughing and mingling. No one had approached her or talked to her. She was an invisible wallflower. The only difference being the lack of hate-mongering bullying from years gone past. She wasn’t worthy of remembering, or so it seemed.

Y/N downed the rest of her drink in a hurry, determined to leave in a haste. She came, she saw, it was time to go. At least she can say she had the courage to show up. As she stood to leave, her attention was drawn to a high-pitched voice squealing her name.

“Y/N? Is that you?!” The shrill voice asked. Y/N cringed at the sound, closing her eyes in frustration at her luck. Please don’t be Amanda. Please don’t be Amanda. She thought to herself as she plastered her best customer service grin and turned to greet the source of the noise.

“Amanda!” Y/N feigned excitement. “How are you?” She offered her best impression of glee.

“I’m fantastic!” Amanda chimed, her white teeth glistening in the low lighting of the hall. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.” She continued, her tone dropping. Here we go.

“Oh?” Y/N acted surprised. “Why is that?”

Amanda scoffed, rolling her eyes as two other women approached, flanking her. “Well, you never really were one for being social. You were always awkward and distant.”

“Hmm...well I guess that’s changed.” Y/N tried to remain upbeat. These women had tormented her constantly in school. The popular trio, uncomfortable by the quiet outcast. Y/N was desperately trying to find an out.

“I doubt that.” One of the other women, Glenda, muttered. They continued with their venomous tirade. Y/N was growing increasingly uncomfortable under their ministrations, but refused to be seen running away. She wanted to appear strong, let them know they couldn’t affect her anymore, even if they were. She began to think excusing herself to use the restroom might be her only out, and she could sneak out of the event after. As she was about to speak up, another voice rang in her ears, deep and sensual.

“Hey Sweetheart,” the man said, placing a hand on her back and leaning in to peck her cheek. Y/N turned to see who would dare assault her, before her heart jumped to her throat and froze in place. Is that…”Sorry I’m late.” He smiled sweetly at her before turning to address the three women.

“Hi!” He smiled brightly, switching the glass in his hands to offer a shake to Amanda. “I’m Jensen, Y/N’s boyfriend.” Amanda looked him up and down, her jaw hanging open as she reached a shaky hand towards him. Jensen shook each of their hands before placing his hand back on Y/N’s back.

“Jensen Ackles?” Amanda asked in shock, her eyes flitting rapidly between him and Y/N. A strange expression grazed her face. Like a monkey doing a math problem. Y/N thought, lowering her head to hide the grin that was spreading in response.

“Excuse us for a moment?” Jensen asked, guiding Y/N back to the table to sit. He took the chair next to hers, turning it so as to face her directly. He smiled at her before remembering the glass in his hands. “Uh, here,” He said, placing the glass on the table before her. “I figured you could use a refill.” His smile never wavered as he watched her, waiting for her to meet his gaze.

Y/N was nervous, unsure of what had just happened. Jensen Ackles, one of her favorite actors from one of her favorite shows, just showed up at her reunion and out of everyone, decided to talk to her. But why though? And why was he here? And...wait a minute...did he say ‘boyfriend’? Y/N decided, with her liquid courage, to be playful and appear confident.

“So,” Y/N began, tucking her hair behind her ear as she smirked and sipped at the new drink. “I may have had a few too many so far.” She set the glass down, turning her body towards him. “But, remind me, when did we start dating?” Jensen bit his lip as he glanced down, letting loose a hearty chuckle, before looking into her Y/E/C eyes once more.

“Right,” He said, smirking, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. “I sort of overheard the exchange with those women and you seemed to be looking for an escape.”

“Hmm,” Y/N hummed, nodding in agreement. “Yes, excuse me, but my handsome and famous boyfriend needs my attention. You understand…” She laughed, a blush starting to tinge her face. Jensen’s green eyes flitted over her features, taking in the subtle crimson, and decided it was a good look for her. “So,” She sat up straighter, becoming more serious. “What actually brings you here?” She sipped at her drink, eyeing him over the rim of the glass.

“Ah, yes...well,” Jensen began, mimicking her straightened posture and adjusting the lapels of his sport jacket. “I met this lovely woman a few weeks ago. Big fan of the show.” Y/N nodded in understanding as she listened. “And after talking to her, she mentioned she had a friend who was also a big fan. This friend of hers was nervous about attending a reunion and after talking we decided it would be cool if I showed up, met her, helped her out.” He shrugged as if to imply it was no big deal. Y/N nodded in understanding, feeling a pang of jealousy. He was here for someone else. Of course he is...idiot!

“So, who’s the lucky lady?” Y/N asked, acting casual as she finished her drink, perhaps a little too quickly, and not going unnoticed by Jensen.

“Ah, well,” Jensen said, reaching into his jacket pocket and retrieving a photo. He smiled at it before offering it to Y/N. She took the photo reluctantly. Maybe she could be helpful and point him in the right direction. At least then she could go home. As she looked at the photo, she was shocked and confused. The image was of herself, from a Skype call with Lana. Lana’s picture in the bottom corner of the printed screenshot, smiling with two thumbs up. Lana. Remember to kill her later.

Y/N sat, staring at the photo, nearly forgetting that Jensen sat waiting for her. “Yeah, I kind of stared at it for a while too.” He said to her, a slight blush on his face as he bit his lip. Y/N went completely red, bright and obvious. She looked from him, to the ground, to the table. She wasn’t sure what to do or where to look. Jensen reached for the photo and returned it to his pocket, giving the jacket a light tap as if to confirm the photo was safely tucked away. Y/N fidgeted nervously. She bowed her head, tucking her hair behind her ear, and fiddled with her fingers in her lap. Her face burned hot and she couldn’t manage to look at him.

“So,” Jensen broke the silence, dipping his head to try and meet her eyes. She lifted her head slightly to look at him through her lashes. He looked out to the floor and the throng of people dancing. “Would you like to dance?” He asked, raising a brow. He stood then, offering his hand out to her. She bit her lip and placed her hand in his, standing to join him on the floor.

Jensen led Y/N to the middle of the floor through several couples dancing. He kept smiling back at her with excitement and charm. Y/N was sure her face would burst into flames at any moment. Jensen stopped within the crowd and pulled Y/N to him. Her right hand in his left, his hand on her waist, hers on his bicep, a formal distance between them. Jensen noticed how stiff her body was. He was determined to make her relax and enjoy the evening. He smiled and joked, moved her this way and that, until she was laughing and smiling, her body relaxing in his hold. She asked for a drink then and Jensen led them back to their table. He noticed her sipping and glancing around the room nervously.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jensen asked, a huge grin on his face. “Maybe get a bite to eat?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” Y/N said, her smile as wide as his own. He bit his lip then as he stood, once again offering his hand to her to lead her from the hall.

“I’m parked over here.” Y/N said, pointing over her shoulder.

“I’m over here.” Jensen pointed to the other end of the lot. “You could ride with me and I could give you a ride back to your car.” He offered. Y/N agreed with a soft-spoken ‘okay’, before following him to his car. He opened the passenger door for her and helped her in, closing it shut behind her, before walking around the back of the vehicle to the driver’s side. He climbed in and started up, smiling over to her before pulling out of the lot.

They stopped at a drive-thru, getting a couple burgers with fries, before Y/N gave directions to a nice place to park on the outside of town. They sat on the hood of the car, eating, talking, and laughing. Y/N was surprised how natural it felt and how much she was genuinely comfortable with him. She tried to keep herself level-headed. Just hanging out...with Jensen Ackles. She still didn’t believe it herself. And it was hard to convince herself it wasn’t a date when it felt like it, and the butterflies in her stomach didn’t help her case any.

“Wow, it’s late!” Y/N said, glancing at her phone. She hadn’t realized they’d spent so long talking. “I’ve probably taken up enough of your time.” She laughed, hopping off the car.

“Yeah, you probably have work tomorrow.” Jensen agreed reluctantly, walking to open the door for her. She smiled at him, biting her lip and failing miserably to hide her blush. Jensen beamed in response, closing the door before climbing in the driver’s side. He drove her back to her car and offered to follow her home, make sure she got there okay, seeing as how it was late and all. He denied to himself that it was because he was reluctant for the night to end.

As Y/N pulled into her driveway, Jensen parked along the curb, hopping out of his car to escort her to her door.

“Thanks for tonight, all of it.” Y/N smiled, the rose vibrant on her cheeks. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, me too.” He nodded in agreement. “We should talk again, soon. I could give you my number. You know, just if you ever want to talk or something.” He was kicking himself in his head. Smooth. Y/N giggled a little and nodded, offering her phone to him. He smiled, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he entered his information into her phone and handed it back to her. “So, uh...goodnight.” He offered, smiling one last time before turning and walking back to his vehicle. Y/N entered her house and closed the door, leaning her back against it as she let out a squeal of delight. She looked at her phone, his contact information there. She clicked on the message and typed a quick note.

Goodnight, Jensen.

Y/N bit her lip in excitement and saw a message from Lana. She immediately opened Skype to call her best friend...and thank her.

PART 2

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[darwin-xf]

Close through the Dark

Just some pillow talk from circa SOSS. Good clean fun. The rest is at AO3. The middle chapter is filthy fun, but you can skip it just fine. If that’s not your thing. Sorry if you saw this. Penultimate chapter of Vox coming very soon! xo-D

————————————————-

“That was it.” Mulder said, some minutes after they had collapsed to the bed.

They lay side by side in the near dark of his bedroom, his fingers laced behind his neck, his eyes idly following the shifting shadows on the ceiling. She was sprawled on her stomach, close but not touching him, her face half buried in a pillow. She emitted an occasional satiated murmur.

“That was what?” she asked, lazily.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had. Red hot monkey sex, Scully. That was some primitive bootknocking.”

Her laugh settled into a smirk, her eyes still closed.

“Was it ok when I…”

“More than ok.” In fact, their encounter had been playing behind her eyelids as she drifted next to him. She stole toward him and kissed the underside of his jaw, then rested her head on the landing strip of his chest.

