#i think the main difference between my bill and others is his obsession with being dramatic and having the best presentation out of everyone

[xvyredx]

More drawings of my bill design , now featuring sub-par anatomy and my sketchbook's textured paper!.

That's how he looks in the theraprism , he's not doing that good considering they took away his powers and dramatic looks...oh and also he has to actually deal with his issues, but his glamour is much more important!

[wisteria-lodge]

I’d love if you ever expanded your thoughts on the way JKR writes romance, because it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. One thing that’s very interesting to me is that jealousy is used as a driving force for both of the main romantic storylines in HP. It’s more obvious with Ron/Hermione (the Yule Ball, basically everything that happens between them in book 6, the locket horcrux stuff) but also plays a big role in Harry/Ginny. Harry’s jealousy of her relationship with Dean is what makes him realize he’s into her, and moments where he’s pining for Ginny tend to focus on that jealousy more than an actual appreciation of Ginny’s personality. The most important part of writing a convincing romance is making readers believe that these characters actually care about each other and want to spend time together, and it feels like maybe what you describe as JKR’s obsession with pining made her lose sight of that. What do you think?

We've also got jealousy as a motif in Harry/Cho and Severus/Lily. It is absolutely a trope she uses, a lot. 

When I was trying to get my head around how JKR writes romance, the main thing that made it click for me was realizing that, to her - romance is inherently threatening. And/or embarrassing, overpowering, animalistic, dangerous. (thanks to @the-phoenix-heart for that line.) 

Really, the Harry Potter books are kind of a romance-free zone. It is incredibly unusual to see a romantic couple, acting like a couple, on the page. We spend a lot of time with Arthur and Molly, and while they’re both pretty fleshed out as characters, we get almost nothing of their couple dynamic (and what we do get doesn’t seem all that positive…) The blocking tends to physically separate them - Molly isn’t at the World Cup or Harry’s hearing, Arthur is working overtime when Harry is at the Burrow, etc. This is a pattern: her romantic couples, of which there are not many, have a way of being in different rooms, on different side quests, one of them is mind-controlled, one of them is unconscious, it cuts to black right before Harry kisses Cho, and right after he kisses Ginny.

Ron/Hermione takes place mostly outside of Harry’s perspective, and Harry/Ginny takes place mostly out of *the reader's* perspective. It’s a lot of narration, a lot of “Harry could not help himself talking to Ginny, laughing with her, walking back from practice with her” and “[Harry] was supposedly finishing his Herbology homework but in reality reliving a particularly happy hour he had spent down by the lake with Ginny at lunchtime.” Like, I don’t know. I might have liked to see those scenes play out.  

Bill/Fleur is probably her most successful couple (I mean, who doesn't like Bill and Fleur?) But even they almost never interact with each other. They talk about their relationship to other people, other people talk about them, but like… I’m just going to go through a rundown of every single time we see Bill and Fleur interact: 

 “’E is always so thoughtful,” purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill’s nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her cereal behind Fleur. Harry choked over his cornflakes.

(Romance = embarrassing) 

What if [Ron and Hermione] became like Bill and Fleur, and it became excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their presence, so that he was shut out for good?

(Romance = embarassing, threatening)

Most [of the people at Dumbledore’s funeral] Harry did not recognize, but a few he did, including (...) Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred and George

(put a pin in this one, I’m going to come back to it) 

“Bah,” said Fleur [in Harry’s body], checking herself in the microwave door, “Bill, don’t look at me — I’m ’ideous.”

(I actually think this is kind of cute in context, but unfortunately JKR is being uncharitable to her hyper-femme characters again, and making a joke about woman-in-male-body, which unfortunately makes it less cute in the grand scheme of things) 

“I’m taking Fleur on a thestral,” said Bill. “She’s not that fond of brooms.” Fleur walked over to stand beside him, giving him a soppy, slavish look that Harry hoped with all his heart would never appear on his face again.

(Romance = embarrassing) 

“We saw [Mad-Eye die]” said Bill; Fleur nodded, tear tracks glittering on her cheeks... 

(Not sure if this counts as them interacting, but they are at least next to each other)

“No,” said Bill at once, “I’ll do it, I’ll come.” “Where are you going?” said Tonks and Fleur together. “Mad-Eye’s body,” said Lupin. “We need to recover it.”

(this one doesn’t even frame them as a couple, since the teams have split into Bill and Lupin and Tonks and Fleur.) 

“We can’t tell you what we’re doing,” said Harry flatly. “You’re in the Order, Bill, you know Dumbledore left us a mission. We’re not supposed to talk about it to anyone else.” Fleur made an impatient noise, but Bill did not look at her.”

(... does this imply that Fleur isn’t in the Order? Anyway, they’re married at this point, and kinda disagreeing a la Molly and Arthur) 

[Griphook] continued to request trays of food in his room, like the still frail Ollivander, until Bill (following an angry outburst from Fleur) went upstairs to tell him that the arrangement could not continue.

(Another conflict, but hey, at least it sounds like they resolved it. We hear about their daughter Victoire in the epilogue, but this is the last time we see Bill and Fleur together.) 

But, okay. Not putting romance in the Harry Potter books is a perfectly fine creative choice. JKR can absolutely decide she just wants to give other things more emotional weight. What clarified this for me was the Fantastic Beasts films and her adult literature (particularly the Cormoran Strike books.) In those, JKR is wanting to write romance. And yet....

In Fantastic Beasts, she can write the awkward getting-to-know-you pre-romance stuff, but the second Jacob and Queenie are actually a couple - he loses his memory, then he’s brainwashed, she’s with Grindelwald, they’re different plot lines that never intersect… and then they just get married at the end of Secrets of Dumbledore. So it’s not even a slow-burn, will-they-won’t-they thing. Tina and Newt get the same treatment, except their pre-romance getting-to-know-you beats are so subtle that a lot of people missed them completely. Then Tina's angry at Newt for a very silly misunderstanding… then in a separate plotline… and is only in the third film for two minutes at the end. People compare the structure of these films to Indiana Jones, but in those movies the love interest is actually hanging out with Indy the whole time. In the Cormoran Strike books, the romantic leads do spend time together, but they’ve also been doing a pining, bad timing, will they/won’t they back-and-forth thing for seven books. And they’re long books. 

So okay. What’s going on. Why is this. 

JK Rowling has been very public about the trauma she has from abusive relationships and sexual assault, and I’m afraid I do have to bring that up in a conversation about why she treats romance so negatively. More specifically - if I had to guess - I think she finds male attraction towards women threatening. (I’m sure we all remember Harry’s chest monster.)  I think she feels a little icky writing it, which is why when she does do it… it feels perfunctory, generic, repetitive, and also not the sort of thing that would come from a teenage boy. (Like when has a 14-year-old boy ever thought a girl was pretty because she had nice teeth. That’s such a straight girl compliment.) BUT, when she writes about the attractiveness of guys - it gets more specific, more nuanced, more interesting, and also a lot less uncomfortable. J.K. Rowling likes guys! She’s allowed. 

