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maddyjones2 · 7 months ago

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On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

#good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #neil gaiman allegations

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mikanotes · 7 days ago

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— DON'T STRAY TOO FAR

banda x gn!reader - 1.2k words

genre: established relationship, suggestive

warnings: mentions of death, killing, manipulation, aib stuff, old kinda edited! some kissing leaning towards suggestive!!!

synopsis: Banda Sunato misses his lover. Why does he miss his lover?

author’s note: season 3 he's the main antag trust . i miss him a lot

Banda was intrigued when he noticed you began ignoring him. It didn’t take a genius to understand it had to do with the game you were both participating in, especially considering it was a Hearts one.

But his curiosity and amusement turned into annoyance after six hours. Turns out Banda Sunato is not half as patient as he himself believed.

You walk right past him at least fifteen times. He tries telling you what the symbol on your collar is during each of the six rounds. He debates on distracting himself with something, like following that suspicious guy around and gaining his trust a bit more, and he does.

He does for three rounds more before he feels angry because seeing you walk around so nonchalantly without doing so much as looking at him makes him lose track of his thoughts.

Especially when he sees someone else touch your neck as they look at the symbol on your collar. He’s certain that’s the last straw, for him.

So he lasts nine hours without your attention.

“Hey.” he says quietly, coming up right behind you. You jolt a little and turn to look at him. There’s a mere second where your expression looks somewhere between startled and content and he’s sure you’re finally done giving him the silent treatment. But that look barely lasts long enough for him to feel any actual hope. Soon enough, you’re back to this neutral, stone facade of yours as you turn your back to him and walk away.

Nope. Not this time.

He grabs your wrist and pulls your back against his chest, swiftly wrapping an arm around you the moment you’re close enough. You don’t fight him back. “You’re not being very nice.” he whispers, tilting his head just over your shoulder. You turn away, as if trying to ignore him still.

“… I really don’t wanna talk to you.”

“You’re the one who told me communication was important in relationships.” he chuckles softly, letting you go but grabbing your hand instead. You step away and give him a glare, to which he responds with an innocent smile. “Am I wrong?”

He knows he’s right.

“Let’s communicate when we’re actually sure we’ll both be alive,” you respond with an annoyed tilt to your voice, “I told you Hearts games are a no, with us two.”

Ah, yes. He thinks he might be falling in love all over again. You may be doing this out of the goodness of your heart, out of pure fear of losing him— But if you are, it’s probably fifteen percent of the reason why. The eighty-five remaining ones are just the fact that you would choose your own life over his any day. But you’re nice enough to not want to get to that point. Just lovely. “My heartless lover, attempting,” he hums, stepping closer again— Just close enough not to invade your space again. “Do you really think we can’t both win this? Come on.”

You look away, irritated. He rubs your hand with his thumb slowly, tracing words into your palm. Your name. A plea to stop acting like this before he loses his goddamn mind. He isn’t sure what it is about you ignoring him that makes him feel so far away from his usual ‘sanity’, but he really dislikes it. He’s fine without you. Perhaps the idea of not having your attention on him is simply�� Not right. It should always be on him, it has always been on him.

“Sunato.” you sigh. First name, he thinks, getting somewhere. He takes that as his cue and steps closer again. He says your name the same way you said his and gives you this soft, innocent expression of his. You look at him and he can see it in your eyes you’re trying not to break.

He moves just a bit closer. “I miss you.” he whispers. He tries to hold your waist but you move away right before he can, which leaves him stunned for a second.

His expression drops. “…You know me.” he says flatly, though his tone is as quiet as usual. “You know I don’t care that you’d kill me to survive.”

You look at him with that stern expression of yours and his gaze drifts towards your lips briefly. You’re gonna say something smart and clearly pissed off and then leave him again. You’re definitely gonna do that.

No. No you’re not. At least not that last part.

He half-listens to you as you begin to tell him to stop being so annoying for at least a day so you can focus on the game all whilst checking both sides of the hallway you’re in. Then he tightens his hold on your hand and tugs you towards a secluded area with him. You almost look hopeful.

“I’m going to kiss you. Okay?”

He gives you a long second and all you do is half-heartedly glare at him, so he grabs your face and pulls it towards his own. Fuck, finally. The feeling of your lips against his makes him sigh softly, a small smile forming on his features as he pulls you closer. He doesn’t think he could’ve survived longer without this. He remembers very clearly when he got addicted to you and every single thing about you. It makes him ten times weaker than he was when alone, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

You pull away after a while and gasp for air, grabbing his shirt at the same time. He laughs silently, eyeing your face. “Did you really think you could ignore me for that long?” he says, slowly moving the two of you until your back hit the wall. He leans closer to your face again but gives you time to catch your breath. “Did you?”

“Again,” you pant, pulling him in. He grunts but accepts the kiss, deepens it, even, and presses you closer into the wall. It feels so good having you in his hands, against his lips, pressed up to him. He breathes you in like you’re the oxygen he needs before pulling away, but only long enough to angle his face the other way to kiss you better. You make a soft sound that only sends his mind spinning and blood rushing to all the right places. Whenever he moves, you follow— Your desperation makes him grin. He almost feels like he needs you, too. Almost.

“You needed me badly,” he whispers when he finally manages to detach the two of you, and feels the heat of your gaze all over him, “So don’t let go of me. I’m counting on you to be the one to need me, live with me, and be the death of me.”

“I don’t wanna be the death of you…Mn…”

Another kiss, for good measure, then he’s leaning his forehead against yours. There’s something warm about the feeling of being close to you. He ‘loves’ you. He’s obsessed, if he’s to use the right terms– A long-term kind of obsession, one that runs deep into his veins. It’s as close to love as he can get. He smiles at you and chuckles softly, before looking over your shoulder. “Heart.”

“Heart.”

“It is time to make your guess. Please enter a prison cell. One person per cell, please.”

Banda pulls away and looks at you. “If you kill me, I won’t be upset.”

“I’d be. You better not be lying.” you say, gripping tighter at his shirt, just over his heart, before shoving it away slightly. You start walking off and he stares at the heart symbol on your collar. “... See you.”

“See you.” he says, like a statement. He will see you.

#banda x reader #banda sunato x reader #alice in borderland x reader #aib x reader #x reader

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midnightsnyx · 11 months ago

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girl at home | mat barzal | part 9

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of pregnancy, not edited word count: 2.1k authors note: i am back with a little less brain!! (literally) it took me a bit to start writing again cause I had some slowness on my right side so I wasn't quite up to writing. BUT i hope you guys like p9 and thank you so much for the continuous love on this story <3 the first bit is marlee's POV and after the * it's back to readers pov. hope u all like & pls lmk what you think <3

masterlist masterpost ask box

MARLEE

Marlee Jones loved her job. It was something she took pride in; helping bring new lives into the world and being there for all the mamas. Of course there were always the hard days, the days that made her hug Stella a little tighter when she got home from a shift. Her job had its ups and downs, but at the end of the day, she wouldn’t want to do anything else.

So, her panic is warranted when she comes across a certain patient file. She wasn’t looking for it, but when her eyes caught the name and there weren’t any other people nearby, she couldn’t help herself. It’s against HIPAA, and if anybody found out, she would be fired without question but she slipped the file in between a couple others and walked to a random supply closet. She closed and locked the door behind her before pulling the file out and opening it. Her eyes quickly scanned the pages, the words Hysterical Pregnancy making her heart race. She had to double check the name on the file twice, before believing it.

She knew that someone would notice the missing file, so she quickly found a printer and copied the pages, tucking them in her tote bag and putting the file exactly where it was.

Nobody would know.

Your first instinct is to calm Marlee down. Her panicking is making you panic and at least one of you needs to keep a straight head. You’re trying to let her words sink in without letting your mind go down a rabbit hole. You need to see all the facts before letting yourself do that.

“Marlee,” you reach out to grab her shaking hands. “What happened?”

She looks up at you and takes a deep breath. “I can’t- I can’t tell you the details but she’s not pregnant. She lied, and it’s already caused so much damage between you, and Mat and Liana… and Nora.” She pulls her hands away from yours and buries her face in them.

You decide not to remind her that Mat already fucked things up before Calista dropped the baby bomb on him because she knows that. Focus on one disaster at a time.

Calista lied about being pregnant. Mat doesn’t know this, and even if you try to tell him, you have no idea how he’ll react. Really, it’s none of your business and you can very well go on with your life because Mat has let you know loud and clear what his feelings are. He wants Calista in his life despite you not wanting her in Nora’s life. He technically has no rights, no say in what happens but when he first found out about her and asked to be in her life, you’d so desperately wanted to let him.

“How long can she pull off this lie until he finds out the truth?” you ask quietly and she lifts her head from her hands.

“Depends,” she mumbles.

“On what?”

“How deep she has him pulled into her fantasy.”

. . .

You let Nora spend a little more time with Stella, mainly wanting her to burn as much energy from the sugar high she’s on from the ice-cream. She’s sleepy when you buckle her in her carseat and you’re pretty sure she’s asleep but she mumbles something and you look to see her looking at you with droopy eyes.

“What was that?” you ask softly.

She looks down, avoiding eye contact with you which is worrisome.

“Do you think Mat would want to see me?” she whispers. “Without her?”

She obviously doesn’t need to clarify who she's referring to and it breaks your heart that a six-year-old has to worry about things like this.

“I can ask,” you tell her, unsure why she wants to see him suddenly. “You don’t have to go see Mat if you don’t want to, baby.”

By now, you’re pulling into your driveway so you can turn the jeep off and turn to give her your full attention. She still won’t look at you so you reach out and tap on her leg until she looks up.

“I want to,” she says but doesn’t elaborate so you don’t push.

“Okay, I’ll call him tomorrow.”

She just nods and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt so you get out and help her. She doesn’t complain when you carry her inside, helping her change into pajamas and brush her teeth. When she asks if she can watch a movie before bed, you don’t have the heart to deny her, even though it’s close to her bedtime so you set her up on the couch and put her favorite movie on. She’ll be out like a light in less than twenty minutes so while you’re waiting, you grab your phone and pull up Mat’s contact. Your finger hovers over the call option but you’re not sure you want to talk to him over the phone so you go into your text messages instead. The last messages between the two of you were when you last met up and even then they were short and to the point which makes this text easily simple.