“Good,” he said, circling his arms around her and giving her a squeeze. “I would normally, uh, ask first...”

“That’s not bad as a general rule,” she said. “But I think I set the tone, Mulder. For this particular soirée.”

“I picked up on that,” he said, smiling at her.

“I’m not really sure what came over me...”

He shrugged, complaining the furthest thing from his mind. Also, never good for Scully to overthink. In bed, anyway.

His window was open a sliver, allowing the city’s dusky spring hum to wash over them. Bars coughed patrons back up to the sidewalks as happy hour timed out, more carefree and certainly louder. All over the city clusters of tight blossoms weighed down limbs. A night bird trilled nearby and light from a million bulbs worked its way around the edges of his blinds which swayed and rattled in the breeze. A car alarm blared fruitlessly several blocks away.

“Why do the best words for sex all originate from the French?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her mouth. “Tonight’s...skirmish, you might be interested to know, took over the top spot from the rendezvous we had last Thursday.”

“You have a list? Have you been making reports on me from the beginning, Mulder? Taking your little notes?”

“That water isn’t from the faucet, is it Scully?” he asked, gesturing to the half-empty glass they’d been sharing.

“Jug in the fridge.”

“Good. Nothing for the record. It’s all up here,” he said, tapping his temple.

She lifted her head and looked at him. “What did we…?” A slow smile spread across her face. “Oh yeah. Thursday was nice.”

“Last Thursday beat out our power lunch from three Mondays ago, if you must know, which, at this point, is taking the bronze. Nipped it at the wire,” Mulder said.

She looked at him quizzically. Their physical intimacy had been progressing nicely. Which, if pressed, she might admit was an understatement.

“Lunch is a contemporary English word. Nineteenth Century, I think. Luncheon. Power is Latin in origin maybe? But I’m pretty sure it comes to us via Anglo-Norman French as the verb poeir-to be able to. Why aren’t German words sexy, Scully?”

“I can never decide whether your capacity for remembering literally everything except my birthday is more a curse or a blessing,” she said, dragging her fingers through his shorn hair. “You’re so minky,” she muttered, nipped at his pec.

“Me neither,” he said. “But when it comes to this,” he said, wagging his index finger between them, “It’s all good.”

“Hmmmm,” she agreed.

“I’ll work on the birthday thing.”

She snorted. “I won’t hold my breath.”

“We celebrated this year.”

“You invited me to dinner after you overheard Skinner wish me a Happy Birthday.”

“You noticed that? How does Skinner remember your birthday? Why does he? He never mentions my birthday.”

“I’ve never taken a swing at him.”

“You’ve held a gun on him though. And accused him of treason.”

“I guess he’s the forgiving type.”

“Good thing, or he would have canned me ages ago.”

“That's true.”

“There was that one time. Just before we left for Wisconsin? We sang in the bar?”

“Three years ago? I was dying of cancer, Mulder. Even Bill Junior sent a card.”

“Scully, I…”

“It was nice all the same. You don’t often have occasion to see sparklers in February. I never got to eat my Snowball, though.”

Scully peeled herself away and stood at the end of the bed, pressing her arms skyward with hands clasped in a deep stretch, dark in her hollows, not a stitch on. His eyes went soft, taking her in, as his tongue toyed with the sore spot on his freshly split lip.

“There’s a dirty joke there somewhere, but I’m too distracted to think of it.”

————————————————-

They had pulled on some clothes and were at his dining table eating toast and lentil soup.

“Is this from a can?” Scully said, pointing toward her bowl with her spoon. “It’s good. It tastes like my mom’s.”

“It is your mom’s” he said. “She gave me a quart of it from her freezer at Thanksgiving. She insisted.”

“She probably thinks you’re too skinny. And generally a helpless bachelor.”

“I’ll take what I can get. Besides, I like her. I’ve never met a Scully woman I didn’t like.”

“Remember Aunt Maura, my dad’s spinster sister? She’s kind of a drag.”

“With the lavender hair?”

“That’s her. Mom only invites her out of obligation.”

“She seemed like kind of a sourpuss,” Mulder agreed.

“Who spends all of Thanksgiving dinner with people you might see twice a year complaining about noisy children and the lack of amenities on their recent cruise?”

“I kept wanting to ask her about her hair. But I thought it might be rude.”

“You have good manners, Mulder. But, you've never spent time with my mom as my lover.”

“True. You weren’t putting out in November.”

“Not that you know of.”

“Touché, Scully,” he sad. “But you weren’t, right?”

She just shook her head. He went back to his soup.

“Wait. If memory serves, we engaged in some pretty hot premarital intercourse on my sofa not a half hour before meeting your mother for brunch. This was, like, months ago.”

“We did more than that. There was very little room for the Holy Spirit, as I recall. But she didn’t know that. And what, Monster Boy, do you mean by premarital?”

“You know what I mean. Does she know now? That we’re... going steady?”

“Hints have been dropped. Also, we played some serious footsie at brunch. Not to mention I brought you to brunch. She’s not an idiot.”

“Huh. You know what I think, Scully? I think your mother knew what we were to each other long before we did.”

“Maybe she did.”

“I’m not sure how...”

“Well, I’ve heard stories that you can get…a little...intense when I’m incapacitated.”

“You know how the rumor mill is.”

She laughed. Down in the street, someone yelled “Debbie, don’t do this to me!” the plaintive wail echoing up through the corridors of buildings.

“Maybe we should close the windows,” she said.

“It doesn’t bother me. For once I’m about to curl up with my favorite warm body and someone else is acting like a lunatic and going home alone.”

“It’s nice up here,” she said.

“I couldn’t believe your mom gave me your cross to hold, when you were gone. I was afraid I’d lose it. I wore it for a while.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t have a jewelry box.”

She smirked at him.

He looked down and smiled, still shy around her from time to time. “I’m just glad I got the chance to give it back.”

“I still have that football video you gave me that day. Somewhere. Maybe I’ll even watch it one day.”

“I was very suave, wasn’t I? Also, a jackass.”

“To me, you were adorable, all sleepy eyed and meek, drowning in some green grandpa windbreaker. You’ve filled out since then,” she said, running her eyes over his bare chest and arms.

“I was so relieved. And petrified. I wanted to scoop you up and snatch you away to my lair forever. Or else turn on my heel and spare you ever seeing me again. I fought those dueling impulses for years, where you were concerned. I was more like the monster from Beowulf than boyfriend material. Grendel.”

“Who wrote Beowulf?” she asked. I had to read that in AP Lit.”

“Anonymous. The same person who wrote Go Ask Alice, a cautionary tale to warn prim young women of the perils of the fast life.”

“Prolific,” Scully said. “And such range. Too bad the name is lost to history.”

“I’ve always wanted to name a dog Grendel.”

“Not a fish?”

He stood up and made his way toward his fish tank. They flashed and scrummed near the surface as he approached—barefoot and boxered, her favorite look—and darted after the flakes as he tapped them into the tank.

“Grendel was hairy and bipedal. Mammalian. Omnivorous and moody. He lived with his mother. All wrong for a fish.”

It occurred to her that Mulder wanted to honor this Medieval mythical monster like a long dead but fondly remembered great uncle, the story of Grendel more plausible to him than Jonah and the Whale to most Christians.

“I’m glad you didn’t succumb to any of those impulses,” she said. “And I’m glad we seem to have found some middle ground.”

Finish at AO3...

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 28 - 29

I honestly don’t know how it can get worse from here.

So they start the real official meeting that Rowan called in Rolfe’s office, and Aelin wastes no time making me want to rip my eyes out.

[Rowan’s] face—oh, gods, [Aelin]’d missed that harsh, unyielding face

Back to Ratlin (that’s what I’m calling it from now on) splooging I see. Great. Can’t wait for multiple paragraphs of Aelin busting a nut at the thought of Rowan’s peen while SJM insists these books have a plot.

Aelin decided she didn’t particularly give a shit who was watching and rose up on her toes to brush her mouth against [Rowan’s].

UHHH WHAT THE FUCK AELIN. THIS IS AN IMPORTANT MEETINGS THAT’LL DETERMINE IF ROLFE JOINS YOUR WAR EFFORT OR NOT YOU CAN’T JUST - oh forget it, I’ll just sound like a broken record.

[Aelin] just prayed she’d be able to warn Aedion before he ran into his father - who was now sitting two seats down from her, gawking at her as if she had ten heads. Gods, even the expression was like Aedion’s. How hadn’t she noticed that this spring in Wendlyn?

My monkey brain is having feels because I’m sucker for the “child is spitting image of their parent” trope..... bad monkey brain.

“And who would verify the word of a nineteen-year-old princess?” [Aelin] jerked her chin at the wax-sealed tube. “Murtaugh Allsbrook would. He wrote you a nice, long letter about it.” Rolfe picked up the tube, studied it, and chucked it in a neat arc—right into his rubbish bin. The thud echoed through the office.

LMAOOOOOO YOU GO ROLFE!!! SLAY THAT BITCH!!!! I mean considering all the shit Aelin put him through I don’t blame him not wanting to align with her.

Rolfe let out a low laugh. “The talk of young idealists and dreamers.” “The world,” Aelin said, “will be saved and remade by the dreamers, Rolfe.”

See, this is the kind of shit I would be getting excited about if this was a good series. Sounds like something straight of Les Mis. SJM can come up with some good quotes, but if I don’t care about the horrible characters and there’s no plot, why should I give a shit?

Aelin purred, “Do you want gold, Rolfe? Do you want a title? Do you want glory or women or land? Or is it just the bloodlust that drives you?”

Oh my god, SJM is a furry!

Looks like you bid on the wrong horse [Rowan],” Rolfe crooned. He flicked his eyes to Dorian. “What news did you receive?” But that wrong horse [Rowan] cut in smoothly, “There was none. But you’ll be glad to know your spies at the Ocean Rose are certainly doing their job. And that His Majesty is quite an accomplished actor.”