But of course, she also tends to write male viewpoint characters, and I think this is why a lot of her guys (and Harry specifically) kinda read as queer to a lot of people. We’re told Harry is distracted by/attracted to Cho Chang… but is he though? Compared to the way “pretty boy” Cedric, or “sleek haired” Draco get under his skin? 

I want to take a look at her adult romantic leads for a second. Because in Fantastic Beasts, she really did pull out all the stops to make Newt and Jacob as non-threatening as humanly possible. Newt is a gentle, pacifist, Doctor Dolittle-type conservationist who barely seems interested in women at all, and Jacob… is a Muggle baker. She pairs Newt with Tina, tough as nails American star auror. Jacob is with Queenie, who is constantly literally reading his mind. Which is an ability we’ve only seen with the most powerful wizards. These guys are not a threat to these ladies. In Queenie’s case, the power balance is tipped so insanely far in her direction that I’m a little bit worried for Jacob (and she does in fact, bewitch him into doing stuff.) I think JKR wrote her couples this way so any romance she wrote with them would also feel safe… and sadly I don’t think it worked. The most fleshed out couple dynamic we get is Dumbledore/Grindelwald, who have a coffee date and a duel in the third movie. But - that’s the one movie where she doesn’t have sole screenwriting credit, they’re exes, and they're also both GUYS, so she doesn’t have to worry about any kind of male/female power imbalance gunk, or put herself in the headspace of a guy being attracted to women.

Now I do want to talk about Cormoran Strike. Of all her non-threatening male love interests, this is the one who seems to work best for her. She’s stuck with him the longest, and it actually seems possible that we might get an actual romantic scene with him in the next book. 

Here’s my theory. I think that when JKR was writing Goblet of Fire, and it came time to introduce the real Mad-Eye Moody - imprisoned in the bottom of his own trunk, weak, down a leg and an eye -  something clicked. Because that is someone who is both entirely masculine, and entirely safe, and that makes him the perfect romantic figure. And I absolutely think she grabbed that archetype when it came to writing Cormoran Strike.

Basically, this character just is Mad-Eye Moody, only 15(ish) years younger, and non-magical. Strike is an ex-military cop who now freelances. He’s older than his love interest, he’s been around the block a few times. He’s gruff, but careful and kind, world-weary and grizzled, extremely capable, principled, tough, and just sort of hyper aware of what’s going on around him. He is also a bigger guy with some access weight who is not “conventionally attractive” - and for JKR this is a feature, not a bug. If your female character is into someone who is not *~*~handsome~*~* that means they’re cool, deep, not like other girls. Viktor Krum is not conventionally attractive, and (after the werewolf attack) neither is Bill. In fact “he now bore a distinct resemblance to Mad-Eye Moody.” JKR likes Mad-Eye Moody. 

And you better believe that Cormoran Strike has a broken nose and a missing leg, just like Mad-Eye Moody. Strike’s prosthetic leg comes up a *lot.* I think it’s telling that the loving interaction we see between Bill and Fleur is her physically supporting him at Dumbledore's funeral post werewolf attack, and the loving little wrist squeeze we get between Lucius and Narcissa is right before Lucius hands his wand over. Basically, JKR likes someone who is sexy and capable and has a lot of presence, but who you get to take care of, and who… can’t chase you. Doesn’t pose a threat. That's the fantasy. 

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

After doing some thinking on this, I think the most interesting movie in the Creed-Rocky universe is “Creed II”:

While most of the movies in the franchise are good, Creed II fascinates me since it’s actually different in how it approaches the main conflict. Most of the movies follow the same formula of underdog boxer must triumph over superior opponent, while Creed II feels more focused on the behind-the-scenes drama and history.

This movie could’ve easily just been a revenge story. Adonis wants to avenge his dad, so he beats up the son of his dad’s killer. However, it feels like the writers of the movie wanted to dig deeper into this. While the revenge story would be simpler and more theatrical, Creed II instead asks the audience how this would be realistically.

And the answer is…really sad, actually.

You’d think that Adonis would be at Kill Bill-levels of vengeful, but he’s not. Instead, he’s more frustrated by how he’s expected to want to avenge his father. He just became world champion and yet the media is only talking about him fighting Viktor Drago. Even Donnie admits you can’t talk about the Creeds without talking about the Dragos. Sure, he does resent Ivan, of course he would. But he doesn’t have a beef with Viktor, and it shows.

Viktor wasn’t doing any better. Although he was trash talking Donnie, you can tell how frustrated he was with how he was being used to “restore” Ivan’s honor. He hated how the Russian leaders, especially his mother, were only treating him and his father well after he started winning in the ring. None of it felt genuine, it’s like he was just a racehorse to them.

When you look at Donnie and Viktor’s arcs as a whole, it’s fascinating just how the arcs work as an overall discussion on legacy. Legacy ends up being the true villain of the movie:

1) Donnie can’t establish his own legacy since he’s chained to his father’s legacy. Even though he has the belt, no one cared. They just wanted the spiritual successor to Apollo vs. Ivan.

2) Viktor was literally raised in hardship because of what happened to his father in the 1980s. Then, he realized he was being used as a way to restore his father’s legacy, which disgusted him.

3) For both Adonis and Viktor, neither of them harbored any actual hate to each other. Any feelings of resentment came solely from their fathers’ actions.

4) Rocky wouldn’t even put up pictures of his fight with Ivan, which makes sense since there wasn’t anything uplifting about that match. Sure, he ended the Cold War (lol) but it doesn’t change the fact that the fight was about vengeance.

5) Ivan was so traumatized by his defeat that he felt like he deserved his exiling. Exiled…for losing a damn boxing match. It took nearly losing his son in the ring for him to realize that reclaiming his lost glory was not worth it.

The end fight is, in my opinion, the most interesting showdown in the franchise. Instead of feeling like a battle between a hero and a villain, it felt more…therapeutic? It’s like Donnie and Viktor knew that they couldn’t move forward with their lives until they got this fight over with, so that’s what they do. You can tell there’s a feeling of relief on both ends once the fight finishes since Donnie got the win over Viktor (thus ending the media’s obsession over a Creed-Drago revenge match) and Ivan affirmed to Viktor that he’ll always have his father’s love.

I should note that there’s a deleted scene (it shouldn’t have been!) where Donnie, Viktor, and Ivan all make peace with each other. I feel like that was the point of making this sequel. It’s not a revenge story like what most people thought, it’s a story of healing, past trauma, generational conflict, and moving on from the past. That’s also why Creed III is a brilliant follow-up since, for the first time in the Creed series, it’s a movie that’s about Donnie’s legacy, not Apollo or Rocky’s.