To Mat: Nora wants to see you.

You lay your phone on the counter and get a glass of water while waiting for his response. You’re unnecessarily nervous, mainly because you are expecting him to start an argument the moment you tell him that Nora doesn’t want Calista to be there. You don’t even feel comfortable letting Mat see her because of what he said, but you can’t turn her request down. Not when she was so adamant about not wanting to see him, and out of the blue deciding that she does.

When you check on Nora while waiting for a response, she’s asleep so you pick her up and carry her to bed. You spend a minute just watching her after you’ve tucked her in. You’re desperate to see what’s going on in that little head of hers.

Just as you walk back to the kitchen, your phone buzzes and you freeze. Maybe messaging Mat tonight was a bad idea, and you should’ve just waited until tomorrow. It’s too late now though so you walk over and look to see Mat’s name and an unread message.

From Mat: ok

From Mat: when?

It bothers you, how nonchalant he’s acting after everything that’s happened. This is about Nora though, so you take a breath and try to decide on a date.

To Mat: Sunday?

From Mat: ok

You want to scream at him and take back the offer but remind yourself again that Nora explicitly asked to see him and it’s her decision to make.

So, you set up a place and time and tell him that she doesn’t want to see Calista. You expect him to argue, but he responds with another simple ok, and that’s that.

. . .

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Marlee asks, crossing her arms and glaring at Mat who’s sitting on a bench at the park you agreed to meet at. The two of you are standing outside her jeep, stalling a little before going over there.

Nora asked if Stella could come to the park too and Marlee was pulling out of her driveway before you could finish asking. You’re a little worried that she’s going to yell at Mat, but you figure with the kids there, she will contain herself unless he says something out of line.

“Nora asked to see him,” you remind her but she just grumbles something under her breath.

You’re ready to get this over with so you open the door and let Nora and Stella climb out of the jeep. Normally, they would race to the playground but Nora is hesitating, glancing over to where Mat is. He hasn’t noticed that you’re here yet which is good, because you are about five seconds away from just putting the kids back in and driving away.

Nora sighs quietly before walking over to Mat. You and Marlee hang back a little but Stella grabs her hand and sticks close to her.

When Mat sees her, his face lights up and for a second, you want to forgive him so everything can go back to how it was before. You can’t though, not when what he said is still so fresh and not when you know about Calista’s lies.

“Hey peanut,” he says softly, staying seated while Nora stands in front of him, looking down and scuffing her shoe on the gravel. He looks at you when she doesn’t say anything but you just shrug even though you’re confused. You’re about to ask Nora if she wants to just go to the playground when she breaks her silence.

“Are you not my daddy?” she asks quietly and it takes you off guard. You had this conversation with her, assuring her that Calista was lying but she must want to hear it from Mat.

“What?” he asks, looking at you before turning his attention back to her.

“Calista told me that you’re not my daddy,” she says more firmly, finally looking up at him. Her arms are crossed and she’s glaring at him. You’d be impressed if you weren’t so worried about what Mat may say.

His mouth opens and closes a couple times and he looks like a fish out of water. He looks at you again, as if he’s expecting you to step in but you just raise an eyebrow at him as if to say I told you so.

“I think she was confused-” he begins to say which is absolutely the wrong thing to say because it sets Nora off.

She stomps her foot and her glare hardens. “No! She said that mommy lied and that you’re not really my daddy. She told me that I don’t have a daddy.”

Before he can say anything, she’s storming off toward the playground, Stella chasing after her.

“Do I need to say I told you so?” you ask sharply, now that the kids are out of hearing range.

“You just did,” he mumbles and Marlee, who has been quiet up until now, steps towards Mat.

“You’re a piece of work,” she snaps and Mat looks at her confused.

“Excuse me?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she says, and you’re more than happy to let her say what’s on her mind.

“You’re letting your girlfriend tell your daughter that you’re not her father, and instead of comforting Nora, you’re trying to defend your girlfriend!”

For a moment, you’re scared Marlee is going to get angry enough that she’ll tell him the truth about Calista, but she takes a deep breath and turns away to go to where the girls are playing. You watch her walk over until she reaches them before turning back to Mat.

He’s staring at the ground and you don’t know why you’re still standing here but you guess you’re just waiting for Mat to say something.

“I fucked up,” he eventually mumbles and you scoff.

“When did you come to that brilliant conclusion?”

There’s the tiniest part of you that wants to bring up Calista, just to see if he’ll tell you anything but you’re not sure you’re in the mood to hear about her. Not when you know the truth.

“Liana is mad at me,” he tells you, which is news, because you thought she was just angry at you.

“I can’t imagine why.”

You look back at Nora, smiling when you see her laughing. She looks more like herself, rather than the gloomy kid she’s been the past couple days since she asked to see Mat. Like she got what was bothering her off her tiny shoulders.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mat doing the same but his smile isn’t as real. If you weren’t still angry at him, you’d feel bad but you can’t let go of what he said and the fact that he tried again to defend Calista.

“She’s a good kid,” he says softly and you hum in agreement.

“Did you know?” he asks, “that she was going to say that?”

“No,” you tell him. It’s not a lie - she didn’t tell you why she wanted to see Mat, and you didn’t want to push.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you shake your head and look directly at him.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix it this time. Marlee was right, instead of apologizing to Nora, who deserves to hear that more than me, you won’t stop making excuses for Calista,” you tell him. “I don’t know what you’re expecting from Nora and I, but sorry isn’t the answer.”

He frowns, but nods, seemingly accepting your response. You leave it at that and walk over to where Nora, Stella, and Marlee are, grinning when your daughter reaches for you. She hugs you when you pick her up and when you look back at the bench Mat was sitting at, he’s already gone.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @teapartydreams @alilstressyandlotdepressy @keiva1000 @hischiershoe @bellstwd @alwaysclassyeagle @brrbrina @nonsensical-nonsence

@love-like-woaah @cycy9 @swift-sos

if you want to be added or taken off the tag list please let me know! & if you asked to be tagged and I didn't it's cause your @ didn't come up when i searched

#allies writing #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfiction

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 1 year ago

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pt XI good omens season 1 finale I'M SORRY THIS IS LATE, I WAS READING FANFIC.

How is this a title I'm now forced to write. Yes, I know it's been a week since I finished episode 6 with you maggots. And today is the day we start season 2. However, I, the Official Good Omens Mascot, procrastinated writing part XI, because I was reading too much good omens fanfiction. Yesterday I do believe I was reading till 3 in the morning. Thanks guys.

Season 1 finale, or whatever I can figure out with my records of the watch along chat, at least. WAHOO.

[EDIT: I'm back at the intro after finishing this post, and I realised this is a very long summary, because most of it is me yelling at you guys. As I typed it I started reliving my rage of last week. Read on if you dare, yes the post is long, and yes the second half is in all caps. THIS TOOK EMOTION. YOU GUYS BETTER REBLOG IT INSTEAD OF LIKING IT SILENTLY WHILE LAUGHING AT MY PAIN. I WANT MY RAGE EVERYWHERE ON TUMBLR.]

Someone puts a message about how Crowley can no longer sense Aziraphale's presence, and again for some reason covers it with black. My reaction is of course horrified, and then everyone tells me to STOP CLICKING THE SPOILERS, ASMI.

So that's what that was. I realise this out loud, and everyone is ready to cry with exasperation. I explain to them very reasonably that while I don't read every message on the watch-along chat, every time there is a black message I assume it's important and I click on all of them to reveal the text.

Realising the spoiler function has backfired, as most things do with me, the chat sighs and everyone goes for a break. Then someone puts another blacked out message about the bookshop, and I react to that, leading to another blacked out message which simply says STOP CLICKING THE BLACK.

Oops, I already forgot. THE SPOILERS ARE JUST TOO CLICKY. CLICK CLICK CLICK. I HAVE TO CLICK ALL OF THEM.

Someone says I forgive you, Asmi. I reply with Don't bother, which leads to tears and threats to stab me. The chat maggots give up and we start episode 6.

There is a random flashforward. I don't understand what is happening, but then again, I never do.

Back at the airfield. Crowley walks in, recognises their hubby instantly, and takes charge sexily. Then the Bentley bursts into flames.

Crowley is heartbroken. No one comforts them. When I point this out (read, YELL IT AT THE CHAT IN DEVASTATION) someone tells me that this is how it always is.

APPARENTLY DAVID WAS TOLD TO THINK ABOUT THE TARDIS EXPLODING IN THAT MOMENT. I HATE THAT I KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.

Crowley needs all the therapy. Someone says kinder fanfic authors give it to him. LIES, I point out, FIRST THEY GIVE HIM EVEN MORE REASON FOR THERAPY. THEN GIVE HIM THERAPY.

Everyone is yelling about a fanfic called demonology while Adam the Antichrist feels so weird at Aziraphale being inside someone that's not Crowley that he separates them in the First Bigeneration style. Doctor Who is inspired.

Aziraphale like the babygirl he is, tries to girlboss his way through the situation by making Crowley murder the kid.

Pepper FUCKING STABS WAR IN THE NAME OF FEMINISM WITH THE SWORD OF EDEN AND THEN OTHER TWO KIDS END THE OTHER HORSEPERSONS IN THE NAME OF HOMECOOKED MEALS AND ECOFRIENDLINESS AND WHAT THE FUCK THESE KIDS ARE TWELVE WHAT PERCY JACKSON LEVEL OF BADASSERY-

Crowley and Aziraphale give a half-assed attempt at a father-son (gn) talk with the Antichrist as the world is ending. It is a terrible contribution to saving the world. The Antichrist thankfully has inherent common sense, because he wasn't raised by them.

Aziraphale tries to overshare his and Crowley's meetcute and has to be shushed by an embarrassed Crowley who is trying to keep them alive.

Satan is supposed to arrive. I mistakenly assume Gabriel is actually Satan. Which pleases a lot of people.

Gabriel and Beezlebub talk and blame Crowley and Aziraphale (who contributed exactly JACK SHIT to averting the apocalypse).