Jesus Christ this writing

Dorian said coldly, “For a petty grudge, you’d refuse to consider allying with us?” Aelin snorted. “I’d hardly call wrecking his shit-poor city and ships a ‘petty grudge.’”

T-this... this can’t be. I am reading Empire of Storms by SJM, right? Aelin? Having self awareness? In my SJM book? Well, it’s more likely... to never appear again.

Rolfe tells Aelin to go fuck herself and that scene ends, permanently establishing Rolfe as one of the few Well Written Characters. I want him, Darrow, Manon, and Gav to leave this shitty series and go forth to a better one.

Aelin hit the narrow hallway, a wall of muscle at her back and by her side, and faced another dilemma: Aedion.

I smell Aedion daddy issues angst over the horizon. Also, are the ‘walls of muscle’ supposed to be Rowan and... the other Fae??? God SJM stop jerking off to your own characters for 5 minutes please.

Aelin made it all of three steps down the hall when Gavriel said behind her, “Where is he?” Slowly, she looked back. The warrior’s tan face was tight, his eyes full of sorrow and steel.

Damn, I just feel really bad for Gav. Keep in mind I don’t remember why he left Aedion (if it was revealed previously) but I’m hoping SJM actually uses him and makes him a good father, this series is severely lacking in good parental figures.

But Aelin sucked on a tooth

“You don’t get to decide when and where and how you meet him,” Aelin said. “He’s my gods-damned son. I think I do.”

Nooo SJM I’m begging you I like Gav please don’t make him a toxic fuckboi pleeeeeease

Aelin just tells Gav not to order her around and that scene ends...? Okay. I hope SJM is implying Gav calmed down and respected his son’s boundaries. I just want one character to stay good and pure and to be a good father is that too much to ask.

Later Aelin goes to have a chat with Dorian.

“It seems you and I are currently without crowns, thanks to a few bullshit pieces of paper.” Dorian didn’t return her smile. The stairs groaned beneath them as they headed for the second floor. They were almost to the room Dorian had indicated when he said, “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

I mean, Dorian, you seem like a good king who would fight to defend his people. You deserve to be king. But Aelin? Yeah if she was queen her kingdom would be already burnt to the ground, so you’re half right.

They have another meeting where Rowan/Dorian share more information about the witches.

“Manon Blackbeak,” Aedion mused, “would be a valuable ally, if we can get her to turn.”

NO NONO NO NO KEEP MANON’S BEAUTIFUL SELF AWAY FROM AELIN’S CRUSTY ASS I’M BEGGING

It was never-ending, [Aelin] supposed while they dined that night on peppered crab and spiced rice.

Reading this as a Cape Bretoner was a mistake. Now I’m hungry for some good seafood..... mmmm, battered fish and chips.....

And [Aelin] was to be given nothing more than obscure commands by long-dead royals to find a way to stop it, nothing more than gods-damned months to rally a force against him.

Gods-damned is a stupid word and SJM should feel bad for abusing it. Aelin decides to make sure Rolfe’s hand maps work and the chapter ends. Next!

Too many animals loitering about the streets at this hour would attract the wrong sort of attention. But Aedion still wished that the shifter was wearing fur or feathers compared to … this.

Greaaat are we gonna get Aedion slut shaming Lysandra? Just what I wanted....

He glanced at the delicate gold chain dangling around Lysandra’s pale throat, tracing its length down the front of her bodice, to where the Amulet of Orynth was now hidden beneath. “Admiring the view?” Aedion snapped his eyes up from the generous swells of her breasts. “Sorry.”

The only reason Lysandra is wearing the Amulet is so Aedion can drool over her boobies. I’m right and you all know it.

“Rowan claimed Rolfe would find the amulet interesting enough to go after it.” “Rowan and Aelin have a tendency to say one thing and mean something else entirely.” Aedion heaved a breath through his nose.

Aedion actually criticizing Aelin?? What the fuck is going on??

Lysandra gets pissy when Aedion points out she’s tired. Not even to condescend towards her, he’s actually concerned, so calm down, Lysandra. We get an ““““explanation”“““ for Lysandra’s shifting powers.

Each shift took something out of Lysandra. The bigger the change, the bigger the animal, the steeper the cost. Aedion had witnessed her morph from butterfly to bumblebee to hummingbird to bat within the span of a few minutes. But going from human to ghost leopard to bear or elk or horse, she’d once demonstrated, took longer between shifts, the magic having to draw up the strength to become that size, to fill the body with all its inherent power.

Better than nothing, but... how does shifting into bigger animals exhaust her but shifting into smaller animals doesn't? Each time the mass of her body is changing, so shouldn’t shifting in general exhaust her? Btw, read Animorphs, it’s a great gritty series that deals with shifting powers way better.

Aedion, however, stiffened slightly as those steps grew closer, and he found himself staring at the son of his great enemy. King, now.

This is confusing as fuck. Stop referring to Dorian as king and use his name so we can understand who Aedion is staring at, thank you.

[Aedion] reined in his scowl as he said to the king, “So, you and Whitethorn didn’t kill each other.” Dorian’s brows scrunched. “He saved my life, nearly got himself burned out to do it. Why should I be anything but grateful?”

Great, now we have to add Rowan splooging that isn’t from Aelin to the list.

He did not resent what she had been, what she portrayed now, only the monsters who had seen the beauty the child would grow into and taken her into that brothel. Aelin had told him what Arobynn had done to the man she’d loved. It was a miracle the shifter could smile at all.

What the fuuuuck why is Aedion portrayed as ~noble and amazing~ for not judging Lysandra based on her past? It’s common human decency to not judge people for things out of their control!! Does SJM not understand how humans operate?

Aedion tells Dorian to fuck off and he leaves, and Lysandra gets understandably irritated by Aedion being a dick.

“He stabbed Aelin. If you knew him as I have, you wouldn’t be so willing to fawn over—”

1. Dorian was, to my memory, being controlled by a demon thing when he stabbed Aelin. He was not in his right mind, and did not have control over himself. Stop holding that over his head, you prick.

2. Aedion you were an asshole too! You tripped Dorian and sent him falling into a thorn bush when you two were walking in HOF. You fucking judgemental asshole, I cannot believe I ever liked you.

Aedion’s like “b-but he was an arrogant kid” and Lysandra, being voice of reason, is like “Um, we all were as kids Aedion, including Aelin” and we litERALLY GET THIS

“I don’t care if he was as arrogant and vain as Aelin, I don’t care if he was enslaved to a demon that took his mind. I look at him and see my family butchered, see those tracks to the river, and hear Quinn tell me that Aelin was drowned and dead.” His breathing was uneven, and his throat burned, but he ignored it.

JESUS TAP DANCING CHRIST. Okay, I’m not saying Aedion isn’t wrong to be weary of Dorian after what happened to his family at the hands of Dorian’s father but this is literally Aedion going “It’s only okay to be a dick if it’s Aelin! Everyone else is a bad ruler and should bow down to her uwu”

FUCKING HELL. I’m willing to bet if it had been Aelin mind controlled, Aedion would be jumping through hoops to justify her actions and convince everyone she couldn’t help herself. Assdion has no character outside of being a dick and kissing up Aelin’s ass. I fucking hat this character almost as much as I hate Aelin.

Aedion braced his palm against the wall again and leaned in to glower in [Lysandra’s] face. She did not yield an inch. “There is an order and rank in our court, lady, and last I checked, you were not number three. You don’t give me commands.”

(...) And the last I checked…” She poked his chest, right between his pectorals, and he could have sworn the tip of a claw pierced the skin beneath his clothes. “You weren’t pathetic enough to enforce rank to hide from being in the wrong.“

*Mortal Kombat voice* FINISH HIM

His blood sparked and thrummed. Aedion found himself taking in the sensuous curves of her mouth, now pressed thin with anger.

W.....

YOU TWO ARE ARGUING AND ASSDION SUDDENLY HAS A BONER OVER HER MOUTH. HOW THE FUCK IS THIS HEALTHY IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM. This is nearly as bad as the “kissing a spouse during an argument instead of solving the problem” trope.

By the way, Aedion is demoted to Assdion. Aelin to Alien, and Rowan to Rowboat. I hate these characters so much.

Lysandra backed away a step, too casual to be anything but a calculated move. But Aedion tried—for her sake, he tried to stop thinking about her mouth—

WHAT THE FUCK DOES SJM THINK ALL MEN ARE HORNDOGS WHO WANNA FUCK 24/7?? This is an incredibly upsetting and inaccurate stereotype! It’s not goddamn hard to not think with your dick for five seconds jfc

Too soon—she wouldn’t want a man’s touch for a long time. Maybe forever. And he’d be damned if he pushed her into it before she wanted to.

Are you sure about that? Because a minute ago you were nearly cumming at the thought of her mouth.

Subject changes and Assdion asks if his father wanted to see him.

“[Gav] nearly bit Aelin’s head off when she refused to tell him where and who you are.” Ice filled [Aedion’s] veins. If his father had been rude to her—“But I got the sense,” Lysandra quickly clarified as he tensed, “that he is the sort of male who would respect your wishes if you chose not to see him.

*sniffles* Gav deserves to be a good father.

“What would you do?” “I can’t answer that question. My own father…” She shook her head. He knew about that—the shifter-father who had either abandoned her mother or not even known she was pregnant. And then the mother who had thrown Lysandra into the street when she discovered her heritage. “Aedion, what do you want to do? Not for us, not for Terrasen, but for you.”

I would be having feels and starting to ship them had we not had a whole scene dedicated to Assdion being a dick and nearly kissing Lysandra without her consent sooooo

[Aedion] bowed his head a bit, glancing sidelong at the quiet street again. “My whole life has been … not about what I want. I don’t know how to choose those things.”

A little late there to make me feel sympathetic towards Assdion, SJM. You CANNOT have Assdion act as an Aelin worshiping prick and then turn around and expect me to feel bad for him.

Assdion asks Lysandra to come with him to meet his father the next day and then splooges about how much he apparently cares about Lysandra.  I don’t care.