Basically, Creed II treated the fight between the sons of Apollo and Ivan as an obligation that needed to be fulfilled. It’s funny since that actually works as meta commentary on the audience since that was what a lot of people wanted to see when the first Creed movie was announced. Once that obligation was finished, Donnie and Viktor were able to move on with their lives and establish their own legacies, as seen in Creed III.

And that’s kinda beautiful.

[oatmealdaydreams]

My Gravity Falls AUs (So Far)

I caved, and so here's me yapping about my collection of AUs...except The Spoiler One.

Calming Seas AU

The basic premise is qpp Fiddlestan in college at BMU in the 70s because Stan didn't break his brother's project in this universe. Murder mystery thriller plotline with some queerplatonic realizations from Fiddlestan. Made multiple posts about this already. Main au I'm working on.

"The Spoiler One"

After the Calming Seas fic is finished, I'll reveal what this one is about. For now: it's OC-centric and kinda basic. I like drawing for it though, so there's art already (not that I've posted any yet). It has an actual name but um. Spoilers.

Starry Gods AU

Basic idea is this: Mabel accidentally gets transformed into a shape god like Bill. This is post-Bill's Death, so...not currently a shape god around Gravity Falls. The Pines family has to now figure out how to turn Mabel back. She's referred to as "Shooting Star" by most other people while in this form. Gravity Falls typical adventures ensue. Waddles is very confused.

The rest AUs below are all variations of basic Time Stuck AU concept

Standard TimeTrap AU

Time Stuck except the twins being stuck in time wasn't accidental! It's from a time trap leftover by Bill before he died as a backup plan. It's set pre-Portal Incident. Mabel ends up with Ford (who still gets possessed by Bill at times), and Dipper ends up with homeless Stan. Otherwise, the usual Time Stuck AU of the twins reuniting and finding a way back home because the Time Tape is broken. Usual family drama between the Stan Twins.

Papa Fiddle AU

Time Stuck except it's before Fiddleford stops being Ford's assistant. Mabel ends up with Ford & Fiddleford. Dipper ends up with homeless Stan. The twins are separated briefly; they reunite pretty early on. Set before Stan is supposed to go to Gravity Falls, but Dipper convinces him to go so he can get back home. Ford assumes Dipper is Stan's child upon meeting him. Because Stan is kinda emotionally unavailable & Ford is Bill-obsessed-and-possessed still, Fiddleford is the most stable person for the kids to be around. Thinking this is before Fiddleford goes obsessive with the memory gun, so he's pretty intact mentally. In this universe, he's freshly divorced and missing his son, Tate, a lot. Sees the kids and immediately gets attached to them, especially since he's literally a dad and they kinda remind him of Tate a little bit. Fiddleford is protective over the twins, and he's pretty good at taking care of them. Lots more with this one, but there's only so much I can write at once. Otherwise, standard Time Tape is broken & the twins need to get back to their own timeline.

Accidental Fatherhood AU

Time Stuck except both of the twins end up homeless Stan while he's on his way to Gravity Falls & he immediately attaches to them. He thinks they're a pair of homeless kids that got kicked out or something. Dipper is trans, and when that's revealed to Stan, he thinks that's why these kids were kicked out because this is the 80s. Gets really protective over them. Especially when it comes to Dipper and others asking why he's a little "feminine" compared to other boys his age. Makes it clear to Ford that if anything happens to his kids, Stan will not hesitate to protect by any means. He still loves his brother, he always will, but his kids come first. Ford thinks the twins are like Stan's biological kids upon first meeting them. Stan does not admit nor deny if that's true. Otherwise, standard Time Stuck AU with broken Time Tape, needing to get the twins back home, etc.

New Visions AU

Time Stuck except it's Wendy, Tate, and Mabel who get stuck in the past. They end up with homeless Stan who's living on the road because it puts them about 5 years before he's supposed to go to Gravity Falls. This happened because of an accident on a fishing day at the lake, and they were all together because of different connections to McGucket. Now, see, past!Stan sees a trio of homeless people on the side of the road that consists of a child and two young adults. What the heck is he supposed to do when they look so roughed-up? He assumes their homeless and/or run-aways. The trio convinces Stan to go to Gravity Falls way earlier than he's supposed to because it's "the way to get them home". This is during while Fiddleford is still Ford's assistant & Ford is still Bill-obsessed-and-possessed. Tate gets to meet a younger version of his dad before all the memory loss and mental decline, and he has a chat with him about not being there for his son (because in this universe, Fiddleford has been recently divorced and only talking to his child-age son through phone calls). Fiddleford explains how he fears he's already messed up with his kid and that there's no hope in trying to fix things at this point. Tate sees his dad in a whole new light. Past!Stan and Wendy bond over being raised by fathers who teach them how to be tough instead of giving them the comfort they needed as a kid. Wendy starts seeing Stan in a whole new light as she learns what his life has been like and why he's such a grump in the future. Mabel learns more about her Grunkle Stan, more about McGucket/Fiddleford, and more about how Ford & Stan are towards each other. She starts seeing both Stan and McGucket in a whole new light. Wendy & Mabel get closer to Tate as everything is going on. MEANWHILE: in the present, Stan, Ford, Soos, and Dipper are all trying to figure out a way to get the Time Stuck Trio back. One of Wendy's younger brothers even pays a visit at some point because he's wondering where his big sister is. The rest is the standard Time Stuck AU with a broken Time Tape, needing to get back home, etc.

[starkeristheendgame]

Inspired by 9-1-1 (on Fox), which is my current obsession. I highly recommend checking it out and it’s spin-off series 9-1-1: Lonestar. If you already like 9-1-1 and Buddie (Buck and Eddie) then you should check out my new main account @therogueheart. Liberty has been taken with protocols and practices here, but the land of fiction knows no rules.

Firefighter!Tony x Civilian!Peter.

TW: Age difference | Under-negotiated sexual content | Unrealistic practises

“NYFD! We’re evacuating the block!”

“NYFD, are any residents present?”

Peter jerked awake to loud yelling and incessant pounding on his door, flailing blearily in bed for a moment before he fell off the side of in a heap of limbs and bedding, scrambling to get upright.

He shrugged on a hoodie and tripped into a pair of combat boots, stumbling his way sleepily to the door. He was operating on barely five hours of sleep and felt every hour he was sorely missing - though his midterms were a good enough reason to burn the midnight oil.

He wrenched the door open just as a firefighter on the other side went to swing the breach ram into it, letting out a squeak of panic as it stopped mere inches from his belly. The man wielding it was huge; with short blond hair and shoulders that could fit a person comfortably on either side. 

“That was close, I could’ve ruptured your entire torsal cavity and killed you!” the firefighter boomed cheerfully, straightening up with a broad, dazzling smile. Peter let out a faint noise and did his best not to pass out, sagging against the doorframe and gripping it. 