I kind of ship Gabriel and Beezlebub after seeing them interact for 30 seconds, which for some fucking reason leads to a lot of reactions and yelling. I want them to be together. Which leads to more yelling. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY CANON?

Satan arrives. Antichrist disowns him. Through the power of Manifestation, Law of Attraction and Positive Thinking, Adam is now no longer the Antichrist, Satan leaves, none of this happened and the BENTLEY AND BOOKSHOP ARE SAVED.

NO ONE IS FUCKING HUGGING CROWLEY. I'M GOING TO STAB A BITCH.

There is the bus stop scene Crowley asks Aziraphale to move in with him and they hold hands I DON'T FUCKING KNOW BY NOW THE CHAT HAS DESCENDED INTO CHAOS I'VE LOST MY BRAINCELLS.

ICE CREAM DATE AND SUDDEN INVASION AND I'M WATCHING THE ACTING AND I'M LIKE HANG ON A SECOND SOMETHING IS OFF AND I ASK SUDDENLY IF THEY SWITCHED.

THAT'S RIGHT, I ASK IF THEY SWITCHED. I KNEW THERE WAS A SWITCH AND I THOUGHT IT WAS MIDWAY THROUGH SEASON 2. BUT THE SIGNS ARE TOO MANY HERE. EVERYONE IS NOW YELLING AND PEOPLE KEEP IGNORING ME.

ALL THE ACTING IS FLIPPED I'M NOT BLIND YOU FUCKERS. AZIRAPHALE'S FACE IS DOING CROWLEY'S COULDNT-CARE-LESS EXPRESSION AND HE'S QUESTIONING HEAVEN AND CROWLEY'S TALKING HAS LESS CONSONANTS THAN USUAL AND NO CROWLEY SASS MORE AZIRAPHALE SASS IT'S THE SAME BACKGROUND AS THE NOSE-SCRUNCH SCENE AND SURELY THAT WAS AZIRAPHALE RIGHT.

EVERYONE KEEPS TELLING ME TO WAIT AND SEE. I KEEP YELLING THAT THEY MUST HAVE SWITCHED.

SOMEONE SAYS I'M EITHER A MADMAN OR A GENIUS. I TELL THEM I'M BOTH BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT DID THEY FUCKING SWITCH.

I'M NOW QUESTIONING MYSELF BECAUSE EVERYONE ISN'T LYING BUT THEY'RE MAKING ME QUESTION MY REALITY SO THE CLASSIC GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSSING.

I'M YELLING ABOUT HOW ONLY AZIRAPHALE WOULD BE POLITE ABOUT JACKETS AND SURVIVE HOLY WATER. EVERYONE IS LAUGHING AT ME. I'M NOW 60% SURE I'M WRONG.

PEOPLE KEEP YELLING WAIT AND SEE AND TALKING ABOUT SADIE AND DOTTIE I HATE IT HERE.

CROWLEY IS IN HEAVEN THAT WAS HIS DISMISSIVE LOOK I'M NOW 90% SURE I'M RIGHT. I'M YELLING ABOUT IT.

ADAM LEAVES THE GARDEN IN A METAPHOR AND THEN AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY SWITCHED BACK. THEY SWITCHED BACK. I WAS FUCKING RIGHT. I AM LIVID. I AM YELLING.

IT'S VERY EMOTIONAL AND NIGHTINGALES AND THEY TOAST THE WORLD AND I'M VERY EMOTIONAL BUT I'M COPING BY THREATENING MURDER BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING RIGHT.

THE END.

SEE YOU GUYS TODAY AT SEASON 2 I GUESS GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

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wonwooslibrary · 1 year ago

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svt as boyfriends ♡ joshua edition

member: joshua x reader genre: established relationship, bullet points word count: 738 summary: joshua's boyfriend things ;) warnings: mentions of food and i think that's it! let me know if i missed anything! author's note: y'all i am almost two whole days late with this oh god it keeps getting worse. i am...very tired haha i've been working a lot to build up some money while i'm not in school so yeah. i lowkey forgot about joshua/taehyung day until i opened twitter and saw people talking abt shua and i was like WAIT THAT IS TODAY anyway moral of the story i'm tired and need a break but here is the joshua fic we've all been waiting for! ily all and enjoy <3

He lowkey gives the vibes of like. The foreign exchange student bf with a relationship with a deadline

He’s the silly bf!!!

He’s also one of the members I see the least as a boyfriend so this is going to be interesting to write…

Quality Time

Mans is a fan of everything fr !!! He absolutely loves spending time with you and your shared group of friends

Loves doing silly little activities with you like making bracelets and painting

He might just be the artsy bf we all want

Joshua loves to go to different places with you like thrift stores, arcades, cafes, literally anything as long as he is with you <3

Loves the feeling of mixing his friend groups - the day you meet his friends aka his brothers he will be imploding with love for everyone

Is the “i get bored easily” bf so y’all gotta be doing like ten different things at once

Will totally ask you to dance or just close your eyes and be with him when a slow song comes on at a party / get together / playing music at home

Words of Affirmation

You totally call him Joshy or Shua and he loves every minute of it bc he thinks it’s cute

“Darling, would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow morning?” SCREECHING

Believes the relationship revolves around pet names (ie. baby, sweetie, darling) he's adorable

Is always proud of you and encouraging!!!

Likes to leave little notes for you around the house. Maybe by your favorite drink in the fridge that reads, “I got these for you. stay hydrated, love”

At the beginning of the relationship he was so formal with you, that it took him saying “I love you” for the first time to relax for five seconds LOL

Physical Touch

Joshua loves handholding ‼️

This man always wants to have some sort of contact with you, whether that be holding hands, linking fingers or rubbing your back

Loves having you sit on his lap or lay your legs across his

His go-to move when you are in public is linking your pinkies together (how cute :3)

Leans on you when he laughs because he cannot sit still

I feel like Joshua would like. move his fingers on your leg in the way of playing piano keys but with guitar if that makes sense? Like where the frets are? Idk

Is also the type to be scared of touching you in front of others until you explicitly tell him that it's okay

Acts of Service

Loves doing the chores for you

“Hey, baby, I'm gonna fill my water bottle. Do you need me to fill yours?”

Or even a, “hey i borrowed your car, but i filled the tank before bringing it back” we love a man who can afford to fill a vehicle’s tank at this point in time

Likes to bring you lunch once or twice a week --- he’ll make it himself and pack it in a cute little bag and everything

Helps you in little ways like folding the laundry or helping you pick out outfits on those days that you struggle to do anything

Is always there for you when literally anything happens. You need someone to help fix your car? He’s on the phone finding a shop. You can’t reach a high shelf or your back hurts too much to bend down to get something from a low cupboard? He’s right there ready to help

Gift Giving

I touched on this a tiny bit earlier but !! handmade jewelry omg he would make matching bracelets for y’all or even a necklace or earrings for you if bracelets interfere with your job

Always buys little trinkets that remind him of you or your relationship

“Hey I found this little glass rose decoration and it reminded me of the time i got you flowers when i asked you out the first time”

HE WILL ALWAYS HAVE THE CUTE SHY SMILE WHEN HE GIVES YOU SOMETHING TOO as if you’ll ever tell him that you dislike something he got for you

He would also love if you gave him gifts too like, “hey joshy I got this little container that can help you keep your beads organized” and he’s melt into a puddle of goo onto your living room floor

Also gets something for you (usually your favorite snack or drink) when you’re especially sad or stressed out - like a super gift instead of his regular daily gifts or something

Idk just know he’s really sweet and enjoys crafting

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 2 years ago

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Oh my goodness!! I am in love with “you hurt me pretty good too” I would love to read more about them if that’s possible? I mean anything about them I would love...could be their back story (like how they became fwb), the time between part one and two (like telling the cameron family and going to doctors appointments and when reader gives birth), a part three of the story, headcanons of a normal day at reader and rafe’s house, anything

you hurt me pretty good too pt 0.

pairing(s): rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: implied sex, pet names, alcohol consumption

summary: the story of how you and rafe meet.

authors note: i’m so happy to hear you enjoyed it!! i’ll make another part to this as well to explain the rest of the story, but for now, here is this!

part zero | part one | part two

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“kie, i’ll be fine. ‘m just gonna go grab another drink,” you drunkenly assured your friend. “i’ll be right back.”

“hurry,” she replied. “come right back.”

you jokingly saluted. “yes ma’am.”

you pushed the glass door open and headed inside the spacious house, pushing past the crowd of drunk teens towards the kitchen where the drinks were held.

you looked to the bowl of red liquid with an empty bottle of vodka beside it. upon noticing the small pockets of whatever unknown substance floating around in it, you opted for something closed and untampered with.

you opened up the fridge and saw the bunches of cases filled with beer. opting for a bottle instead of a can, you picked one out and shut the fridge. as you turned to the side to begin your way back to your friends, someone unknowingly collided with you and whatever cool liquid was in their cup began to pour on and down your shirt.

“shit,” you heard the voice say. “sorry, i wasn’t paying attention.”

you jaw was practically on the floor, arms frozen by your midsection and body beginning to erupt in goosebumps. it was like you’d just jumped into an ice bath.

you were already pissed off that someone had ruined your red top, but that apology was also absolute shit. they couldn’t be more insincere.

you looked up to see who it was, annoyed to find that it was none other than rafe cameron. the shitty apology cashed out now.

he grabbed your hand, the one not holding your beer. “c’mon.” he began to lead you through the watchful eyes of the party and towards what you assumed was a bathroom.

he shut and locked the door once inside and began to bunch up some paper towel. not wanting to stand or sit on a toilet that has been puked on by teens all night, you hopped up on the bathroom counter and sat by the sink.

he ran warm water onto the paper towel and turned to you, beginning to wipe by your collarbones. “so that’s how its gonna go? not gonna ask or anything? just start rubbing a soggy paper towel on me?” you questioned, head tilted down to watch his hand move.

“do you want to be sticky or not?” he snapped with a sassy attitude.

“you were the one that spilled your beer on me,” you replied just as sassy.

he stopped for a second and took a deep breath. “i apologized. did i not?”

you laughed under your breath. “it was a shit apology.”