From the shadows of his hood, he monitored the alley ahead, the shadows and shafts of moonlight, bracing himself. They’d picked the dead-end alley for a reason. The girl realized her mistake a step too late. “Oh.”

The girl is Rolfe’s barmaid. She immediately leaves and they suspect she’s Rolfe’s spy. Finally, I am free from this god awful chapter.

[mrsmarlasinger]

[Sober edit: I wrote this whole thing on Thursday night but forgot to post it lmao]

Split half a Keef root beer with my QPP about 15-20 minutes ago, so I'm on 5mg THC, and uhhhh I think I'm getting OEVs?? Because when I look at their giant wall hanging (which is a black-and-white line drawing forming super intricate and tightly woven floral patterns, with a huge yellow sunflower in the middle), I see it ripple and shimmer like heat coming off asphalt in the summer, or a flag waving in the breeze.

Also, that visual started happening FAST, like within 10 minutes of drinking the soda. But at the same time, I have a personal theory that there is a hallucination equivalent of the seizure threshold (which basically describes your personal susceptibility to having a seizure, because everyone can have one given the right factors, but some people have lower thresholds than others, which is why cutting a finger wouldn't give most people a seizure, but for me it might trigger my reflex anoxic seizures). And earlier today, while my QPP and I were sitting in the parking lot in their car, I did see some flurries of snow swirling outside and had to ask if it was real (it wasn't), even though I was 98% sure it wasn't because I'd just been outside. So maybe my hallucination threshold is just low right now.

Oh yeah, and a few minutes ago I was staring at the wall because I was seeing some little streaks of light or something, and I was like, "Whoah, so cool," and then I laughed because I realized what a fuckin' stoner move it is to stare at a wall and gush about how cool it is. Then my QPP started talking about how they feel like they're a monkey with a tail, so, you know.

It's now been about 45-50 minutes, so we each just took a dropper of that THC tincture that also gave me open-eye visuals. Well, I did do that tincture 3 out of the first 4 days of this trip, so I guess my tolerance instantly shot up because I got less high each time, and the tincture didn't do jackshit the third time even though I'd also had some gin and alcohol potentiates weed. Oh, I forgot that at Red Lobster like 2-4 hours ago, I did have three mojitos. I'd never had a mojito before (only a yummy lilikoi fauxjito) and I LOVED it! I think it's my favorite alcohol I've ever had. And I HAD to order it because in the car on the way there, I'd been writing about my MC drinking white rum in my WIP. My writing controls my life. Anyway.

I keep accidentally resting my toes against the heater and burning myself. Uhhhhh I can definitely tell I'm high, because what was I gonna say. Oh yeah! The second night we got high, the tincture was still giving me OEVs, so my perspective of the crossbeams and pipes above the beam overhead shifted so that it looked as though I was looking down at the front of a colosseum (except I think the columns were still wooden beams, and there were Egyptian pyramid vibes because it was hot and sandy). And I saw cute tan lizards crawling across the columns.

Uhh, yeah, it's been an hour and I'm deffo high. Time is becoming dilated. Things that are close to my face are becoming huge in my perception of them. My QPP gave me a Tum even though they're the one who's nauseous, not me, and I had to consider for a long moment whether how it was gonna interact with my high and if it was gonna fuck up my vibes until I finally realized it's just calcium and nothing would happen. Annnnnd I just realized I'm burning my foot on the heater.

OH FUCK I HAVE MY WRITING GROUP WITH MIDDLE-AGED MORMON WOMEN IN AN HOUR. Shit shit shit. Well, I'm definitely not showing up to that one. God fucking dammit.

Well, we are sitting in the dim light of the desk lamp and listening to Steven Universe music and it's warm and REALLY really nice. I feel great. I'm having trouble keeping hold of my thoughts, but do you think I could still do my critiques for my writing group? Maybe?? And then it wouldn't be as shitty if I don't show up because I got hella high instead?

I just called my QPP kinky because they said they wanted to touch my hand, and they thought I called them "Kinkley." Can you fucking imagine a child named Kinkley???? Fucking Utah baby name shit.

Weed has the power to make a bedroom you know like the back of your hand into the warmest, coziest place you could possibly imagine.

My QPP just said they're also getting OEVs of the wall breathing, which is similar to my visual! Isn't that the kind of visuals you're supposed to get on LSD??? I told them about mine earlier tonight, so I probably implanted the idea of that visual in their brain and caused it to happen for them too. GodDAMMIT I just burned my foot again.

Oh my fucking god, I just did my critiques and showed up to my writing group Zoom meeting high as shit. The meeting was forty minutes but felt like hours. Also, in one of the ladies' chapters, I read "get out here," which is a fine and normal phrase and made perfect sense in context, as "get out of here" minus the "of," so I commented "Typo or intentional?" because I couldn't tell if the "of" was dropped as a typo or to sound kind of AAVE. And then during the meeting she was like, "Why would this be a typo?" and I realized my mistake and was like, "Oh, I read it wrong. Uhh, I'm super tired, sorry, you can ignore that." God FUCKING dammit.

So then at the end of the meeting when they asked me if they get to read the party scene in BAIT. when I submit next time, I was like, "I think so but I don't remember because I haven't slept in two days" to push the "I fucked up because I'm tired and definitely not high!" narrative, and also because my voice was super low and slow and raspy the way it gets sometimes when I'm high. Earlier in the meeting I was keeping myself muted because I'd said I was at my best friend's house and they were sleeping, but then I did talk once because my QPP was clearly awake and talking to me and touching me, and also I might've talked to my QPP first because I kind of forgot about my muting excuse; anyway, another reason I said the "I haven't slept in two days" thing is because they'd already heard my high voice.

And honestly, I do feel very similarly to the way I did when I stayed awake for 50 hours straight, so it's not even THAT much of a lie. Regardless, I truly don't think they had any idea I was high, so thank god. The staying-awake-for-two-days thing was a fantastic excuse. I was also in the dim with my face all shadowy, so they couldn't see my eyes (which are probably red and squinty 'cause, well, you know) very well.

I'm so fucking tired. My eyes hurt. It's been like four hours since we originally dosed and like 10-15 minutes since I took another dropper of tincture after my Zoom meeting. I am now on like about 11mg of THC. I can't remember if I've ever taken more than 10mg in a single night.

We went to the mall today. We looked at beautiful formal dresses and got pretzels and Mexican candy and went to Bath & Body Works and I got two full-size candles on clearance (Watermelon Lemonade and Caramel Pumpkin Swirl) plus a Champagne Toast hand lotion (because my hands are SO DAMN DRY) for like $21 total. My QPP bought a mini Bourbon cologne and an Ocean body spray and they put on some Bourbon and I put on some Ocean before we went to dinner (and ate crab legs!) and it was soooo gender.

Oh my god, tangled earbuds when you're high are a Sisyphean knot. Hmm. I don't think "Sisyphean knot" is a thing.

Also, did I mention I went to my writing group super drunk one time? I'd thought I'd be sober by the time it started and I VERY MUCH WAS NOT, but I had to go because I was one of the submitters that week. So I tried to be super perky and alert and ✨normal✨ and yeahhh, I'm a million percent sure at least one of the five, but probably more like all five of them, realized I was not sober.

Oh yeah, I tried 2 grams of kratom yesterday. I'd only ever tried one 500mg capsule in a night before because that's what it says on the bag. I didn't really notice much, but it did make me so damn tired it was almost agonizing, like when I take a full 5mg melatonin tablet instead of a half or quarter (my favorite psych professor once said melatonin is a placebo, but I'm starting to think he's a dirty liar) and in the extremely brief period before I fall asleep I'm just miserably, unbearably, painfully exhausted.

Also? We found a smoke shop that sells psilocybin spores, since they're legal because the fruits contain psilocybin but the spores don't. Fuck yeah. And because I know you're gonna be anxious while reading this, Katie: ✨ I swear I will never cultivate shrooms, NSA ✨

[And then I just listened to music until I fell asleep]

[slightly-weird-man]

Right , so , this thing needs a disclaimer warning: I wrote this over an all-nighter fueled by coffee and alcohol, and so there are many , many plot holes that don't make any sense. If anyone ever actually sees it, feel free to shout at me about how it's shit.

Anyway, here's a short film script I wrote about two disabled lesbians , helping each other be happy at a house party. I am not mute, deaf , or a lesbian, so I am intensely sorry if this offends anyone.

I do have a basic plot for an entire film of this thing, as well as internal monologue scripts for both Jane and Lilly in this, but I won't post those atm, because they're a bit sh*t - if anybody wants them, ask me and I'll post them then

Other Means

Characters

Lilly- mute, from birth. Knows sign language, and goes to a college out of town. Know the host because they’re online friends. Is mature and confident. Has had experiences with women. Eleanor from the good place, or Ramona from Scott pilgrim or Linda from blood brothers(theatre show- not a film surprisingly). Forward, strong, funny, and not afraid to speak her mind. However, she is also kind, and sympathetic which should be a key part of her character- she’s struggled , and now doesn’t want other people to struggle.

Jane - deaf, newly, due to a scuba diving accident. Doesn’t know much sign language, and still goes to the same college. Isn’t comfortable talking, because she’s still learning to control her volume, because now she can’t hear her own voice. Knows the host from that college, before she was deaf. Syd from I Am Not okay With This, or Vanya from Umbrella Academy. Still confident, and tries her hardest, but is still struggling due to new pressures.

Setting:

A house party- hosted by Sam, friend of both, asexual. Is not a dick. He shows up to introduce them. 15 people or less, won’t see more than a few at a time.

Open, black screen . “ southern nights “ by Glen Campbell plays, as the picture fades in. We see Lilly standing behind a conversation, with a sign hung around her neck saying “physically can’t talk. Mute since birth. I’d love to chat though!” she has a drink in her hand, and is slumping/leaning against a wall.

Cut to a POV shot of Jane , trying to conversate with a notepad, but struggling

Cut to a shot of Lilly , signing to Sam ,”what’s her name?”