He was wide fucking awake now, that was for sure.

“My name is Thor, I’m with the NYPD, Manhattan division. We’re evacuating the block, there’s been a gas leak on the lower and mid levels and there’s risk of combustion,” the man ordered, slinging the ram over his shoulder and gesturing to the hallway. Peter could hear other voices, all similar conversations amidst the yells of NYPD, open up!

“Uh,” was all Peter got out before he was being ushered out of his doorway. Firefighter Thor nudged him several steps forwards before Peter’s brain finally came online and he jerked to a stop.

“Wait! I need my Adderall and my phone! If I don’t call Aunt May she’s gonna kill me and if I don’t take my meds I’m gonna be screwed!”

Thor looked undecided, brows pinching. “You shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay, Thor. Move onto the North quadrant; I’ll stay with this one,” came a voice from behind them and Peter turned, shrinking in on himself a little. 

Illuminated in the crappy hallway lighting was a man who looked like he’d stepped straight off a movie billboard. He wasn’t as tall or the same brand of clean-cut Hollywood handsome that Thor was, but he was just as attractive. More so, if Peter was going to acknowledge his tendency to lust after men twice or even thrice his age. 

The man had black hair swept into a neat side-leaning quiff, a hint of salt and pepper at his temples. His facial hair had been styled in a way that ought to look ridiculous but only served to give him a unique, sharp look, accentuating the shape of his jaw. 

The man winked at him and Peter realised he’d been staring. When he glanced to the side Thor had already moved off out of sight and the firefighter left behind gestured to Peter’s door, which was thankfully still open ajar from where he’d been rushed out.

“Uh, thanks. Thank you...Sir? Officer?” he cringed at his own awkwardness, shuffling past. The man looked amused, quirking a brow and pursing his lips a little, even as something indescribable flashed in his eyes. 

“Sir works just fine, if that’s your thing. But for the record - I’m Captain Stark. Pretty boys get to call me Tony, though,” the man winked again, teasing seeping into his voice as Peter flushed and beelined for his bed, grabbing his phone from it’s charger and scooping up his bill box and keys. 

He lamented not being able to grab anything else, but he knew better than to put himself (and someone else) at risk by lingering. Tony ushered him out of the door with a hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the stairwell. Peter could hear noises and voices on the lower levels but realised with surprise that they were the only two left on the topmost floor.

“You were dead to the world, kid. Thor was banging on your door like crazy. We almost gave you up for not in,” Tony voiced, seemingly understanding his realisation. Peter flushed again and mumbled something about studying, hurrying down the stairs as quickly as he could, Tony a close and solid presence at his back.

It wasn’t until the cool, outside air hit his legs that he realised he was still only wearing a thin hoodie and the shorts he’d gone to sleep in. He shivered in dismay, wrapping his arms around himself. He wasn’t the only one who’d clearly been dragged out of bed - there were people milling around in robes and pyjama sets. 

One poor man was even shivering in a ratty blanket, suds dripping from his hair and into his eyes. 

“What happened?” he asked, doing his best to stop his teeth from chattering. 

“Residents on the lower levels reported strong smells of sulphur and gas. We think it’s a line rupture or faulty heater somewhere. Full evac is protocol until we know for sure and can get started on a fix,” the fire Captain answered, steering him a little away from the main crowd and to one of the trucks. 

“Take a seat, kid,” Tony offered, gesturing to the step-up of the truck. Peter did, flinching as his bare skin met the icy metal. The man left him there, turning away to resume his role as he barked orders and disappeared off into the fray. Peter busied himself with his phone, only looking up when Tony’s voice boomed out over the crowd sometime later. 

“Alright, everybody listen up!” the man yelled, clapping his hands. “We’ve located the source of the gas and the good news is that it’s a relatively easy fix. The bad news is that it’ll take a minimum of four hours. In the name of safety, none of you can return to the building until it’s deemed safe to do so. Your landlord and building technicians will get in contact as soon as they’ve been given the okay for you to return home. In the meantime, I suggest you go visit friends, family, or find a nice coffee shop while you wait!”

An immediate chorus of groans, complaints and angry remarks bubbled up, the firefighters all doing their best to marshal the situation and contain the displeasure. Peter shuffled where he sat, chewing his lower lip in frustration. 

Aunt May was half a city away and on shift; Ned was visiting his Grandma and MJ’s girlfriend had stayed the night, meaning if Peter valued his eyes he couldn’t show up at her door. 

Which meant he was probably going to spend the next four hours shivering at a Starbucks and studying on his phone. 

Great. 

“You good, kid?” the voice was joined by a pair of turnout clad legs and Peter looked up, tossing his phone between his hands. Out in the natural light Captain Stark was even more handsome, a strange mix between rugged and polished. 

“Um, yeah. Just...Trying to decide which coffee shop I’m gonna move into,” he sighed, offering a weak smile. The Captain looked thoughtful. 

“Little thing like you, Mom and Dad weren’t just out getting milk?” his tone was teasing but curious. Peter shook his head. 

“Uh, no. I don’t...I did live with my Aunt. But I graduated highschool early and got a scholarship for the Manhattan Institute of Advanced Sciences. That shitty little studio is all mine,” he rattled the keys in his pocket and shifted. His butt had warmed the step some, but it still wasn’t exactly comfortable. 

As if sensing his discomfort the man shifted, peeling himself out of the huge, heavy turnout jacket. “Here, sit up a little,” the man coaxed, crouching down. Peter found himself enveloped in the jacket as Captain Stark wrapped it around him and tucked it under his ass and thighs, pulling it shut so it cocooned him in the heat. 

It smelt of soap and aftershave and maybe a little bit of sweat, and Peter found himself relaxing immediately, giving a hum of pleased satisfaction. 

Tony was smiling at him when he opened his eyes again and he flushed, saved from embarrassment by a tall, lithe man approaching. 

“Cap, we got ‘em all squared. Company is on the way for the fix. The one-five-nine offered to stay and play babysitter. We’re clear to move out.” The man had a purple band-aid on his right brow and did a double-take when he looked down at Peter. “We get a new recruit, Cap?”

Captain Stark looked thoughtfully between Peter and the man, fingers curling around his waistband.

“Alright. Barton, round up the others, call to move out. Have the one-five-nine use radio line six if they need us. We’re bringing back a station puppy.”

‘Barton’ glanced at Peter again, eyes raking over him before he did something between a smile and a smirk. “Copy that,” he confirmed, spinning on his heel and jogging off. 

“Huh?” was all Peter could think to say. 

“You’ve got nowhere better to go and you’ll freeze without getting changed. I’ve got some spare clothes at the station and you can hole up on the couch until we get the go-ahead to send you home. Rogers can cook, so let’s see if we can’t put a good breakfast in that belly,” Tony responded, nudging him up and out of the way so he could open the truck door. 