“yeah? well, at least i apologized,” he replied.

you rolled our eyes and shook your head. you weren’t going to win with him. you knew you weren’t. so you decided to just sit and wait until he finished.

he threw away the old paper towel and grabbed a new one, dipping it under the water again then wiping over the tops of your breasts.

you couldn’t help but look over his concentrated face. he’d truly changed since you last saw him.

he’d traded the side part for a middle part, the polos for flannels and quarter zip sweaters, and he no longer seemed like he was as much of an immature asshole.

still an asshole but much more immature.

“stop ogling at me,” he said.

there was that arrogance you knew so well. “you’re the one staring at my boobs,” you replied.

“so what?” he asked.

your brows furrowed. “so i can’t look at your face, but you can stare at my tits.”

“only reason i’m looking is cause i’m cleaning you off. wanna do it yourself?” he snapped back.

“i’d probably do a much better job,” you replied.

he stopped his movements and leaned back slightly to look in your eyes. “maybe i could work a little better if you’d shut up.”

“you talk big shit, cameron,” you mumbled under your breath.

he squinted at you and leaned in closer. “i didn’t quite catch that. what’d you say?” he knew damn well what you said.

“maybe if you’d just hurry the hell up and clean up your mess, we can both be on our merry little wa—“

before you could even finish your sentence, his lips were on yours.

#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#gracies asks and requests 💌#outerbanks rafe #rafe smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx

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shmaptainwrites · 6 months ago

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𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — The Bridgertons take some time to do things they enjoy among the media circus caused by Landon's statement.

WORD COUNT — 3.5K

WARNINGS — none

NOTE — Another Friday, another chapter! Thank again to flock for taking care of the beta read and editing :)

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑽𝑰: 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 𝑰𝑵 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑳

The click of the camera shutters had become incessant since Landon’s statement broke the UK news. Unfortunately, it had not faded out, like they had hoped, after one cycle, due to the fact that it seemed like anyone who had ever had any qualms with the Bridgertons were now offering their opinions on the situation and keeping it in the front of everyone’s minds.

Violet’s lawyers had managed to convince the authorities to do their interviews at the firm in exchange for full cooperation, which the firm was willing to give because Violet was innocent (at least her lawyer had said even an idiot could see that, and you had emphatically agreed with him).

Stepping out from what felt like her thousandth interview, you followed closely behind with manila folders and a briefcase, the cameras were quick to come out and follow the two of you towards the car Violet had acquired the service of until things died down.

She could hear her name called at her from all directions, and she tried to hold her head high on Pat’s advice, knowing that if she hunched away the media might take her simple body language as an admission of guilt.

She was about to step into the car when she heard your voice behind her, but not addressing her.

“Hey, watch it!”

She turned around and saw you standing between her and someone who was trying to get a little too close.

“You know, while I’m at it, why don’t you all listen up?” you said, the frustration on behalf of Violet evident in your tone. “Keep your bloody cameras away from the Bridgertons or else I’m sure we can find a way to press charges for harassment. And while you’re at it, stop calling her Violet, it’s Lady Bridgerton, show some respect.”

Violet bit back a smile and finally opened the car door, stepping inside and sliding over the seats so you could place your things down and join her, closing the door, muffling the sounds of the press outside.

“You know, nobody calls me Lady Bridgerton,” she said while looking over at you.

“I know, but maybe they should,” you shrugged. “Maybe it will get them to remember all of the wonderful things your family has done with that title and that none of this is actually tied to you. Landon is just trying his last shot at bringing someone down with him.”

“At least the police said this should be cleared up and sorted soon, but I know the cameras are going to linger,” Violet sighed. “Daphne was telling me she saw someone following her while she was taking the children to the park with Simon the other day. She almost called the police; I had to arrange to get her a security detail.”

“Really?” you looked astonished and Violet nodded.

“They wanted information about me,” she added. “And were willing to take away my daughter’s, my son-in-law’s, and my grandchildren’s privacy to do so.”

You sighed and pressed your lips together.

“And Eloise has people following her around campus, Benedict has had his home vandalized, thank God Colin and Penelope left on another work assignment. I can’t imagine what they might have run into.”

You reached out your hand to take Violet’s and offer some comfort.

“I haven’t let Hyacinth or Gregory leave the house,” she looked over at you. “They’re going insane, but I can’t…” her voice trailed off. “They’re still so young, I can't have this happening to them as well.”

“I’m sure they understand,” you assured her. “This is no small thing. At this point, we’re talking about safety. You don’t even leave the house without security by your side anymore, that’s a clear difference from your circumstances before.”

“Yes, which is why I think we all need a break,” Violet sighed. “Benedict is coming to pick up Gregory and Hyacinth this afternoon and they’ll go to the country estate for a week or so, and Agatha and I have dinner planned at the house tonight.”

“That should be good,” you nodded. “Everyone gets a little change of pace, Benedict can be the one to make sure Hyacinth and Gregory don’t kill each other,” you teased, and Violet chuckled.

“When you put it that way, I might lose three children by the end of the week.”

You scoffed at her words and looked outside the window for a moment, your hands still interlocked.

“I know it’s hard, but we should focus on the positives. We still have the gala we need to think about. I know we were hoping for the fall, but with everything that is happening, I was wondering if it makes sense to do something over the holidays? It should add more time for us too, which frankly, we could use.”

“I was thinking that as well,” Violet agreed. “We haven’t sent out invitations so it wouldn’t be hard to shift dates as long as the venue is available. We’d just have to do some coordinating with all the logistical things, but I think that’s better than rushing it.”

“I’ll make sure the venue is available, you take a break and prepare for your dinner tonight. I hear Agatha is expecting you to cook.”

“She usually does, it’s a little deal we have,” Violet explained. “And she likes my cooking, so, I won’t turn down an opportunity to be complimented.”

“What’s your specialty?” you asked.

“Yorkshire pudding, but that’s not quite a meal on its own,” Violet chuckled. “I’ll figure something out to go with it.”

“I’m sure you will,” you squeezed her hand and let go, both of you feeling the immediate loss of warmth and comfort when the contact ceased.

When you arrived back at the house, Benedict had come to pick up Hyacinth and Gregory, neither of whom were ready to leave, much to his dismay.

“Mum, can you please get your children to bloody hurry up?” Benedict complained.

“Lovely way to greet your mother after she’s just come home from being interviewed by the police,” Violet teased and Benedict sighed with a chuckle, pulling his mother into a hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Hi Mum, how are you?” he changed his greeting, and Violet smiled.

“As good as I’ll be, given the circumstances. Let me go see what I can do about your siblings, and oh-have you two met yet?”

Violet looked between you and Benedict, and you nodded your head.

“Briefly, actually,” you said.

“Yes, you were at the gallery,” he noted and you confirmed with a nod.

“Pure coincidence. I realized who you were a few moments after we stopped talking,” you chuckled and gave him your name again.

“So, you’re working as the new financial manager?” Benedict asked, while Violet left you both to go find Hyacinth and Gregory.

“Yes, that would be me,” you nodded.

“And what was a financial district woman such as yourself doing in a small independent art gallery? Or working for my family, for that matter?”

“One, financial district women can have hobbies,” you started. “Two, I was looking for a change of pace and this is certainly that.”

“Getting bossed around by my mother? God give you strength.”

“Oh, come on,” you rolled your eyes and laughed. “It’s not that bad, we make a good team, I think.”

“If you’re saying that? Clearly you do,” Benedict teased. “No, but in all seriousness she’s a hard worker. Her nagging is out of love.”

“Benedict, did you just say I nag you?” Violet asked, stopping by the front door after overhearing the comment.

“No Mum, not at all,” he shook his head. “I said bagging, like when you pack us food to take places.”

Violet pressed her lips together. She seemed unconvinced and you laughed at Benedict’s terrible lie.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle Greg and Hyacinth for a week?” you asked him, and he shrugged his shoulders quite exaggeratedly.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“If they’re trying to kill each other, call me,” you told him. “I’ve learnt sibling crisis management 101 from those two.”

“Will do,” Benedict nodded and patted your back.

You heard your name called from the door and saw Hyacinth running outside.

“I thought I was going to miss you before we left,” she pulled you in for a hug which you accepted, one hand still occupied with full manila folders. “It’s going to be weird not seeing you every day.”

“Sure, but it’s only a week, and you have Benedict. You can make plans for the Beyoncé concert.”

“That is true,” Hyacinth nodded, still holding onto you.

“Hyacinth, goodness, you’re going to suffocate her,” Violet chuckled as she came outside with Gregory, seeing the tight grip her daughter had on you.

“I’m fine, I’m going to miss her hugs anyways,” you squeezed her back. “Okay, both of you should get your stuff in your brother’s car. He's been waiting patiently for you.”

The two youngest Bridgertons listened and threw their stuff in the trunk of Benedict’s car before saying their goodbyes and heading off with a final reminder from their mother not to kill each other.

You and Violet entered the house shortly thereafter, and she went on to prepare dinner while you did some work in the office.

After the day had ended, you were about halfway home when you realized you had forgotten your phone and had to turn back around to get it.

Security let you inside without a fuss, and you could hear chatter and laughter coming from the dining room, presumably from Violet’s dinner.

You tried to sneak in and out quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but Violet caught sight of you from afar and called out your name.

“What are you doing back here, is something wrong?” she asked.

“Just forgot my phone, I’ll be out of your hair in two minutes,” you assured her.

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” another voice chimed in, which you assumed was Agatha’s. “Violet wouldn't be able to cook for only two people, even if a gun was put to her head. It’s ten or nothing, there’s plenty of food to share, come eat with us.”

“I shouldn’t stay,” you shook your head.

“My dear, one does not turn down an invitation from Agatha,” Violet chuckled. “Just come sit with us.”

You pressed your lips together and began to walk towards the dining room, seeing the chair Violet had pulled out for you next to her and took a seat with them at the table.

“Christ, you were right. Violet, this is enough food for a small dinner party,” you said while looking at the spread in front of you.

“I, unfortunately, never unlearned how to portion for ten people,” she said while grabbing you a plate and some cutlery. “I will be sending you both home with leftovers.”

“And I will not be complaining,” Agatha smiled. “So,” she turned her attention to you. “Violet has been telling me how great of a help you’ve been the past few months.”