Sam, obviously intrigued: that’s my friend Jane. She lost her hearing recently, so she’s still trying to acclimate. Why?

Lilly signs, “nothing”.

Cut to a symmetrical shot of Lilly and Jane, with Lilly on the left and jane on the right. Lilly signs at Jane, but Jane makes it clear that she can’t understand her. Writes on her notepad

Notepad: don’t speak BSL yet sorry. I’m Jane, what’s your name?

She visibly passes the notepad to Lilly

Notepad: Hi Jane, I’m Lilly.

Points to sign hung round neck

Notepad: you seemed a little out of your depth, so I just wanted to give a helping hand.

Hands the notepad back to Jane, who looks visibly touched by Lilly’s kindness.

Notepad: thank you! That’s so kind! I am sorry I can’t do BSL tho, it seems like it would be easier for you

Jane goes to give Lilly the notepad back, but then Lilly pulls a notepad of her own out of a pocket/bag, doing that thing you do when you reveal something, raising it and showing it off.

*from now speech is on notepads, except from when specified otherwise*

Lilly: it’s fine , we’ll just have to communicate through other means”

title card, somehow incorporating notepads, the lesbian flag, Keanu reeves, super mario, and those hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil monkeys.

Open back on Jane and Lilly playing Mario Kart. It’s a shot from the tv’s POV, so we can see their faces and the glow of the TV, but not what they’re playing. Jane is inexperienced at this, and it should be showing- she’s grunting, and mumbling, and cursing but quite loudly. Lilly on the other hand, is very calm and quite good at the game. However, after something particularly funny that Jane mumbles loudly, Lilly throws down her controller and starts to laugh silently. Understandably, Jane is quite confused

Jane: what’s wrong? Are you alright?

Lilly sits up, reads note, breaks into more silent laughter. Composes herself quickly once she see’s Jane’s concerned face

Lilly: no, I’m fine- worry about yourself! You were making noises like a drunk hamster!

Cut to an over Lilly’s shoulder shot , Jane reads this note, and then looks embarrassed, and looks around to see if everyone’s staring at her. Lilly perceives this mood, writes

Lilly: don’t worry, no one cares anymore- they’re all sloshed enough to not

She gestures to the tv

Lilly: another game?

Cut back to symmetrical. They tense back into playing positions. If I can, I want to transition here like a Scott Pilgrim one, with someone walking in front of the camera, then swiping the scene to a different scene. Lilly and Jane are on the same couch, but are now much more relaxed.

Lilly: ok , shag marry kill… me, Sam , Keanu Reeves.

Jane: f*ck off, I’m not answering that

Lily: come on!

Jane: alright then…. I’d marry you, shag Sam, and kill Keanu reeves

Lily: (draws a big shocked face) how dare you kill Keanu Reeves! The man is a gift to the world!

Jane, now quite drunk: exactly why I’m sure he would die so that the two of you could live- I’d rather not have two of my friends die, and honestly, I’d look forward to shagging Sam, have you seen that man’s shoe size

Lilly rolls her eyes, while Jane stares dreamily off towards a sam in the distance, as if a 1920’s flapper for the briefest of moments

Lilly: alright, two truths and a lie now, k?

Jane motions for her to carry on

Lilly: alright, here they are: I am bisexual, I have had a run in with the new York mob, and 50% of this party thinks you’re cute.

Jane looks confused for a moment, perhaps raising an eyebrow,

Jane: I can definitely picture you as the sort of person to incur a mobster’s wrath, and I have always had a decent gaydar, but there is no way that half of the people here think I’m cute- that’s the lie!

Lilly shakes her head, while making an exaggerated thing like she’s tutting.

Lilly: you weren’t wrong about that gaydar, but I’m afraid you pegged me as a little too open- the fairer sex is where it’s at girl!

Jane: really? 50%?

Lilly does the wobbly hand thing, to signify “roughly”

Lilly,: from what I’ve picked up on at the drinks tables, and my own personal opinion, yeah.

Jane is confused with this statement, motioning between her and Lilly ,and mouthing “cute?”

Lilly: yes, you’re cute- it’s your turn though.

Jane blushes, thinks for a moment, then gets to scribbling.

Jane: alright-I once discovered a genuine David bowie signature on an old £10 note, I’m bisexual, and I play in played in a synthpop band.

Jane should start staring sadly into the middle distance at this point, tearing up if possible. Lilly shouldn’t notice, because she’s pondering and scribbling.

Lilly: I know that the David Bowie one is false, because that is a felony in the UK! She looks up and notices that Jane is looking down. She reaches out to hold Jane’s shoulder.

c/u of Jane’s sad face, nearly crying .Music switches now, from black parade to some Kanye west.

Jane: is there music playing?

Lilly nods

Jane: what song?

Lilly shrugs

Lilly: some rap shite. Not my style.

Jane continues to break down over no music, while Lilly rummages in her pockets. Suddenly, (in c/u) Lilly grabs Jane’s hand, opens her palm, and places an in ear headphone in it.

Lilly: heard about this from a deaf buddy of mine. Should do you right.

Then from silence, we hear the first few chords of “space oddity” fade in. Jane’s face lights up , and she looks up to Lilly.

Low angled shot from Jane’s perspective, of Lilly reaching down to her, in the traditional “shall we dance” way. Jane gets up, and they dance simply for a bit, before Jane pulls Lilly in for a deep hug, and we get the cliché, heads over the shoulders shot.

We then cut to them on the pavement in front of the house. They are leaning on each other as they stroll. Careless whisper is playing softly in the background, like it’s emanating loudly from the house.

We see Jane reach into a side pocket, and pull out the same notepad as before.

Jane: so… do you wanna go for coffee sometime?

Lilly reads this with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Lilly: so, a date then. Are you sure? I’m quite high maintenance .

She points to the sign , still hung around her neck. c/u of Jane leaning in, to whisper something into Lilly’s ear.

Jane, speaking softly: yes I’m sure, silly

Cut to a shot of them separating, and then walking away from the camera, backs to the audience, holding hands. If we need to, roll credits over this with soft music- it must be love by madness- specifically the line " how can it be that we can say so much without words"

[thethirdwheel404]

Med Rewatch Series (#4)

S3: Nothing to fear. See what happens.

-GUYS IT’S AVA

-yes.

-Ava: “It’s leaking.” Connor: “that’s impossible.” BITCH FUKCING BET

-Ava’s like bruh you ain’t shit

-ava undermining connor to latham. hmm...... not that good for my argument, but... it just means, greater redemption arc

-okay why does Connor gotta look at her so mean tho?? bro chill

-literally why is everyone so horny

-haha sarah yessss. the clipped ‘dr. reese’ ‘dr. charles.’

-i have no idea why but sarah and noah are just walking through the ed and I keep expecting ava to fucking pop out of nowhere and save her from the convo. oh my god.

-okay sarah’s storyline in this one is pretty good. the lady, the patient, she’s great.

-sarah is adorable right now. so professional but also chill

-’disingenious’ okay damn go off

-okay but back up to my point before, i’ve always thought of ava of being like this lowkey protector of women (ik it’s a little out of left field) so everytime I see a guy trying to talk to flirt with a girl i am always expecting ava to just swoop in and save the day. ESPECIALLY with sarah, and its gotten to the point while watching her and noah I ACTUALLY expected her to pop up. dumb monkey brain never learns --- I actually wrote this so here it is

-god sarah is the fucking best

-uh oh, the fact that there’s an ava/connor scene right after this is SENDING ME (not in the good way bc literally stop it - especially)

-this is the scene where ava brings him coffee and his hair is a mess. It shows empathy (if you take away the romantic ava subtext). Like if you look at it on the surface, it’s a great scene, she’s nice. But then she goes and starts talking about robin and how she is also kind of his patient, which could be read as undermining (listen ava stans I promise i’m not looking for negative ava points it just happens)

-BUT THE BEST THING IS IT DOESN’T GO THAT FAR. I was fully expecting him to get accusatory of her criticizing robin but he doesn’t so we’re good. This scene is completely fine without the romantic subtext, which is fantastic

-this scene is also fun if you think about those au’s where sarah or ava has really severe mental illnesses that effect her work bc then the exact things she says to connor ‘you work our schedule then you go home to your girlfriend who is basically your patient too’ and- Now that i think about it in those stories connor would just be super super supportive aw well

- i do really like that scene - one of the best points of connor/ava brotp

-Ava: “At least it hasn’t affected your sunny disposition” ma’am I love you

-Ava: “keep up the good work” she said keep making mistakes and I keep getting paid let’s go this is the team

-is this the one where the baby was fake? that was a really good episode

-aw wait there’s actually a baby nevermind

-ava’s best storylines are one’s where she’s independent of connor. we’ve established that. it’s not that I hate connor, I just get scared when they’re in the same room for a long time bc then they inevitably start talking relationships and undertones

-when we get to the actual relationship i’m gonna vomit

-why does Connor have to be right everytime? Come on, it’s annoying, and not just for me, right?

-everytime he’s right and ava is wrong, it makes ava seem impulsive. As we’ve established before, she’s not impulsive (EXCEPT WHEN CONNOR IS BOWLING OVER HER DECISIONS AND CONGRATULATED FOR IT). she’s a good doctor, she wouldn’t be at med with connor if she was not

-yeah it’s that classic thing where surgeons are always partial to surgery

-ava tends to lead to the more serious possible outcome. actually, that’s really all it is, she tends to believe the most drastic possibilities. she makes the tough decisions when no one else can/will. she’s fucking amazing, and that’s why we love her - but everytime connor bowls over her decisions, she seems impulsive, she seems incompetent, almost dramatic. med. no.

-especially on this case - remember that this is CONNOR’S mistake! ava is cleaning up after it! connor should not be congratulated when, from the way I look at it, connor’s just getting lucky.