And that was how Peter found himself wedged into the truck with Clint Barton, Thor Odinson and Steve Rogers. They crammed a spare headset on him and grilled him on student life as they drove, Captain Stark chiming in from the front of the truck. 

The station they pulled into was huge, newly renovated and vast. Firefighter Thor set two hands on his hips, lifting him out of the truck easily and setting him down on the floor, ruffling his hair before dogpiling onto Steve, both of them stumbling and grappling away, arguing in snippets about door breaches. 

A little dazed, he startled when a hand fell to his back again and turned, flushing when Captain Stark smirked at him and nudged him towards the locker room. The others were already there, stripping out of their turnouts and talking animatedly. 

Peter was divested of the jacket but was given a thicker, warmer hoodie emblazoned with ‘NYPD’ and ‘Stark’, the older man rooting around in a locker for a moment before producing a pair of sweats. 

They were baggy but he double-tied them and rolled up the ankles and found them more than comfortable, shyly thanking the man. Tony was watching him, eyes dark again with that hidden thought, before he seemingly shook himself out of it and herded Peter towards a set of steps. 

Upstairs was a kitchen space and a small common area with two couches and a TV. Barton immediately handed him a steaming mug of herbal tea and Captain Stark ushered him to the table and after several minutes of sitting in their midst and listening to firefighting stories, Steve placed a plate of toast, beans, bacon and eggs under his nose. 

“Eat it before Barton mauls you for it,” Steve advised with a grin, sinking into the seat opposite him and stretching out, one arm slung around the back of Thor’s chair. Peter took the warning and dug in, shamelessly moaning at the taste. The eggs had been seasoned and there was something in the butter on the toast that made it rich and almost a little salty. 

“Better than sex, huh kid?” Tony teased from his side and Clint gasped, throwing his hands over Peter’s ears. 

“He doesn’t know what that is yet!”

After breakfast he was bundled onto the couch, handed a mug of tea to keep his hands warm and the remote to the TV as the others stomped down the staircase, citing organising their gear.

The alarm blared out as he was watching a nature documentary and he leaned over the balcony rail just in time to watch them leaping into the truck, flushing as the Captain shot him a wink before shutting the truck door, it’s sirens wailing and lights flashing as it pulled out of the bay.

They weren’t gone that long, but when the truck pulled back into the bay it was covered in dust and dirt. 

He padded down the staircase, pulling on the sleeves of his hoodie as he watched them all descend from the vehicle. They looked a little dusty and grimy, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Winch rescue up on the hiking trails,” Clint informed him as he jogged past, beelining for a room just past the lockers. “I’ve got dust in places it doesn't belong!”

The worst of them all was Steve, who’d apparently tripped over the winch line and gone tumbling down the hillside. He was largely unhurt, but he was also the last one out of the showers thanks to needing some extra scrubbing. 

“C’mon, kid. Time to earn your keep,” Tony teased once they were clean and dressed in LAFD shorts and shirts. They were filling buckets and bringing out plastic boxes full of soaps and polish, and he almost whimpered when he realised they were going to clean the truck. 

He was practically living a piece of fanfiction. 

Or torture. Either one was applicable. 

It took exactly ten minutes for someone to lose their shirt. Peter didn’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that it was Steve, who flexed his pecs with a wink when he caught Peter staring. As if not to be outdone, Thor immediately tugged his shirt over his head, baring an even bigger, beefier torso that fed the red flames burning up Peter’s cheeks. 

“Alright, show offs. Stop preening and get cleaning,” Tony barked at them good-naturedly, rolling his eyes as he handed Peter a sponge and flicked suds at the two taller blonds, who pulled faces but dove into the work with vigor. 

In an attempt to cool down his embarrassment he turned his attention to the truck, scrubbing gently in broad circles to match what the others were doing. He’d never realised just how big firetrucks were and he wondered idly how often they had to do this.

“Hey, shortstack, you wanna be on top?”

“Excuse me?” Peter squeaked, rounding on Captain Stark, who smirked at him and gestured to the roof of the truck and the little side ladder.

“On the roof. Tends to get gritty up there,” the man drawled, eyeing him in thinly veiled amusement. It had to be on purpose, Peter realised. Especially when he moved to the side ladder and a set of rough hands wrapped around his hips, boosting him up several rungs.

He settled down to scrub, listening to the soundtrack of the station and the men below, peering over the edge now and then to watch them or to join in the conversation. It was dizzying - having them all grinning up at him, sunny and sparkling and half-naked.

Mercifully, there wasn’t too much more teasing as they scrubbed and buffed and wiped. He wasn’t sure his cheeks could take getting any hotter - but then, where safer to combust but in the middle of a firehouse?

Captain Stark helped him down from the roof again with the same hold around his hips, thumbs rubbing brief circles along the ridges of the bones before the man stepped aside with a quirked smile.

“Hungry, kid?”

“If I don’t get fed soon I might start chewing off my own foot,” he harrumphed with a grin, ducking his head when Clint barked a laugh and ruffled his hair.

“Kid after my own stomach,” the man drawled, taking the steps three at a time in a way that Peter and his short legs watched enviously. 

Lunch was buffet bits like potato chips and little sponge-cake fingers and fruit, which Peter didn’t mind at all. He threw grapes into Clint’s mouth and arm-wrestled Steve and deliberately paid no attention at all to where Captain Stark’s leg pressed against his own under the table.

In the grand five hour total that he was there they got called out twice more, once for a tree rescue (a man who’d tried to save money by cutting his own yard tree, not a cat, much to Peter’s disappointment) and a small kitchen fire that left them bitching for a full hour afterwards about how people needed to stop trying to be Gordon Ramsey when they could barely cook packet ramen.

And then, just when the others were beginning to get shift about nearing their time to come off rotation, Peter’s phone rang. 

It was his landlord, sounding gruff and disinterested as he informed Peter the apartment had been deemed safe to re-enter, although all aparts were going to be required to keep their gas appliances off for the night and their windows open.

The others had stopped milling around in the locker room and listened in with thinly concealed interest, offering nods and smiles when it was revealed Peter was safe to hit home.

“Just on time, huh?” Steve beamed at him, ruffling his hair. 

“Aw, man. Do we have to give him back?” Clint whined in protest, swooping down to wrap himself around Peter like a clingy mink shrug. Peter giggled, tucking himself into the hold and putting on a pretend pout.

Truthfully; he didn’t want to leave. At first he’d been apprehensive about being stuck in a building with a bunch of strange men, but over the course of the day he’d come to cherish their family dynamic and the easy, comfortable companionship.

“You knew he was on loan, you layabouts,” Tony chastised them fondly, rolling his eyes. When his crew had been bullied into resuming their prep to leave, Captain Stark sank onto the bench next to Peter.