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” you shook your head. “Just doing my job.”

You knew as soon as you said it you didn’t believe it. Sure, a part of it was doing your job, but another part was always something a little extra. You had come to care very much for the family whose employ you were under and it meant a lot when you were able to help them through difficult situations.

“Have you and Violet known each other for a long time?”

You tried to divert the line of questioning from yourself.

“Since I was a teenager,” Violet answered. “Our families ran in the same circles, but we became more acquainted after my marriage, and even more so after Edmund’s passing.”

You could feel Agatha’s stare on you, and it made you a little nervous. It was almost as if she was very closely judging your character, but whether it was for your position with the family or something else, you were uncertain.

Violet offered you some wine, realizing you didn’t have a glass, and you accepted, watching her go back to the kitchen to fetch it for you, so you quickly filled the silence with another question for Agatha.

“What made you grow closer after Edmund’s passing?”

Agatha pressed her lips together and took a sip of her wine.

“My husband had also passed away when I was young,” she said and you nodded your head in understanding. “But that is not why I could relate to her.”

You paused, looking up from your food and making eye contact with Agatha whose gaze had seemingly softened.

“I had an arranged marriage,” she explained. “I did not love my husband. In fact, I loathed him, but due to my family, the only way out of that relationship was in death. My father passed shortly after he did and then, all of a sudden, I was free.”

You put your fork down, placing your hands in your lap, listening intently to her story.

“For years, I had been…close with Violet’s aunt, Lily, her father’s sister, and over time, that friendship turned into something…more than,” she said. “When she passed away, I felt like my world had been ripped in two and I couldn’t quite publicly grieve her loss, in part because I wasn’t yet ready to admit to the world that I loved her.”

You pressed your lips together, a surge of hurt in your chest at the story she shared.

“When Violet lost Edmund, I saw that same thing in her. She was still expecting and the world turned her grief into a spectacle.”

“I understand,” you nodded your head, it was implicit. Agatha was trying to protect Violet.

“I hope you do,” Agatha sipped her wine again. “Our stories often tend to draw on more parallels than we initially realize.”

Violet returned to the room with a glass of wine for you, and a bottle for the table, a bright smile on her face while she tucked her hair behind her ears and sat back down.

“Why the long faces, did something happen?” she asked, concerned.

“No, not at all,” Agatha shook her head. “We were just disappointed we can’t have your cooking every night, it really is quite exceptional.”

“Yes, I agree,” you said truthfully. “You were right when you said Yorkshire pudding is your specialty, I think this is the best one I’ve had in a long time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Violet smiled. “So, have you two spoken about art yet?”

“No, I don’t think we have,” you shook your head.

“A fellow appreciator of the finer things, I see,” Agatha smiled.

“Agatha has quite the collection at her home. I think you would love it, actually.”

“Really?” You looked at Agatha. “What era?”

“Mostly early 19th century, some late 18th,” she said. “Do you have much art in your home?”

“Not a lot, I can’t quite afford the things I enjoy,” you admitted. “But I frequent museums and galleries quite often which helps fill that void. I love being in this house in particular, there’s always a new piece in some corner that I haven’t seen before.”

“A lot of those are Benedict’s,” Violet said. “He refuses to pay for a storage space so he ends up giving them to me on loan until they sell.”

“I seem to recall some of the paintings around the house are yours,” Agatha noted.

“You didn’t tell me that,” you looked over at Violet. “Which ones?”

“Anything signed Ledger,” she admitted. “I did them all before I was married.”

You chuckled a little to yourself. There was one painting in Violet’s office, nothing too extravagant, just an assortment of plants in what looked like a wildflower bouquet resting on a table. If something was stumping you or your eyes needed a break from the many hours of staring at the computer, your default was to look at it. You had always meant to ask who the artist was; you just couldn’t seem to fathom that it was Violet.

“You didn’t think to mention it?” you chuckled, sipping your wine.

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” she shrugged innocently, and you laughed at the clearly coy comment.

Agatha watched the interaction between you both closely. There was a certain familiarity, an ease and comfort she hadn’t seen in Violet in a long time.

“So, I think we now know where Benedict gets his artistry from,” you said. “Does he know where he gets it from?”

“We’ve all made a point to make it very clear to him any talent he got was from me,” Violet teased, and you laughed again.

“Seriously though, once things settle again and you have more time on your hands, you should consider taking it up again,” you suggested. “It’s good to have a hobby.”

“I agree,” Agatha nodded. “Hobbies are a wonderful way to pass the time.”

“Agatha’s main hobby is hustling people in poker and pool,” Violet informed you.

“All the money goes to charity,” she assured.

“At the expense of the dignity of others,” Violet countered.

“She lost to me in both,” Agatha filled in the blanks and you snorted while lifting your wine glass to your lips and Violet’s ears became tinged with a soft pink colour. “And made the mistake of chalking it up to beginner's luck.”

“Oh, Violet,” you attempted to sound sympathetic, but it came off more like pity with the chuckle that was laced in your voice.

“No, I know I brought it on myself,” she nodded, picking up some vegetables with her fork. “I just don’t understand how I fell for it three times, and how you didn’t say anything,” she motioned to Agatha with her chin.

“You just seemed so determined, I didn’t want to burst your bubble.”

“Three times? Violet, that’s just…”

“Embarrassing? Demoralizing? Absolutely humiliating?” she filled in the blanks.

“No, I was going to say sweet,” you chuckled. “You didn’t give up, I mean, you never do. I admire that about you.”

“Oh,” Violet was visibly surprised by your response and you were too focused on her to notice Agatha’s knowing expression from across the table. “I-Well, thank you.”

“I would have gone with humiliating, too,” Agatha teased before eating another spoonful of food.

“Hush, you,” Violet frowned and sent her friend a playful piercing stare.

Dinner ended up being very enjoyable, but as soon as the dishes were cleared and you saw the time, you excused yourself from the group.

“Are you sure you can’t join us for another glass of wine?” Violet asked.

“I shouldn’t,” you shook your head. “My family’s coming to visit tomorrow, and I still have a few things to arrange around the apartment so I should get back to that before it’s too late.”

“Family? You didn’t mention your family was visiting. Do you need time off?” Violet asked.

“No, we’d run ourselves mad if we were together non-stop,” you shook your head. “If something comes up, I’ll ask.”

“Okay,” Violet smiled. “But before you go…” she slipped past Agatha and over to a pan that was by the stove, taking a container from one of the cupboards and placing what looked like a few slices of cake inside and grabbing some food she had packed away from dinner already. “For tonight. A cleaning pick-me-up,” she handed it to you.

“Thank you, Violet, really both of you for including me tonight,” you said. “I know I was the reason you got pulled away from your tea together in the first place, so I’m happy for the chance at redemption.”

“Consider yourself redeemed,” Agatha assured you. “I’m sure we will talk again soon.”

“I hope so,” you smiled. “Goodnight.”

Agatha and Violet returned your smile and wished you goodnight as you left the room, heading out the front door and going back to your car to head home.

“So,” Agatha began a moment after hearing the front door close. “She’s quite…”

She paused in hopes that Violet might fill in the blank, letting her in on what her feelings were towards you.

“Lovely?” Violet looked up at Agatha with a smile. “She really is.”

“You seem to have gotten closer over your time working together.”

“I think we have,” Violet agreed. “It’s odd. It’s almost as though I hired a financial manager and a friend, but it doesn’t feel forced.”

“It doesn't look forced,” Agatha agreed. “And she’s aware of your…long term financial plans?”

Violet nodded her head, serving Agatha a piece of cake.

“Yes, but we still have some time before that becomes a reality,” she said.

“And do you think your friendship will last past that?” she asked.

Violet paused for a moment, thinking about the question that was brought up before placing her hands flat on the counter in front of her, leaning on the support of her arms.

“I really do hope so.”

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling

#to love the stars #violet bridgerton #violet bridgerton x reader #violet bridgerton fanfiction #violet bridgerton fanfic #violet bridgerton fic #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fic #ruth gemmell #modern au #bridgerton modern au

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jaebeomsbitch · 2 years ago

Text

Puppy (R.R.)

PT. II

Summary: Meeting Roman Roy at a gala leads to other things or Roman Roy entrances you with those big hazel eyes.

Warnings: None

Authors Note: My palate cleanser! I was originally going to shorten this all into one story but my brain is so fried right now. Not edited as always

You’d met Roman at a company gala, you were the plus one of a random schmuck Roman didn’t know. His eyes kept flitting towards you as you walked around the room. He couldn’t pinpoint why, maybe it was because you were hot or maybe because something about your presence commanded power. He could see the way your shoulders are squared back, your mouth moving like you’re not taking any shit. He decides to walk up to you as whoever you were talking to walks away.

“What brings you to this fickle fest at the chuckle factory?” He says, leaning against the cocktail table.

“A little bit of business and a little bit of pleasure,” You say, taking a sip of your champagne.

“Well, you certainly picked the right party of that second one. We are drowning in it in this crowd of the rich, the insufferable, and the wannabe,” He says, hazel eyes unmoving from yours.

You hum, taking another sip of your own drink, the bubbles sliding down your throat. Roman’s eyes follow the way your throat bobs when you drink down the expensive champagne. You can’t help but smirk at the way he seems so focused on you. Roman Roy should be off schmoozing some schmuck for his Daddy’s business but he’s here giving you those signature ‘fuck me’ eyes knowing god damn well he couldn’t if he wanted to.

He smiles back at you with that signature Roy smile, showing off all his perfect straight teeth.

“Is this when you finally tell me your name or do I have to keep calling you Miss Business and Pleasure?” He says.

“You can keep calling me that. I enjoy a little game of mystery,” you say walking around him. You skirt through the crowd until he loses you in the crowd. You turn your business side on and start schmoozing some potential clients.

Roman spends the rest of the night hunting for you. He sees the occasional glance but then you turn a corner or dip behind someone. He notices you talking business to one client and he takes his chance.

He goes to the same person and starts to subtly undercut what you’re saying to the client. He wants to see how you react. Unluckily for him you’re incredibly quick witted and unfazed. You meet his every undercut with your own.