-gosh sarah’s fantastic

- nobody:

-sarah: *rolls sleeves*

-oh yeah she steals sarah’s prescription pad. i really do hate all the people sarah treats bc they like totally take advantage of her and make her distrust them so much that she feels super unsafe. ava will protect her (in my brain ava is a instinctual protector of women)

-okay but literally in this scene sarah is like floored and she makes a deal of apologizing to charles but like,,, sarah Was right. babey no...

-ik that most medical dramas are all about doctors disagreeing over things but,, med would not be able to propel story without it. literally everything story beat is-

character A: I think this.

Char B: No! we’re going to do this.

*does the thing* *thing goes wrong*

B: See? I told you so.

-also most of the time something Else happens and A happens to be right the entire time. (and the amount of times character b happens to be female and char A is a man is astounding. literally ava in her first ep, and ethan and april now. holy shit I hate this show so much.)

-i boiled down med to its bare essentials!

-sarah: *prescription pad goes missing* *sees woman who wanted a note* *dramatic music plays*

-sarah... please no. she’s about to do a bad thing....

-sarah’s storyline makes me so fucking sad.

-the way sarah fixes her shirt/jacket when she tries to be in control

-SARAH GOING TO BE ALONE SO SHE CRIES ON THE ROOF - MY FUCKING HEART????? stop it med fucking stop it (i got so upset in my first draft i wrote stopping fuck it) - but that’s some reesker inspo right there

-med writers really try to make everything a ‘thing’

nobody: ...

april: it’s because i’m not a doctor, isn’t it.

(alt:

ethan: ...

doris: it’s bc you two are fucking, right )

-but maggie is taking none of their shit

-maggie: if you two don’t stop misbehaving i’m gonna move your desks apart

-the way all the people with common sense talk to the doctors like children is fucking hilarious (sharon: ‘I expect better from you, Dr. Manning’

-if nat pulls the ‘i know this, i’m a mother’ card i am suing.

-I’m suing.

-she pulled the ‘I’m a mother’ card AND the ‘my husband died’ card oh wow! a two for!

-okay honestly. Im gonna be real with u. If i came up with nat’s story about her fear of heights, then I wrote will helping her over her fear of heights, I would be proud of that. That being said, it feels suuuuper out of place right here. it’d be in place in like a thirty minute comedy (like the emotional development and pay off is on brand for like brooklyn nine nine) but it just feels suuuper weird.

-like having an hour per ep means it feels like they should have had enough time to better develop the story

-latham: ‘Did you go behind my back?’ YES LATHAM YES HE DID. FLAME HIS ASS

-i want to see what happens with connor’s benching storyline

-now i get anxious whenever they’re in surgery (you can use this for inspo)

-okay what. just bc connor found something wrong he gets to SCRUB IN??? BRO HE SHOULD NOT GET A SURGERY FOR NOTICING A MANUFACTURING MISTAKE??? this is so FUCKING STUPID

- i hate it here

-the way sarah folds her hands behind her back when she goes into charles’ office - adorable.

-okay what the fuck. charles asks sarah into his office and asks for her diagnosis of him, which makes it seem like he is actually trying to get better, but then when sarah answers his question (incorrectly btw, charles is not fine) he’s such a complete jerk. dude everybody needs to stop hating on sarah come on wtf. that’s literally so mean.

-god she is literally too pure she should not be a psychiatrist.

-that being said. she is beautiful.

-I FUCKING FORGOT THAT THE PATIENT SLASHED SARAH’S TIRES

-she really can’t catch a break. babey

-sarah noah brotp is probably peak

-its very rare for med to have two characters of opposite genders interact and not get together so this is a special thing

This episode wasn’t the worst. I wrote that fun little thing about Ava shutting down Noah’s advances on Sarah. The Ava/Connor cafeteria scene is fantastic for their interactions with each other, and like always, we just sit through the other storylines.

thanks for sticking through. not a lot to say, this was more me just talking about the general tropes used on med, but i did write a whole 500 words for casual reesker so its a good day

read the rest here:

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Extra

[funface2]

40 of Eddie Izzard’s funniest jokes and quotes ahead of his October shows at Edinburgh’s Festival Theatre – The Scotsman

Self-professed “action transvestite” Eddie Izzard is one of Britain’s best loved comedians, and a growing presence on the political scene.

Self-professed “action transvestite” Eddie Izzard is one of Britain’s best loved comedians, and a growing presence on the political scene.

(Getty Images)

His rambling, whimsical monologues throw up surreal imagery and observational comedy, which combine to resemble something you might dream up when you’re neither fully awake nor fully asleep.

We compiled 40 of his best moments ahead of his new stand-up show Wunderbar at Festival Theatre, Edinburgh, on Saturday 19 and Sunday 20 October.

You can buy tickets on Capital Theatre’s website here.

(Warning: contains some strong language)

(Getty Images)

“Guns don’t kill people, people kill people. And monkeys do too – if they have a gun.”

“Puberty is the sickest joke God plays on us. So you’re just noticing members of the sex: ‘Girls girls, ooo’. Naturally you want to look your best, and God says ‘No! You will look the worst you’ve ever looked in your life!'”

“Performance enhancing drugs are banned in the Olympics. OK, we can swing with that. But performance debilitating drugs should not be banned. Smoke a joint and win the hundred meters, fair play for you. That’s pretty damn good. Unless someone’s dangling a Mars Bar off in the distance…”

“If you’ve never seen an elephant ski, you’ve never been on acid.”

“I like my coffee like I like my women. In a plastic cup.”

“Cats have a scam going – you buy the food, they eat the food, they go away; that’s the deal.”

“Cats leap up walls! Six foot walls, they just go – ‘fwang’! They always land perfectly, you never see cats on a wall having a problem, do you? You never see a cat going, ‘F***ing ‘ell! I’m not sure about this’, and a cat on the ground, going, ‘Easy, Ginger! I’ll walk you down!'”

“I’ve learnt that the world is 4500 million years old. If you’re very religious, then it’s not 4500 million years old, it’s 6000 years old. One of these is not correct.”

“Scrabble was invented by Nazis to p*** off kids with dyslexia. This is true, they proved this one. The word dyslexia was also invented by Nazis to p*** off kids with dyslexia.”

“Do you know the three rules of Fascism? Make s*** up, scream it loudly, and then kill people.”

“Richard The Lionheart: one of the greatest English kings we have going. Born in Oxford, fought all the fights, fought against Saladin in the third crusade, good looking, played the banjo, the David Beckham of kings, right? Revered by the English; English as English Pie. And he spoke… French.”

“You notice how they always put the fruit and veg at the entrance to the supermarket? You go in thinking ‘this is a fresh shop, everything in here is fresh! I will do well to shop here’. You never go straight to the bit with the toilet paper, loo brushes and such do you? You’d think ‘this is a poo shop! Everything in here is themed on poo!'”

“I’ve done a bit of Latin in my time… but I can control it.”

“Horseshoes are lucky. Horses have four bits of lucky nailed to their feet. They should be the luckiest animals in the world. They should rule the country.”

“I grew up in Europe, where the history comes from.”

“If you’re choking in a restaurant you can just say the magic words, ‘Heimlich maneuver,’ and all will be well. Trouble is, it’s difficult to say ‘Heimlich maneuver’ when you’re choking to death.”

“I am a professional transvestite, so I can run about in heels and not fall over. Because if a woman falls over wearing heels, that’s embarrassing. But if a bloke falls over wearing heels, you have to kill yourself. It’s the end of your life.”

“What shall we call our son so he does not get the s*** kicked out of him at school? We shall call him Englebert Humperdink! Yes, that’ll work.”

“There’s not much makeup in the army, is there? No. They only have that nighttime look, and that’s a bit slapdash, isn’t it?”

“Squirrels always eat nuts with two hands, always two hands, and occasionally, they stop and go, oh, uh, ah, as if they’re going, ‘Did I leave the gas on? No! I’m, no I’m a f***ing squirrel!'”

“If I were Achilles, I would put my foot in a f*** off block of concrete!”

“I couldn’t tell the kids at school I was a transvestite. They’d kill me with sticks. ‘Why are we killing him with sticks?’ ‘I don’t know… he said a word we didn’t understand… and he won at Scrabble with it…'”

“There’s two positions in snowboarding. One is looking cool and the other is DEAD!”

“Racist people, interestingly, are never as polite as smokers. Have you noticed that? Smokers always go, ‘Do you mind if I smoke? Oh, you do? Okay, I’ll go outside and have a cigarette.’ Racist people never go, ‘Do you mind if I’m racist? Oh, I’ll go outside… f***ing blue people, eh? Coming here, stealing our hamsters…”

“Charles Darwin wrote a famous book. And that book was an interesting book, because it was called ‘Monkey-Monkey-Monkey-Monkey-Monkey-Monkey-You'”.

“Today’s sermon is taken from a magazine that I found in a hedge. This season’s lipstick colours will be in the frosted pink area – and nails to match… and this reminds me rather of our lord Jesus. Because, surely, when Jesus rode into town on a donkey, he must have gotten tarted up a bit.”

“People think I’m on drugs and I’m not. Just a bit of coffee. When I take drugs I start going, ‘Oh, would you like insurance?'”

“I was very driven as a boy scout. Very driven. Driven everywhere I was.”

“They went to the Moon and they brought back rock. Trouble is, we’ve got rock. That was the one thing we didn’t need, wasn’t it?”

“Words like ‘kiosk’: that’s a Viking word and it came from when they would rape and pillage. Because they would rape and pillage and awful and blood everywhere and limbs hacked and money stolen, and then they’d say, ‘If you have enjoyed today’s experience, you can get some souvenirs in the kiosk down on the beach.”

“Picasso, he should have been a taxidermist. ‘I’ve done your dog. It’s got nine eyes down the side, I made his head all square, 15 legs.'”

“The same people who make toasters make showers. For they have a turney button too that lies. For we all know turn turn turn turn for hot. Turn turn turn turn for cold. But the only position we’re interested in is the position one nanomillimeter between fantastically hot, and f***ing freezing.”

“I’m an action transvestite really, so it’s running, jumping, climbing trees… putting on make up when you’re up there!”