“You want a ride back, kid? I live past that area anyway and it’s my fault you’re so far out from home,” he noted with a warm smile, tugging on a boot and stooping to lace it.

Peter bit at his lower lip. Technically; he should say no. He didn’t actually know this man, and being a firefighter meant nothing for how trustworthy he was.

But…

“You don’t mind?” he asked lightly.

“It would be Captain’s honor,” Thor assured him with a wink. And that was that, the others finished dressed and they moved out to the parking lot as a herd, Peter trailing awkwardly along behind Tony towards a sleek, red and gold Audi.

He was hugged and ruffled and treated to a sizable farewell from the others, each of them pointedly telling him not to be a stranger as they piled into their vehicles and drove off in a cloud of muted music and squealing tyres.

When he turned around Tony had slipped over to the car and stood with the passenger door open, stooped into a half bow.

The interior was crisp and clean and smelt like fresh linen when he sank into the seat, tucking his legs in carefully. Tony slid into the driver’s side like he lived to be behind the wheel of a flashy car, slipping on a dark pair of shades and letting his window slide down.

Tony switched radio on to a smooth rock station and Peter let himself relax in the seat, phone still clutched carefully in hand just in case, but thoroughly enjoying the rumble of the car and the way Tony looked behind the wheel.

They didn’t speak much on the way but Peter snuck several glances at the other man, shivering through a bolt of unsteady heat each time Tony caught the motion and tipped his head, smirking at him from behind those shaded lenses.

The apartment building loomed up on them far too soon, signalling the end of a day Peter was confident he’d keep in his memories right up until his last breath.

(And if it tempted him to maybe one day set fire to his kitchen a little bit, well.)

Tony pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot, leaning casually back in his seat. 

“Maybe you should, um, check my apartment?”

It took Peter a moment to realise he was the one who’d spoken, mortified as Tony pushed down his shades to peer at him over the rims with an arched brow.

“To, uh, um…” Peter squirmed on his seat, doing his best not to think about how it was the other man’s clothes he was wearing. “Make sure it’s safe. I mean, I’ve built up a little trust. With you. Who knows if the other guys missed something?”

And what he wouldn’t give for a sinkhole to just swallow him up right then.

But to his surprise Captain Stark just peered at him for another moment, then smiled. “Sure thing, kid. The other’s’d never forgive me anyway if I let you die off in the night.”

With cheeks hot enough to sear a steak, Peter slipped out of the car and practically ran for the building, hyper aware of Tony’s presence beside him as they ascended the steps. God, he was so fucking stupid. Tony was probably going to poke around the apartment a little, open the window then skip on back home and tell his wife all about the strange kid he’d had to babysit all day.

His hands were shaking as he unlocked his door but if the man noticed he said nothing, stepping in behind him and pushing the door gently shut. Peter toed off his boots by the door and turned, watching the man roam the apartment, sniffing here and there and opening the window in the kitchenette.

“Hey, come here,” Tony’s voice called when he was plugging his phone in. Jamming the cord into the device, he bounced out of the room and slid to a halt next to Tony, who held a hand out to steady him. “Do you feel that?”

“What?” Peter asked in confusion, head tilting. 

“Sexual tension,” Tony grinned at him, winking terribly. 

“Wha-- Oh,” Peter rocked back on his heels, cheeks blazing. 

“You’re not subtle, kid. I got ribbed the whole day out over it,” Tony teased him, reaching out to ever so gently tuck one of Peter’s mahogany curls behind his ear.

“Sorry?” Peter tried, fingers curling around the cuffs of his - Tony’s - hoodie.

“I know a way you can make it up to me,” the only man purred, leaning in a little closer. And then all at once he softened, head tilting a little. “Only, of course, if you want to.”

“Aren’t you… Married?” Peter asked hesitantly, even as his heart kicked up a notch and heat gave a lazy spark between his lips. Tony’s brows shot towards his hairline.

“Not since I last checked, no,” Tony answered, sounding terribly amused. “Where did you get that thought?”

And oh, no. The last thing Peter was going to do was tell Tony he thought the man was so attractive it was feasibly impossible for him to not be taken. His ego would get so big he’d float off to space and then where would Peter be?

Instead of answering he shifted, bracing his hands on Tony’s chest and rising onto his tiptoes so he could press a chaste kiss to Tony’s mouth, the man’s stubble tickling the corner of his mouth before he pulled away, shrinking in on himself and rubbing at his lower lip.

Tony blinked down at him for a moment. Then he shifted, leaning down to wrap his hands around Peter’s thigh and hip, lifting him up with a flex of work-honed muscles. Peter clutched at his shoulders, legs automatically wrapping around Tony’s waist.

It was a new kind of novelty; to feel thick, corded muscle beneath his palms, to feel the cut of it between his thighs, to feel the scrape of stubble over his jaw and his mouth. All of Peter’s other partners had been close to his own age and relatively close in terms of build and body.

A few strides had Peter’s back pressed against the wall where he let his head fall back with a thump, mouth falling open on a whine.

“Look at you having your five minutes of bravery,” Tony teased him, shifting one leg so his thigh helped to hold Peter’s weight, fingers flexing against his skin. “What happened to the quiet little kid who burnt up anytime he looked my way?”

Peter had nothing to say, shivering through a hiccupped sound when something thick and hard rode the crease of his thigh and hip, hot between the layers of fabric that separated them. Instead of answering he pawed at the man’s shirt, desperately wanting to see the carved flesh beneath it.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want,” Tony soothed him, adjusting them both before he helped to tug on the fabric, muscles shifting and bunching as he worked it over his head and threw it off somewhere to the side.

“Oh,” Peter choked, setting his palms down on the plane of Tony’s stomach. He was beautiful; tanned skin marred with a smattering of scars that stood out pink and pale. He knew better than to focus on them but he couldn’t help running his thumb over a half-moon scar at the bottom of Tony’s pectoral.

“Emergency field incision,” Tony murmured, nipple peaking at the close touch. “Had to mesh-wall my heart.”

Peter had no words for that, either. In all the fun of the firehouse he’d almost forgotten the reality of such a dangerous job. He ran his thumb gently over it again, as if to kiss it, and tightened his legs to bring Tony into him again.

It made them press together in a delicious, warm friction, Tony’s pupils dilating further when Peter tried to stifle the noise the touch prompted. He was squeezed back into the wall as Tony leaned down, catching his mouth in a slick, gentle kiss. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony murmured against his mouth, leaning back just enough to speak, teeth scraping over his swollen lower lip.

“Hm?” Peter whimpered, trying to tilt his head to reach him again.

“You wanna see why they call me Captain Firehose?”

Peter’s lashes fluttered as he looked up, mouth dropping open for a moment of pure, unadulterated suspense.