Once the client leaves you turn to Roman with an smug smile knowing they liked you more

“Nice try Romulus, you’ll catch ‘em later tiger” you wink, a smug smile adorning your lips.

You’re skirted away by Kendall who grabs you by the elbow. He whispers something in your ear, eyes looking over to Roman that fire of competition in Kendall’s eyes. Roman can feel that heat in his gut bubble like pure rage. They’ve never been into the same type, why was Kendall picking you? Kendall walks away, phone to his ear.

Before Roman can approach you again someone else is greeting you with a fresh glass of champagne. Roman tries to look away, his eyes avoiding you at all cost but like a magnet, eyes flit back towards you. The way your lips move, your hand brushing off the strangers, your hand tightening around the glass before placing it on the cocktail table. Your eyes find Roman’s jealous gaze.

You excuse yourself walking towards Roman, you can practically feel his anger masked with faux cockiness.

“Who pissed in your cereal? Nevermind you look like you’d enjoy that type of thing,” You say, grabbing a fresh glass of champagne.

Roman is caught off guard by your comment. He feels his heart skip a beat. You’ve managed to get him in this one. He has an annoyed grunt but also is trying not to smile from how good of a quip it was.

He has to try and get you back so he says, “at least I’d have a nice bowl of cereal, Miss Business and Pleasure.”

You can’t help but laugh at his absurdity, “ I didn’t take you as a cereal eater” You say. Roman chuckles at that. He’s only met one person who could bounce off his quips this well.

“What do you take me for?” He says with the slightest hint of a smirk on his face.

“A 120 pounds wet, skips every meal, hair clumps falling out type” you say studying his body for a second.

Roman is taken aback. No one has ever come at him like that. He tries to act unbothered but when he feels his heart skip a beat after just a second of your inspection, he gives a bit of a smile.

“Is that so?” He says with a slight chuckle and a small smile. How had you seen him and broken him apart to his core so quickly? Most people couldn’t tell when he’d pushed expensive meals around. They're all too consumed with their own bullshit to notice Roman faking eating his meals and yet here you are reading him like a children’s book. Like he was the easiest thing to decipher.

You hum in agreement, handing a waiter your empty glass.

“Seems like my night has come to a finish Mr. Roy. I’ll see you, when I see you” you flash him a smile before walking out of the gala.

#roman roy #succession #succession roman #succession hbo #succession spoilers #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #kieran culkin #roman roy fanfic #mention of kendall #hbo succession #roman roy x you

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fancyfeathers · 7 months ago

Note

Reading one of the latest posts regarding the kids, I wonder what would happen if Eloise somehow ended up falling in love with someone? Like maybe the time she for once is not grounded, she ends up meeting a young noble man from university at Durham or something like that and they just hit it off. Like how would William react, I mean- does he really expect her to be locked up for the rest of her life? 😭 i just want the girl finally experience some happiness for once 🥹

Father Like Daughter (Yandere William James Moriarty and his darling having a genius daughter)

I thank you for this because I have been thinking about this and I finally get to post about this

I can picture her being dragged along by her Uncle Louis, or whoever is watching her when she is grounded, to drop off a telegram or letter that came for William. While Louis is off in the classroom, talking to her father, she is waiting outside, flipping through a book she got as a gift from Andrei.

“Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and judging by that cover on the book I would say it is a first edition copy, a rare find to say the least.”

“You read Jane Austen?”

“Of course I do, why would I not. I would go as far to say that I admire the author because by choosing not to marry and writing novels instead, Austen challenged the notion that unmarried women could not support themselves, she is quite the feminist.”

A young man did indeed approach her, glancing at her book then at her. I imagine him as an Language or Literature major with an interest in history as well, so he really would not be in any of William’s classes. But they barely get past exchanging names before she has to leave, but as she glances back at him he is also looking back at her. But little did Eloise notice that while they were talking she didn’t even notice him slipping the book from her hands that is until someone comes knocking on the front door of the estate after dinner, and she goes to get it.

“You dropped this, I thought I would return it, I would have gotten here sooner but my roommate needed help with his essay.”

“Oh thank you, I did not even realize I had dropped it.”

“Well lucky for you I have a very good eye, have a good evening Miss Eloise.”

When she goes back to her room after getting ready for bed, she opens up the book to see a note written by him as well as his family’s estate address in London.

I meant what I said about having a good eye, if you need anything you can find me at the university or at this address.

Yours,

XXX XXX

His mind and Eloise’s are one in the same because who she would fall for is someone who sees the same as her, someone she can confine in and have them completely understand. I imagine his personality being much like Vincent Phantomhive’s from Black Butler, specifically when we see him when he was young and his school, but their relationship being like Enola and Tewkesbury from the Enola Holmes films where they work together perfectly but also like Francesca Bridgerton and John Stirling from Bridgerton where she can actually know who she is with him because she has that space to breathe for once.

They see each other when she is dragged along to the university and every time she sits on the same bench while she waits so he knows where to find her and they talk or just sit together in the silence. Then when they both are back in London, they write to each other with Andrei being the messenger between the two, and the letters are extremely long, both of them feeling like they can just spill everything to the other and open their heart completely.

The change in Eloise’s behavior would be noticeable, going from quiet with a constant grim expression to being quiet with a smile as if her thoughts please her for a change. William would ask her about her change in personality but she would never tell her father, but maybe she would tell her mother. So William is curious about this change, one of the reasons could be she had met someone but the question is who. So when Eloise is sitting out on the bench and William is talking to Louis, who brought her along, he goes out to retrieve his daughter for a change and he sees her talking to one of the students at the university.

“Eloise, Louis is waiting for you in the carriage.”

The two are clearly startled when they hear her father’s voice, but Eloise gets up to leave but not without giving the young man a small wave and smile. William then just looks down at the young man, his expression never changing from his calm cover.

“You have been courting my daughter, is that correct?”

“So what if I am? After all it is a mutual attraction so therefore this nothing wrong as we are both are of age for such things.”

“That may be true, but you are courting her without my permission-“

“I do not not need your permission, I only need her consent, but that is something I doubt you know of given what I have heard about your relationship with your wife, her mother. Any which way I do need to get to my next class, good afternoon, Professor Moriarty.”

Then just like that he gets up and walks off without another word. William looks into the young man and his family, he is the heir to the family and the title and honestly his family is without an evil deed and they raised their son to be the same. There is nothing wrong with the young man, besides his lack of filter between his mind and mouth. He is exactly like Eloise, but that is also a danger, especially to William’s plans.

Eloise would be isolated even more from the outside world even more than before, it is for her own sake is what William tells her. Even then the two still exchange letter through Andrei and this could still go on for months or even a year and nothing would change between them.

Then when William dies she finally has the freedom to go off and do what she wishes and the first thing she does is run right to his family’s home in London, right to him and I would honestly think he would have proposed to her soon after but the wedding itself would be years down the line because for now they are perfectly happy with just being in one another’s company.

Also this is their song

(A/N- I finished typing this up and I asked Kitty for her thoughts on his personality and she just goes “Vincent Phantomhive would have been a teenager sometime within the Victorian Era… just saying.” Guys I think Kitty ships Eloise with young Vincent Phantomhive… this is whyI can’t compare characters to other anime characters because of my girlfriend/cowriter lmao)

#william moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #yandere william james moriarty #yandere moriarty the patriot #yandere yuukoku no moriarty

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harruandlou · 2 months ago

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✨Writing Self-Evaluation 2024

thank youuuu @red-pandaaa for tagging me 🫶🏻

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 4 this year! (10 total!)

2. Word count posted for the year: 262,441

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction

4. Pairings: Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: i would know you from touch alone

Bookmarks: sunshine, baby! (literally 1 single bookmark more than iwkyfta or this would be a clean sweep)

Comments: i would know you from touch alone

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): I think sunshine, baby! I did a lot of research for that fic into swimming and law school (and the olympics) and it's the longest thing I've ever written on my own.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): I'm really proud of all of them, but probably your brightest star only because I wasn't in a good place writing and pushed myself through most of it. I think it could have been better if I hadn't been so strict on myself for posting time, etc.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: I got so many really wonderful comments this year and every single one makes me go mush inside. In particular anytime someone says I'm one of their favorite authors or my fic is one of their comfort fics I just want to cry lol.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: I started slipping into a rut in like May and didn't really claw out of it until October. During that time I wrote ybs and about 25k of a wip I've since put on the shelf. The whole time was such a struggle.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: Louis' roommate Mina in sunshine, baby! surprised me a lot this year. I added her in a scene because I wanted Louis to say something in particular, but fully expected her to show up once. But I really loved writing her and then she ended up bring the kick in the ass he needed more than once and i love her so much.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: this is from i would know you from touch alone. I added this scene in editing and it's one of those moments that it seems impossible now for the fic to have existed without it. I love it not necessarily because of how its written, but it like such a good reminder that editing a million times can be really important to shaping the fic 😂 (I need that reminder for the next time I edit something to death)

Hours passed, the night crawled towards dawn, but still Harry and Oli sat diagonally to each other. At some point Liam came in. He had Harry’s broken phone in his pocket and a sad look on his face. Oli eyed him warily, but Liam just clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder and sank into the chair next to him. Some time after that another Tomlinson came over and sat next to Oli. Harry didn’t know his name, but he’d been at the warehouse. Harry could so clearly picture him glaring at Harry over the barrel of his gun. Before long there were a handful of them who had migrated around Harry and finally he realized what it was. He was surrounded on all sides. He was protected.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: I got really good at outlining this year! And being a bit more strict on myself about making sure I have things properly planned before I start writing (can you tell I've had problems with this in the past lmao). I also picked back up something I'd put aside that I was really afraid to try to rework and had convinced myself wasn't worth the effort. So I think trusting myself and the process more in general.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I think maybe be a bit more risk taking lmao. I tend to play things safe or overthink everything, but I think some of the best stuff happens when you let yourself get a little silly.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): 2024 was the year of @red-pandaaa saving my ass every 5 minutes lmao. We started working together at the end of last year and they helped with everything - beta reading, cheerleading, listening to me bitching and moaning. Oh and the friendship was nice too 🤣

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: Oh for sure, always. A lot of Louis in sb! was based off a friend of mine (actually a lot of sb! I pulled real life experiences for). I'm always putting places I've been, food I've eaten, weird personality quirks I have or friends have in fics.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Always know the ending before you start. You don't always need to know how to get there, but at least know where you're going.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I'm really excited to get back to the fic I put on hold in the summer. I think I'll start working on that in January (once edits for you're all i ever dreamed of are finished!!!)