“Pears can just f*** off too. Because they’re gorgeous little beasts, but they’re ripe for half an hour, and you’re never there. They’re like a rock or they’re mush. You put them in the bowl, and they go, ‘Don’t ripen yet, don’t ripen yet. Wait til he goes out the room! Ripen! Now now now!'”

“In the Christian faith God created Adam in his own image, yeah? That was good, but 65 million years before that God created the dinosaurs using the image of his cousin Ted. Ted was not the black sheep of the family, he was the huge f***ing monster of the family.”

“I love technology! If you have techno-joy, you get the instructions, you unwrap it, and you throw the instructions out the window! Forget them! F*** ’em! I must know how this works, I’ve used machines before!”

“When a bird gets sucked into an engine they call it ‘bird strike’. It’s not bird strike, it’s ‘engine suck’!”

“I grew up in the 70s, when the careers adviser used to come to school, and he used to get the kids together and say, ‘Look, I advise you to get a career, what can I say? That’s it.'”

“That’s what narcissism is all about; looking in the mirror everyday and thinking ‘Damn, I’d like to shag myself.'”

“MAC gave me 55 lipsticks to test. These are the same lipsticks I got caught stealing by the police when I was 15. How ironic.”

“If there is a God, his plan is very similar to someone not having a plan.”

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Bài viết 40 of Eddie Izzard’s funniest jokes and quotes ahead of his October shows at Edinburgh’s Festival Theatre – The Scotsman đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Funface.

from Funface https://funface.net/best-jokes/40-of-eddie-izzards-funniest-jokes-and-quotes-ahead-of-his-october-shows-at-edinburghs-festival-theatre-the-scotsman/

[fortheloveofpearlet]

Straightjacket Feeling - Pearlet [Chapter 4]

This is something I wrote AGES and AGES ago. First few chapters set in college but its NOT a college AU I swear! Kinda based on ‘Do I Wanna Know’ by the Artic Monkeys, lyrics throughout fic. Kinda angsty, also includes a small dose of Viadore. After the next chapter it will finally stop being in college! 

Chapter 4

Daytona Beach was already abuzz with Spring Breakers when they arrived some seven hours later. It was already dark when Matt pulled the SUV up in front of the hotel. When Jason opened the door he was bombarded by noise from every angle and he groaned a little. He'd half hoped he would get some studying done while he was here but that was looking unlikely. Their hotel had an outdoor pool with a bar next to it and there was loud music blaring from large speakers that people were dancing to. They all exited the car and grabbed their bags before checking in, thankfully Jason, Kurtis and Matt all had separate rooms this time. 

'So we gonna go party or what?' Matt asked as they headed to their rooms.

'No, need sleep.' Jake grumbled, clearly not over his hangover yet.

'He piqued too soon. In fact I think I'm going to call it a night too, how about you Bri?' Brian squeezed his boyfriend’s hand.

'Yeah I'm pretty beat.' Bri nodded.  

'Me too.' Kurtis agreed.

'Fucking light weights!' Matt groaned. 'You'll come party with me won't you Jay?' He beamed at the younger boy, the smile he had so much trouble saying no to.

'I'm really tired Matt.' Jason pulled a face. Matt widened his eyes and quivered his bottom lip; his fucking puppy dog face, the one he knew Jason couldn't resist.

'Just one drink?' He batted his eyes. Jason groaned.

'One drink.' He repeated. 'Let me get changed first though.' 

Suddenly Matt was engulfing him in a huge hug.

'You're the best.' Matt spoke into his ear and Jason practically melted. That made it worth it.

-----------------------------------------

No sooner had Jason changed into a more weather appropriate outfit, because despite being night time it was still hotter in Daytona than it was in New York in the day time, Matt was knocking on his door. He put on a pair of his tightest shorts, the ones that made his ass look incredible, a Pearl Liaison vest top (because he knew Matt loved her) and his old boots. He opened the door and Matt was smiling at him. He too had opted for shorts and a baggy vest top but his was a plain dark green one. He spotted Jason's shirt straight away.

'Oh god can you get me one of them for graduation?' He pointed to the queen on Jason's top, swooning a little. 'I don't even care that she's a dude, she is so fucking hot.' 

Jason laughed, rolling his eyes. 

'Maybe, if you're good.'

'I'm always good.' He winked at Jason and started leading him towards the bar by the pool. Matt whispered something in the bartender's ear whilst Jason was distracted taking in the chaos. It was loud, really loud, and he would bet he and Matt were the only sober ones here. He felt Matt nudge him in the arm and he tore his attention away from the other party goers to see Matt handing him a plastic cup.

'What's this?' Jason sniffed it, that familiar smell of battery acid.

'That's the Violet Kiss.' He smiled brightly. Jason hadn't had one of Matt's secret concoctions since that first night he took him to that party. He took a small sip, he couldn't deny it was really nice.

'Are you ever going to tell me what's in it?' Jason said as he followed Matt over to a free sun lounger where he sat down and Jason sat next to him.

'Maybe one day. But not tonight.' 

'What about where you came up with the name?'

'Again, maybe one day, but not tonight.' Matt had a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at Jason. 'You should take your hair down, you look so much prettier with your hair down.'

Jason's heart skipped a beat. Did Matt just call him pretty? 

'I uhm...'

'Oh don't start with the uhming again.' Matt laughed. 'Take your hair down.' 

Jason bit his lip and nodded using his free hand to pull his hair and from its bun and let it cascade down his back. He ruffled it a little, Matt was smiling at him.

'Much better.' He whispered. Jason didn't know what to make of this. Was Matt hitting on him? He wasn't even drunk either, which made it all the more confusing. 

'Yeah.' Just stuttered. 

'You know, I always meant to talk to you about that night I came to your dorm. You know when Bri came home and outside in the corridor...'

When you kissed me Jason said in his head when Matt trailed off.

'What about it?' He croaked, were they finally going to talk about it? Had Matt just called him pretty and now he wanted to talk about their kiss? 

'Well,' Matt placed his hand gently on Jason's leg and Jason felt like a thunderbolt had just shot through his body. 'I've never done anything like that before you know? But I just...I can't explain it. I just had this urge you know? And I knew I should have talked to you about it but it never seemed like the right time. You know sometimes...sometimes I think...' Matt trailed off and it felt to Jason as though he was leaning closer. Was he going to kiss him again? Had Jason brushed his teeth? His head was spinning but Matt was definitely moving closer. 'Sometimes I think that maybe I'd like to-'

'Oh my god you are like super fucking hot!' A female voice interrupted them and suddenly a girl was falling down to the sun lounger between Matt and Jason. No, no, no fuck off! Jason screamed internally. 

'Why thank you.' Matt smiled at her, seemingly ignoring Jason was there anymore. Jason wanted to scream at her, he and Matt were just getting somewhere, and finally, she couldn't have chosen a worse moment.

'I'm Chloe.' She was clearly drunk and she ran her hand through Matt's hair. 'And you are fucking gorgeous.' 

'I'm Matt and I'm flattered.' He chuckled a little. 'This is my friend Jason.' He pointed passed her to Jason but she didn't look.

'Are you coming to the club? Everyone's going to the club.' 

'Uhm I'm not sure. Are we going to the club Jay?' He looked at Jason over Chloe's shoulder. Jason pulled a face and shook his head frantically. Matt half-smiled. 'Sorry, we've been driving for two days, maybe tomorrow?' 

'Ohhhh come on, we'll have a really good time.' She kissed Matt's neck now, her other hand working its way up Matt's thigh. He gasped and closed his eyes. Jason clenched his jaw. Fuck this, he wasn't going to be the third wheel. He especially wasn't going to sit and watch while the boy he loved hooked up with some drunk bimbo. He got up and stormed away. He briefly looked over his shoulder to see if Matt had noticed but he hadn't. His eyes were still closed as Chloe continued to work her lips on his neck. He didn't blame Chloe, Matt was fucking gorgeous, and Jason was surprised there weren't women lining up down the block for him. But Jason didn't want to be part of it. He also didn't want to go back to his room because he would no doubt curl up in bed and cry pathetically. So he went for a walk, and tried to burn the image of Chloe kissing Matt's neck from his mind.

-----------------------------------------

The sand was soft under his bare feet. He loved the way he sank into it as he walked, he loved the way it felt between his toes. He loved the feel of the soft sea breeze on his skin. He loved New York but sometimes, Matt missed the beach, a lot.

 He could see him sitting down by the shore, his long hair blowing in the wind. He lifted a bottle to his lips and downed it and then made a disgusted noise that made Matt laugh. Jason turned, hearing the noise and he rolled his eyes as he saw Matt closing in on him.

'That was quick, even for you.' Jason sighed as Matt fell to the sand next to him.

'What was quick?' Matt took the bottle from Jason, it was whiskey.

'The sex.' 

'Where did you get this?' Matt chuckled taking a sip from it. He saw Jason shrug.

'The bartender was preoccupied with his own bimbo so I swiped it. Seems like a recurring thing down here.' 

Matt laughed again.

'So Chloe was a bimbo?'

'Wasn't she?' Jason turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 

'I don't know I wasn't with her long enough to find out. I left after I realised you did a disappearing act.' 

Jason's facial expression turned into more of a frown. 

'You didn't sleep with her?' He snatched he bottle back from Matt.

'No!' Matt scoffed. 'I'm not Jake.' 

'Oh come on Matt, you might not be Jake but you aren't exactly a virgin either.' Jason rolled his eyes and swigged from the bottle, making the disgusted noise again.

'What are you implying?' Matt frowned now, and if Jason wasn't mistaken he thought Matt looked a little annoyed.

'Well I mean...we both know you get around.'

'Fuck you!' Matt spat, taking Jason back. He'd never seen Matt get angry before. 'I don't know what you think you know about me, but you're wrong.' 

'Oh really?' Jason knew he should just drop it but he didn't drink a lot so the alcohol he had consumed had gone straight to his head. 