“That was awful,” he groaned with a giggle, tickled by the cheesy line and rendered pink-cheeked by the soft, fond look at Tony fixed him with.

“Made you smile, though,” Tony purred, adjusting his hold as he ducked down to press a kiss to Peter’s cheek, lips trailing over the warm skin before he pulled back and away, muscles flexing as he held Peter up without the support of the wall.

Blushing harder, Peter wound his arms around the man’s neck. “Okay, Captain. Show me how to handle your hose,” he whispered, yelping and laughing when Tony spun them around towards the bedroom with a grin.

[meatcrimes]

so i finally finished The Frontier. here’s my final thoughts:

new vegas runs so much faster and smoother since uninstalling the frontier and all related hotfixes

i will say one positive thing about this mod and it’s the sheer variety of different items in the world. not just the guns, but the consumables, workbench & campfire recipes, combining consumables to make healing items that are on par with the wasteland omelette or fiend stew.

i know this mod was being developed before fallout 4 was released but this would have been so much better, from a technical standpoint and from a story standpoint, if this were a fallout 4 mod. if this was essentially a Where Are They Now mod that explored what the ncr/legion/bos did following the second battle of hoover dam, this would have been a better story. for example, legate valerius becoming the next Caesar after the deaths of Edward Sallow and Legate Lanius and how the changes he implemented made the legion almost unrecognizable

speaking of legion, i played the legion quest line and most of the crusaders quest line so these are all opinions from that perspective

the de-fanging of the legion was disappointing. i wanted to play with the villain faction, or at least a morally gray faction who is no better than the other choices. the legion could still be evil even with the “liberal” valerius in charge. the ending where the northern legion abolished slavery, gave women equal rights and power, and allowed modern technology was disappointing because they were clearly trying to remove a lot of what made the legion evil in the first place. a “liberal” legion that, for example, uses slavery as a punishment for crimes that you’re freed from when your sentence is up, is still evil and still villainous

or a legion that allowed women to have limited roles as priestesses, doctors and frumentaria (which i hc that the mainland legion is already doing but wtvr). that could have been what the “liberal” new caesar has done while still maintaining the legion’s misogyny

SPEAKING OF WHICH. legate valerius had an epiphany and supported women’s equality when his daughters were born which is unintentionally hilarious because that’s how a lot of real life men start caring about women’s issues

the mission where you have to kill a slaver and when you get to her you find she’s already been captured by other slavers. and how that was the end of the quest. and you lost karma for killing her or setting her free. there’s a lot to unpack here but let’s just set the whole suitcase on fire

also the indigenous coded tribe that was wiped out by an STD. yeah. not over that

and the Followers doctor who knowingly gave the courier a blood transfusion from someone with syphilis

the other followers doctor, Welick, who blamed all of his problems in life on arcade gannon

(from subtext we can gather that Arcade exposed illegal/unethical things Welick was doing and the reason everyone “had arcade fever” was just them acknowledging that Welick was wrong. and the reason he “left” the followers is that he was actually kicked out. welick is an unreliable narrator but i’m willing to bet 35 bottle caps and a wrinkly $5 NCR bill that most of the players did not pick up on that)

scrapz my beloved ❤️

seriously scrapz was the highlight of this mod. you know that post that’s like “when you know you can do a canon character better so you just steal them and make them your oc”? that’s what i wanna do with scrapz. he deserved a better mod

also… the fact that we can flirt with scrapz with a black widow check (and i think confirmed bachelor too but i am not replaying this mod in order to see) and he openly admits to being horny on main for humans (paraphrased, but honestly tell me that doesn’t sound like a real line from this mod) and yet we can’t have sex with him!??

he clearly has advanced enough AI to give him the ability to consent, since he leaves the player if you get too far in the crusaders quest line (and i assume ncr too but once again. not replaying to check). we can fuck the chem-obsessed Argonian queen. we can fuck a deathclaw. but we can’t fuck a robot despite being able to have sex with FISTO in the base game

the entire Dr Voss quest. i’m still not sure what that was. it’s just a blur of blood sewers, finding keys, and increasingly incomprehensible notes

when callidus revealed AJ was his sister and he didn’t want you to kill her but capture her and reunite them. and then i killed her anyway because it’s what she would have wanted, between death and the legion

“you prevented silus from being interrogated” x103

the weird romance-but-not between legate valerius and the courier. like he lets you sleep in his bed for a well rested bonus, his personal quest is called I Was Made For Loving You, his weird protectiveness of the courier, and of course that unintentionally erotic interrogation scene. and near the beginning i swear there was dialogue with him that was like “you were out cold for days, but I never left your side. it looked like you weren’t going to pull through, but I ordered my men to spare no expense to ensure you recovered. i tended to most of your wounds myself, working late into the night to set your broken bones and repair your torn ligaments” etc etc you get the point

the NCR commander named Tiberius Rancor who no one suspected was a legion plant

the radioactive super mutants that had a melee weapon called Kitchen Sink and it literally was a whole entire kitchen sink ripped from a building. and the courier couldn’t use it

the repair tool for the cars in the game but when you used it, it kept giving you the achievement for knocking down enemies so it was basically a source of infinite xp

the fucking space enclave. the enclave, in space. they never were defeated by the chosen one or the lone wanderer, they just fled to outer fucking space for some reason

the cannibal ice ghouls with 3500 hit points. you know what i mean. the fact that this mod was set way too far south to be seeing them, and basically did nothing accurate to the mythology at all except that they were cannibals, and didn’t even pluralize the word correctly. i understand this was probably inspired by fallout 76 but 76 should not have had those creatures either

in conclusion: i was determined to finish this mod and i’m glad i can say i did, but was it worth it? was it really worth it? no

[z3llous]

Look at Me

( Nov 10, 2020 )

Sanji x fem reader Platonic Ace x fem reader

Two. It had always been just the two of them. They only had eachother.

He was bruised and she was alone. His brothers hated him and her parents died. They were both separated from the other children.

She never felt more alone than amidst the group. Boisterous voices echoed from a distance, never truly entering her mind. The floor was far more fascinating and rather open minded compared to her peers.

A flash of gold passed her peripheral vision. She looked up to see a bandaged blond boy hiding behind the birch tree next to the swing set. She'd seen him in class before; he was always covered in some form of bandage or bruise. He was the only one, other than her, that wasn't part of the group.

It was now or never to make a friend. Small town mentality meant few moved away and those who did never left alone.

"Hi?" She said approaching the small boy cautiously.

"Um, hello." He answered avoiding her gaze.

"Would you like to sit with me at lunch? My grandma made me some cookies." She asked, offering a small bribe.

"Yes! I mean, yes please." He said lighting up with excitement immediately.

They'd unknowingly made their first and soon to be best friend that day.