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@blueskiesrry @petitommo @wishingforloushair @28goldens @lunarheslwt @larry-hiatus

#writing eval

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lifegoeson-wecarryon · 2 months ago

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A rereading of Carry On, by an amnesiac: Log 1

(Or, I guess, ARROCOBAA. Chapter 1-2)

Carry On by @rainbowrowell saved my life— but I don’t remember Carry On, or even my life. So, now that I’m finally able to start picking up the pieces, I’m seeking the solace of an old friend. I am not sure if these logs will reach anyone else, but at the very least I hope it can reach myself.

x | x | Next Log

· · ──── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ──── · ·

Opening my copy, I’m not sure what edition this is. There is a quote that I know is important, but I don’t remember the context. “You were the sun... And I was crashing into you.” This page folds out to reveal a map. I recognize some of the location names, but I don’t know their significances. The goats in The Hills Beyond make me smile.

I close the map and flip the page, there’s some reviews but I see ink bleeding out from the other side. I flip.

“Carry On, Simon!

Rainbow”

I used to go by Simon. It is the name attached to this blog, but I don’t know how I got a book signed by the author. Although, it made me immediately smile to see it.

I don’t know why I keep hesitating to go past the Book One page. Some part of me is afraid of what I will find, but another yearns to discover what’s behind those gates that are shown in the artwork.

I need to stop stalling. I’m just gonna do it.

· · ──── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ──── · ·

Chapter 1: Simon.

I don’t know why reading the first page made my heart start aching. It’s all introduction stuff. I had to take a break after to stop and think.

The mention of the mage, that made me really upset. What did he do? My head keeps saying ‘he was like your father.’ That makes me think the mage treated Simon very, very badly.

Writing that out calmed my heart, so now I can get back to reading.

Chapter 2: Simon

There’s a line in chapter 2 that sticks out to me, ‘I’m the blade. The Mage’s sword.’ It makes it seem like Simon is being used by him. Could have just said the first line, and it would have made sense. My heart aches again, and I still don’t know why.

I understand Simon’s thoughts about the mage, and the familiar pain that oozes through his words. Talk of spending time, acting like you’re caring and loving, only to send you away each chance you get. I’m starting to understand my previous attachment to this book.

The Insidious Humdrum feels familiar too, but Simon and Penny are talking about him as if he’s the enemy. I don’t know why, but this feels… odd, though I can’t explain it. I can just tell there is more to the Humdrum, something I want to understand. And I feel that at some point I did understand, and that’s why reading this segment is odd to me.

Simon is making a list of the things he missed. Making lists is something I do too, it’s really helpful to me in the exact way he describes— helping ease into whatever the list is of so it doesn’t overwhelm you.

Sour cherry scones! That made me remember something, it’s been a while since I’ve had some. There was a time when I was so excited to see an international food aisle with Aero bars, and then running to the bakery to find some cherry scones. They didn’t always have sour ones, but I liked the regular too. I don’t know how, but I can taste it in my mouth right now. It’s a nice, nostalgic feeling.

It’s funny how ‘roast beef’ got replaced by Penelope on the list. There’s a part about how when he met her, he was surprised by her name due to her skin tone, and when she asks what she should be named he thinks of names that feel stereotypical. She informs him, ‘Someone like me can be named anything.’

I feel like this is good to highlight, Simon understands in the future his impression was wrong and knows he was being stupid. But that’s the thing— he was young. There’s a lot of stupid things you say when you’re young that you don’t realize were wrong until later, that’s what feels realistic. And I’m glad he had someone like Penny to help him learn that you shouldn’t assume anything about a person based on what they look like. Because she’s right- everyone is unique and can be named anything, and they can do what they want with their hair. People aren’t just what you see on tv, as the lens of media especially in regard to different kinds of people can be very inaccurate.

I’m raising my eyebrow a little at him talking about the football pitch only to lead up to talking about Baz. I get the feeling he’s gonna bring up Baz a lot, unnecessarily. I only vaguely know what happens with them, so it’s silly in an endearing way that this starts so early in the book.

How does the Watford dressmaking department know how much he’s grown to get him the perfect clothes to fit? Kinda weird!! (It’s probably just some magic thing.)

I was amused at him saying they could wear capes and was COMPLETELY caught off guard by him saying he looks like a tit. I am suddenly reminded that this book uses British slang. I’m sorry I didn’t make the connection yet, I am a silly little American!

Simon mentions the Mage again, and my amusement dissipates. It hurts how Simon phrases some things, because I can feel his pain personally. I can understand when he says he put the Mage on his list when he was younger, and has wanted to take it off many times. The pain of being ignored, trying to defend it by saying ‘but he still takes care of me, and when he’s there for me, it’s good.” But the way he speaks, Simon is still hurting. The Mage shouldn’t be there ‘when he does have time for me’. The Mage is someone who took him under his wing and is supposed to guide and care for him, someone who is the closest thing to anything he has. The Mage should make time for him. It’s one thing to be a provider— but Simon is right, the mage is not his dad. I understand why I latched onto Simon, because that’s essentially how I was feeling, wasn’t it?

I’m noticing that I can easily and happily read through the book until they bring up The Mage. When that happens, everything starts to hurt. But sometimes you have to hurt a little so you can heal a lot, so I’m pushing through.

I don’t really know who Micah is. Did the fandom just not really talk about him? I know through my rereading of my fanfics, there’s a lot of background characters because when I hyper fixated I want to bring attention to the little guys. But I don’t think I’ve written about him like that, is he more relevant later or did I just not care for him?

He says when he’s alone, magic is his burden. But going to Watford, it’s just the air they breathe. I feel like I can say the same about a few things, and that makes me feel seen even more than Simon’s character already does.

Oh, Ebb! Seeing her name makes my heart light again, is she a really good one? She must be with the way Simon is talking about her.

I feel like I had someone in my life like Ebb, and why do I get the feeling the more I think about it, that both didn’t make it when I reached the end of the book?

The next page is kinda whiplash? I get a chuckle out of ‘Fuck the wavering wood.’ and then BOOM. RELATIONSHIP DRAMA.

I feel like there’s way more to that story, but I understand the conclusions Simon makes on his own through his emotions and just by the sheer fact he can’t learn anything else about it. · · ──── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ──── · · This post is getting long, so I'm going to end this log here and continue in another. This is the most personal I have ever allowed myself to be, and I already feel lighter because of it. I doubt anyone will actually get this far, but if you have-- thank you for listening. I was struggling for a long time, broken long ago and feeling as if I would never find out how to put myself back together again. But something like that doesn't have to be forever. Wounds are able to heal no matter how deep they are-- I know mine are starting to, especially with my 'old friend' here beside me.

#simon snow series #carry on #rainbow rowell #ARROCOBAA logs

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sturniolobsessed · 1 year ago

Text

18 - M.STURNIOLO

Warnings : Kissing, use of pet names, swearing, exhibition if you really squint

Summary : Your mum was shouting at you for being immature so you decide to annoy her by introducing her to your “boyfriend” who is the complete opposite of her ideal partner choice for you

Authors note : This is completely based off an edit I saw on TT bc I actually fell in love!! I’ll tag the edit <3

Link : https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeMhWRLX/

Pink is y/n

Blue is Matt

Purple is your mum

________________________________________

Me and Matt are classmates and we talk occasionally but we don’t really know each other

This morning, I walked into school with an annoyed face and plonked down onto my chair

Matt, who sat on the desk behind me, could sense my annoyance and decided to tap me on the shoulder

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m just pissed off.”

“Wanna tell me why?”

“Idk, why would you care?”

“Cause I’m bored and you’re angry. May as well, hey?”

“Oi!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

I laugh and he smiles at me, that cheeky grin on his lips that everyone is oh so used to

“So? What’s up?”

“My mum was having a right go at me this morning. I got up and I don’t even know what I did but she started shouting at me about how I’m not grown up or mature! I am… right?”

“Well I think so but clearly your mum doesn’t. Why was she yelling at you?”

“I don’t know.. I think it’s because me and my older brother were talking about how I want to start dating again and my mum doesn’t want me to have a boyfriend.”

“You’re 18, you can do what you want.”

“Tell my mum that.”

“But like.. does she not want you to ever date someone?”

“I don’t know.. at least not now. And she says that if I’m gonna date someone, he has to be smart, funny, kind, tidy, “normal”. Like what does that even mean?”

“Pft! She’d hate me ey?”

“Mhm… hold on!”

“I’m holding on.”

I give a little laugh before I continue talking

“Alright.. this might be crazy but what if… we fake date to piss her off?”

“Y/n? Really?”

“Yes really. Why not?”

“I don’t know… I just don’t think that that is the best way to prove to her that you’re responsible and grown up.”

“Yeah but… will you do it?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“You get to say that you’re dating me.”

“Fair enough…”

“Oh Matt, thank you!”

“You’re welcome. What do I have to do?”

“Just pretend to date me.”

“I can do that.”

He gives me a cheeky smile and a little wink before walking away.

[Timeskip]

The lesson is over and Matt walks up to me, smiling. He grabs my waist and pulls me in for a soft, warm kiss. I am startled but I go with it, melting into his body involuntarily

I pull away and look at him with confusion, my face bewildered

“What? I was practicing.”

I roll my eyes playfully and laugh out loud, my head falling to his chest as I laugh

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Well at least I’m ready now, ey?”

“Mhm.”

He grabs my waist again and pulls me into his arms, my head resting on his chest. I can’t help but feel like he isn’t “practicing” but he actually likes me… I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad if he did

I mean look at him, his eyes, his hair, his soft smile, his laugh, his hands, his tattoos, everything. I know I shouldn’t be liking this but I just can’t help it

“Y/n? You alright? Staring a little there, love.”

“Oh sorry.”