'You know what, I don't have to explain myself to you. I don't even know why I bothered to come and find you.' He stood back up picking up his shoes. 'Just try not to drown yeah?' He spun around and headed back up the beach. Jason bit his lip feeling bad. He jumped up as quick as he could, grabbing the whiskey and his boots before attempting to run after Matt.

'Matt stop! I didn't mean that the way it sounded.' 

'Yes you did.' Matt turned back to him. He looked hurt. 'You as good as called me a fucking man whore Jason! Get your facts straight before you go making accusations ok? I thought you were my friend, I thought you got me.' He turned to leave again but Jason grabbed his shoulder.

'I am your friend! I'm sorry Matt it's just that from what I've seen...you do seem to have a lot of...female company.'

'And that immediately makes me some kind of whore?' Matt stopped again and folded his arms over his chest. 'Don't jump to conclusions when you don't know what the fuck you're talking about it.' 

Jason thought he was going to march off again but stayed put, glaring at Jason. 

'Well you've got to admit it looks a certain kind of way.' 

'Yeah well looks can be deceiving.' Matt sighed unfolding his arms and running his fingers through his hair. 'You wanna know the truth? I've only ever slept with two women. I was a chubby kid remember? Girls never looked at me. The first girl I slept with was in freshman year of college and I couldn't believe my luck that a hot girl wanted me. And the only other girl there has ever been was a long term girlfriend. We met towards the end of freshman year and dated right up until just before I met you. I'm not some kind of whore that just jumps into bed with anyone Jason. In fact I still don't get why girls are always hanging off of me, because to me, I'm still that fat dorky kid from high school. I don't see myself the way they see me! So yeah I like the attention, I like when a hot girl throws herself at me because it makes me feel good but I do not sleep with them all. I thought you knew me well enough to know I wasn't like that but I guess I was wrong.' A small tear rolled down Matt's cheek as he turned away from Jason again and started walking away. Jason dropped his shoes and drink to the floor and took off after Matt. He grabbed him by the shoulders when he reached him and turned him to face him and then he didn't think anymore. He took hold of Matt's face and he kissed him. It was much more than the small kiss they'd had once before. Jason kissed him hard and bit Matt's bottom lip to let him know he wanted access and Matt allowed it. Soon after Jason's tongue was in Matt's mouth, massaging the older boys tongue, Jason holding his face firmly all the while. Matt was so taken aback by Jason's surge of confidence his arms just hung limply at his sides as he let Jason take the lead. The kiss lasted several minutes and when it broke they were both panting.

'You are beautiful Matthew. Inside and out. Never, ever let me hear you doubt that.' Jason told him. Then he picked his stuff up from the sand and walked passed Matt towards the hotel. Matt just stood there frozen to the spot. His heart was hammering in his chest. He'd always had his suspicions that Jason had a crush on him, but of course he never would have said anything because he didn't want to ruin their friendship. But more worryingly, Matt had always had a suspicion that he too had a crush on Jason. He'd tried to write it off as a phase, he couldn't be gay could he? But that kiss had actually sent chills down his spine. For the first time in his life Matt had felt truly alive. And he wouldn't be happy until he had more. 

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Jason was avoiding Matt. When he'd woken up the next morning his head had hurt from the whiskey and his one coherent memory of the previous night was grabbing Matt and kissing him. Matt was acting completely normal as if nothing had happened but Jason was a bundle of nerves. Had he ruined their friendship? Was Matt just acting cool because he had to? Maybe when they got back to college Matt was never going to speak to him again. 

 Jason hadn't been out drinking with them since that night. He'd spent his nights in his room studying and Matt didn't even care enough to check on him like he normally would have done. Jason didn't blame him, it was his own fault. He was starting to wish he'd stayed on campus, then maybe he and Matt would still be friends. On their last day before they started the long drive back tomorrow, Jason and Kurtis headed down to the beach. 

'I still can't believe you just ran off after without seeing what he would say! He probably thinks you regretted it the moment you did, that's probably why he's not talking to you.' Kurtis sighed.

'I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm starting to wish I hadn't told you.' Jason groaned. They were looking for a spot on the beach that wasn't over run with obnoxious college students, somewhere away from the crowds so they could relax for a bit. But they were spotted. 

'Jason! Kurtis! Over here!' It was Bri waving them over. Jason rolled his eyes under his sun glasses. He knew he couldn't very well pretend he hadn't seen him. Kurtis shrugged.

'You have to see him at some point. We've got to get a ride back with them tomorrow.'

Jason rolled his eyes again and they headed over to the rest of their gang. 

'Where the hell have you been hiding?' Jake playfully punched Jason in the arm. It hurt but Jason hoped Jake didn't notice.

'Studying.'

'Urgh dork.' Jake groaned. Jason ignored him. He also tried to ignore Matt who was sat on a towel smoking a cigarette. He was shirtless and his skin was sun kissed and Jason felt a little weak at the sight of his toned abs and tattooed arms. He set his towel out in front of Matt so he didn't have to look at him and Kurtis set his down next to Jason. Kurtis immediately whipped his own shirt off and laid back on his towel folding his arms under his head and slipping on his headphones. Jake and Roxy were now making out, her straddling him in the middle of a public beach. It made Jason cringe. The Brian's were playing some kind of game with a ball closer to the water. That left Jason and Matt. Jason wasn't the kind of guy that revelled in taking his clothes off in public but it was sweltering hot and he'd made the stupid decision to wear a black t-shirt. All the other guys on the beach were shirtless so he tried to not put too much thought into when he stripped it off and folded it neatly before putting it in his bag. He could practically feel Matt's eyes on the back of his head as he tied his hair back into a bun. He knew he'd have to speak to him eventually, but every time Jason looked at him he went bright red. So he decided to keep looking straight ahead when he spoke.

'Sorry about the other night.' He spoke so quietly he wasn't even sure Matt would hear him. There was a long pause and he thought maybe he hadn't heard him but then Matt spoke.

'S'ok.' 

Jason bit his lip. Was that all? Was that really all he got?

'Are we...you know...are we ok?' He said now still not looking at Matt.

'Yeah why wouldn't we be? You're the one that's making a big deal out of it.' 

Jason turned to look at Matt now, pulling his sunglasses onto his head. 

'What's that supposed to mean?' He frowned. 

'I mean, you're the one that's been avoiding me. I forgot about it as soon as you walked away.' Matt still had his sunglasses on so Jason couldn't tell what he was thinking. But his comment hurt, and if he didn't know any better he would think that's why Matt had said it.

'Good, glad that's settled then.' Jason spat and turned back around so he didn't have to look at his asshole friend anymore. Matt bit his lip. He hadn't meant that, not at all. The truth was he'd thought of nothing but that kiss since. And that scared him but it also annoyed him that Jason was acting this way. 

'Whatever.' Matt scoffed lighting a new cigarette.

'You know what? I'm glad you're graduating soon. It'll make avoiding you so much easier.' Jason shook his head, trying to keep his eyes focused on the Brian's. 

'You don't mean that.' Matt's voice was suddenly so sad and it actually made Jason feel a little bad. For a second. But then he remembered what Matt had just said to him and he thought, good, I'm glad I've upset you.

'Oh don't I?' Jason turned back round to look at Matt. 'I don't even know why we're friends Matt. We have literally nothing in common, and to be quite honest you annoy the fuck out of me sometimes. Most of the time actually.' Jason wanted Matt to hurt like Matt had hurt him. He couldn't tell what Matt was thinking. 

'You're the one that kissed me.' Matt spoke quietly making sure no one else heard.

'Yeah because I felt sorry for you.' Jason told him. 'And it was the stupidest thing I've ever done. If I could take it back I would. Let's just get on with our last day here and then when we get back to campus we can go our separate ways.'

'Fine by me.'

'Fine.' Jason spat and turned back around. Matt felt tears stinging his eyes. That's not what he wanted, not at all. He was about to speak again, to tell Jason he was sorry for being an ass and that he wanted things to be ok, more than anything else in the world but there was suddenly a slim, messy haired man approaching them. 

'Hi there. I'm so sorry to just come over like this but I saw you across the beach and, I'm sorry to be so forward but I thought you were gorgeous so I just had to come over here.' He spoke to Jason. Matt wanted to tell this guy to fuck off but Jason spoke.

'Hi, well that's very nice of you.' Jason smiled at the stranger. 'I'm Jason.' 

'Danny.' The man held his hand out to shake Jason's. 'I don't supposed you'd like to go grab a drink?'

'Bit early isn't it?' Matt scoffed. Jason looked at him over his shoulder. He was going to say no to Danny's offer but Matt had made him have a change of heart. 

'Sure, a drink would be great.' Jason turned his attention back to Danny and heard Matt scoff. Jason stood up and brushed the sand off of him before grabbing his bag. 'Tell Kurtis I'll see him later.' He told Matt without looking at him.

'I'm not your fucking secretary.' Matt replied but Jason wasn't listening, he'd already started following Danny away. Matt groaned and laid back in the sand. This was his own fault. If he was just honest with Jason about how he felt then maybe that could be the two of them strolling down the beach together. Matt was an idiot. And now he'd probably lost his chance.

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'What was that guys deal?' Danny asked Jason now they were sat back up by the pool with a drink. Jason sighed, shaking his head.

'I wish I knew. He's supposed to be my best friend, or so he says.' 

'He sounded a little...jealous to me.' Danny sipped his drink with a small smile. He had a really nice smile Jason thought, just not as nice as Matt's. 

'I don't think so.' Jason laughed. 'He's an idiot, I don't want to talk about him.'

'Ok.' Danny smiled. 'Where are you from?'

'Atlanta originally but I'm at college in New York. How about you?' 

'I'm from California, Azusa, but I'm at college in Tampa, not too far from here actually.' 

Jason wanted to like Danny. He wanted to like Danny because Danny wasn't Matt. He needed a distraction from Matt, he really didn't care what it was at this point. So for the second time in as many days, Jason put on his confident hat and leaned in close to Danny and kissed him. It was nothing like kissing Matt. That was probably a good thing. It didn't feel like a good thing though.