I give a little awkward giggle and he smiles at me, leaning down to kiss me again

“Okay Matt, I think you’re well rehearsed now. People are gonna start thinking that we’re actually dating.”

“And why would that be so bad?”

And with that, he winks at me and walks away. I am frozen still as what he says really sinks in

[Timeskip]

I wait outside the school, headphones in and listening to music while I wait for Matt to come out of English

As I have my head down, I feel his arms wrap around my waist and I giggle. He lets go and looks around at me, smiling

“Hello.”

“Hi, how’s your rehearsals going?”

“Well I haven’t seen you since first lesson so, not great.”

“Sorry, I was hanging out with Jess at lunch.”

“Oh yeah I know Jess! She’s nice.”

“And she’s pretty.”

“Meh.. she’s mid. You’re pretty.”

“There you go! Rehearsals are back on.”

“Who said I was rehearsing?”

“See, you did that earlier-“

I am mid sentence before Matt grabs my hand and starts walking off

“Okay.. we’ll continue talking later.”

Me and Matt walk hand in hand back to my house and when he reach my street, I roll up his sleeves to reveal his tattoos and I mess up his hair

“What are you doing?”

“You need to look like a real scruff. The whole point was to be the opposite of neat and tidy.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes playfully before grabbing my hand again, walking the rest of the way down my street

We reach my door and I open it, getting my mum’s attention before I let Matt walk in

“Mum, meet Matt.”

“Oh… Matt. Hello…”

She awkwardly shakes his hand before giving me a death glare, pulling her hand away from his aggressively

“And who is this, y/n?”

“This is my boyfriend.”

“What?”

“Mhm. Meet my boyfriend.”

“No. Just no.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry baby, she’s being rude. Mum, be nice!”

“What have I told you about boys? Especially boys like him?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s not exactly… what I told you is he?”

“Why?”

“Tattoos? Hair?”

“Oi! What’s wrong with his hair?”

Me and my mum start getting into a heated argument about how Matt is actually a good guy and that she’s being rude

“Babe, come on. Let’s just go to your room.”

“Leave the door open!”

“No.”

I take Matt’s hand and lead him up the stairs, taking him to my room. We walk in and I close the door

He smiles at me and I give him a weak, defeated smile back. He grabs my waist and pulls me against his chest

“I’m sorry Matt.. this isn’t how this night was supposed to go.”

“It’s alright, darling.”

He grabs my face and pulls me into him, pressing his lips against mine. I let him kiss me because I need something to make me feel better

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, wanting more of me. His tongue grazes my bottom lip, wanting entrance that I quickly grant

He slides his tongue in, letting it explore my mouth with a quiet moan. He taps my inner thigh, indicating for me to jump

I jump into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist, my arms linking around his neck

We continue to kiss until we loose our breath, eventually pulling away to look into each other’s eyes

“Matt I can’t do this…”

“Can’t do what, sweetheart?”

“Pretend like I don’t want more.”

“What do you mean…?”

“I don’t want to ‘fake date’… I want you to actually be my boyfriend.”

“Really..?”

“Yes really.”

“Alright then, let’s give it a go.”

“Can we actually?!”

“Yes… I’d love to go out with you actually.”

“For real?”

“For real, for real.”

“Oh Matt!”

I kiss his soft lips again, running my fingers through his silky hair

“My mum is gonna kill me.”

________________________________________

Taglist : @astrolynnworld @thetriplets3 @mattsneezing @mattybswife @sturngirls

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

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olderthannetfic · 9 months ago

Note

Honestly, instead of (only) blaming the author… I'd rather like to ask: What the fuck was the publisher thinking? And where the fucking was the sensitivity reader? I constantly see talks about sensitivity readers for books with controversial and historical and cultural content, especially it features front and center. So where was one?

Let's pivot for just a moment here.

The publisher is Random house, which does have a catalogue of queer and poc writing. With how much shit these two groups experience in publishing, you'd expect there to maybe be extra support or something, at least when it comes to putting the metaphorical foot in your mouth after stepping on a figurative controversy landmine.

Why the fuck did they let any of that slide, and only NOW doing damage control? Did they think that Oh the author's Chinese, why bother? There are several parts that hit you during reading, and this should have been caught, and either been removed or edited to not turn into a complete pitfall. Don't make me mention the advertising.

I've literally never met a person who knew everything of their own ancestral history, or was completely accurate in what they knew. Even people who've lived through history don't know everything. Why do people believe that immigrants do? Speaking from personal experience as well.

I personally don't even think it's bad she wanted to write about that, and did it for her family.

But wasn't there a moment they went: Ok... wait. We respect you wanna write this, but... this could really end badly because of the actual historical weight. How about we have a few history and sensitivity readers check it over? Maybe the act of human experimentation of your own people shouldn't be put in a scenario where the FMC immediately after thinks about wanting to kiss the lips of the green eyed guy ordering said experimentation. Maybe it isn't going to work that well if you already told people that this is based on the real historical slaughter of humans in the 1930-40's?

Where was the editor in this? The sensitivity reader? Was there no one who said, ok wait stop. Is this written in a way that doesn't completely crash the car?

I just wanna take the publisher and shake them. I want to shake them and tell them that nobody's infallible, and that yes, even writing about your own history, culture and ancestry can end up with a lot of bullshit when you don't know better. What's the point of a publisher if they help you when it's too late to fix it? Ancestral history also doesn't mean you have free reign, and everyone else, your people included, shouldn't get an opinion. This isn't someone writing a name wrong by a letter, or accidentally writing the wrong dish as the national dish of a country. Where the fuck was the publisher in all this? Especially for a debut author!!!

God, fuck publishers for real.

I'm not really up on what's going on behind the scenes at big publishers these days, but I have the impression that one of their tactics in recent decades is just to find a lot of very youthful debut authors who will feel aspirational for the target audience (while also inciting a lot of jealousy, naturally), do very minimal editing of their manuscripts, and let anybody who doesn't hit it out of the park on the first try disappear into obscurity.

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tiredofpeoplebutstilllovethem · 4 months ago

Text

Stupid TMNT AU

Hello it's been a while how is everyone doing?

Good? That's great. Now for the very stupid very dumb TMNT AU I think to me at least

Okay this AU just pop into my head without warning even though today I have a collage exam but,

This is inspired by Two Souls by Virgilisspidey

see your name in shining lights by mlmtelephoneboy

Out Of The Shadows and Into The Neon by ObsidianCreates

Prompts inspired from @misteria247

Prompt also inspired by @tending-the-hearth

I think there's some more but i don't quite remember when I remember I will edit it here

This take place in Post TMNT 2012, like the 2012 group adventures are over, people accept them are very protective? or more like the human is just getting used to mutants but, slowly warming up to them so if anyone from outside New York moved a police men or any authorities in New York would be like "Okay, you can stay here and lived here but, there is a conditions you have to fulfill break them you have to find a new home got it? Okay so......" and for the ROTTMNT it's Post movie

Like there's an earthquake that is a happening around New York or around the world studently like it's too late to give warnings because of how fast the earthquake happened and while evacuated everyone from the perimeters 12 Leo sees someone running then a building was about to fell on top of them, 12 Leo being the martyr complex he is save them but gets pile on by the rumbles hard 12 Leo can't like get to his T-Phone because his arms are like pinned under the rumble moving would make the rumble crush him more, so 12 Leo stays there stuck hoping anyone would tell his brothers where he is that he is stuck and can't get out

But by the time 12 Leo's brothers did manage to be informs It Would Be Too Late

Then 12 Leo wakes up feeling something is wrong and sees he's a human and a baby?! What the fu-shell shell what the shell wasn't he just getting crushed by a building? 12 Leo looks around and sees people that we're supposed to be his parents, 12 Leo founds out his name would be ............(because I don't know what named suits him I didn't get far into here really this is just me rambling) and 12 Leo notice the place is way to bright to be his dimension, 12 Leo has a suspicious but can't prove it yet, so 12 Leo just accept like he had no other choice because hey he is a child and he pretty sure he can't go back to New York cause he died.

It's been around years since 12 Leo who is now maybe 12 or 15 year old? not sure, was reborn here everything's fine, he has a somewhat good relationships with his parents, but he still missed his brothers and the people back in his dimension dearly. One day 12 Leo has to moved to New York and he is excited since because 12 Leo thinks he is not in his own dimension because of how bright the colors are and the people around and himself here are 2D that means he is in a new dimension, 12 Leo thinks it's a different one from the 1987 version.

Either 12 Leo is made to moved to New York alone or with someone, after moving in his new apartment 12 Leo take a walk outside, walking around taking in the different scenery of New York then his own dimension, this place makes 12 Leo a little disoriented but he manage, Leo then buying coffee from a cafe he found and a croissant, before heading to the groceries store to buy some instant food and some ingredient to try to cook something simple that he can actually cook without burning the apartment down.

Everything goes smoothly for 12 Leo, he goes to a new school, meet many people, doing human stuff and studies, and slightly learning things like a bit chemistry, technology, arts, cooking, and a bit of skating, and a few more as his hobbies, doing anything that remind 12 Leo of his brother and friends to makes him feel like they are with him, and also probably because if he did live alone in the apartment 12 Leo can still take care of himself. Months goes by and nothing happened that makes 12 Leo paranoia because if things is going smoothly shit going down around the corner.

And it did one day when 12 Leo was groceries shopping he notice someone or someone's are jumping from rooftop to rooftop, 12 Leo could make out the silhouette of four turtles and 2 or 3 humans and 12 Leo is just like "Yup diffidently another dimension"

That leads to Leo getting snatch by the remaining of the Foot Clan, to take as hostage and then the rottmnt came to save him, only to find 12 Leo who has the chair he is tied up to as a weapon and a few knock out Foot Ninja's and 12 Leo noticing them was like "Uhhh I better get going" and just ran.

I stop here for now I guess.

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt fandom #Stupid AU #Question everything my brain throw at me #I tag other dimensions TMNT as well because why not because my brain also thinks it's being funny #tmnt 1987 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2007 #rise of the tmnt #tmnt bayverse #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt vs batman #the last ronin #At this point all tmnt versions if it can be make sense #I can't write for the lifing daylight so #I just write it here so it would stop I hope

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