---

Blue. His eye color and the hue of the bracelets she made for them. His had a sun pendant and hers had a moon.

"Sanji! I have a present for you!" Y/n yelled as she ran toward him.

"Really?!" He never got a present from anyone other than his mother, who had passed a few years ago.

"Yeah, hold out your hand for me and close your eyes ok?" She said happily.

"Ok!" He said quickly obeying.

He felt something cold and oddly shaped slide over his hand and onto his wrist.

"Open!" Y/n exclaimed.

He looked to see the ocean blue bracelet wrapped around his wrist. It was a little big, but nothing he couldn't grow into.

"I have one too!" She held out her arm for him to see.

"We match!" He said grabbing her hand to admire her work better.

"Yup! It means we'll be together forever!" She tangled her fingers with his.

"Seriously?!" His voice raised in pitch.

"Yeah, promise?" Y/n pulled him closer leaning her forehead against his.

"Promise!" He said happily flush faced as he leaned against her in return.

---

She sat across from him focusing desperately on the homework before her. It was becoming more difficult by the second to keep a neutral expression.

He wouldn't shut up about the lovely ladies in their school, especially the new red headed girl.

A new girl named Nami had moved in recently. New people were rare. Nami girl could be nice when she wanted to be, but otherwise Y/n didn't see much to like about her. She had nothing against Nami, she wasn't a horrible person, but she couldn't see what was so special about her. Nothing really stood out other than her hair. Maybe it was the hair.

Regardless, Sanji kept talking about how beautiful she was, "A radiant jewel" as he put it. It wasn't uncommon for him to go off about women, but the fact the fresh blood set him off to a whole new level.

"Nami's hair is such a beautiful shade of citrine! I simply can't imagine how one could obtain such a hue!"

"Genetics."

"I wonder what she thinks of when her mind wanders off away from the cruel clutches of reality."

"Money, probably."

"Her eyes often gaze at our lovely teacher's necklace. Does she desire such extravagance to decorate herself with?"

"Plotting how to steal it."

"She must-"

"Sanji! This is our last assignment for the year and it's due tomorrow. Focus or at least do something beside ponder Nami's existence."

"But-"

"I will steal every fork you own. Now focus on something else, please. Your tangerine obsession is distracting."

"Alright..." Finally he left the subject behind and looked to his paper.

This was just sad. He couldn't understand any of the problems.

"Y/n?"

"Yes?"

"How do I find X?"

She looked up from her final question and decided it could wait.

Getting up from her side of the table she slid beside him and began explaining.

He always smelled of whatever delicious thing he cooked that day. Today it had definitely been a pasta.

Leaning against him to see better was possibly a bad idea. She always wanted more. Being physically close wasn't rare for them, but as time passed it became difficult not to desire going a little further.

She couldn't help but slowly rest her head on his shoulder as she helped him.

---

Luffy messed up the decorations again, for the third time. Robin simply laughed it off and began again.

"Luffy, go wash off all that red paint, please." Mrs. Makino said with a smile as she walked in to see his little murder scene.

"Shi shi shi. Yes, Mrs. Makino!" Luffy quickly left to wash up with a skip in his step.

"Don't worry, Robin, I'll assign him a different project." Mrs. Makino said as she sat at her desk.

"Thank you, Mrs. Makino." Robin answered sweetly before returning to making decorations.

"Namiiii-swaaa- Oh, hello Mrs. Makino! You look lovely, can't even tell you're five months along." Sanji burst into the room.

"Thank you, Sanji. That's very kind of you. Only four to go!"

"You can do it, Mrs. Makino!" Everyone in the classroom cheered.

"Enough about me, get back to work everyone!" She laughed.

"Nami-swaaaan!"

"Sanji, I'm busy. These stars aren't going to finish themselves." She didn't look up.

"Lovely stars, only angel could create!" He dreamily spouted.

"That's nice. What do you want." Nami grumbled struggling to focus.

"Be my date for the festival!"

Y/n's head shot up, surprising Ace next to her.

"I don't know..." Nami drawled.

"Please, I'll pay!"

"Fine."

"Yes!"

Y/n slid down in her seat and gazed hazily at the ceiling.

"You alright?" Ace poked her cheek.

"Sanji and I go together every year. Now, what am I gonna do?"

The tiles above became more appealing the longer Sanji bothered Nami with date plans. This detail didn't pass by Ace.

"Why don't we go together?" He said temporarily abandoning the project.

"Yeah?" She turned to him.

"Yeah, Can't have you binge watching Fullmetal Alchemist in the dark with a tub of ice cream again." He joked.

"Aaaaw, why not? It's green mint chip and fudge this time."

"Fine, but not without me, after the festival, and you have to share."

"Deal." She shook his outstretched hand humorously.

---

Wooly clouds grazed in the chilly blue above. Her sweater was enough to shield from the cold.

"Yo! Y/n!" The distant voice of Ace running her way reached her ears.

"Hey, Ace!" She ran to meet him and they began to walk to school together.

Students, stalls, and colorful decorations filled the campus.

"Cmon, Ace! Let's get food!" She grabbed his sleeve and pointed to the food stalls.

"Alright, Alright, hungry much?"

"Always."

They laughed and ran to get in line.

---

He was holding at least  twelve bags as he tiredly trailed behind Nami. Sanji wasn't going to be able to afford basics at this rate. He might have to stay with Y/n for a bit, not that she ever minded. When he said he'd pay he didn't expect to pay with all he had.

Y/n always split the bill with him on everything. They often carried their things in a large bag and each held a handle as they walked side by side. Y/n always made the effort to make everything equal between them.

"Oh, I like your bracelet." Nami noticed the ocean colored beads.

A dull ache had begun to claw at his heart.

---

"and then he panicked and threw it at Zoro. His hair went from mossy green to shitty green."

"Oh my-*wheeze*" Ace struggled to breath and wiped away tears of laughter.

"That's not even the best part." Y/n said with a smirk.

"How?!" he sat up regaining his composure slightly.

"Picture day!" She burst out laughing.

Ace fell off the bench.

"Please, tell me you have the yearbook." He managed to say between laughs.

"I do."

They headed toward the theater room and continued to tell hilarious stories along the way.

---

Luffy and Shanks, the sex Ed teacher, were dramaticly reenacting a fighting scene on stage. Luffy's stance and acting was so awful it became a comedy.

"Why is he a main character, this is just sad." Nami was one of the few not amused with the "new" version of the play.

Sanji desperately held in his laughter to avoid her wrath. He found Shanks completely in character and Luffy dancing around moronically far too humorous.

Y/n's joyful laugh echoed throughout the room amongst the others. He wanted to join her.

---

"My brother looked like such a dumb ass prancing around like that." Ace said as they grew closer to her home.

"Yeah, but I loved it."

"Agreed."

She unlocked the door and bowed sarcastically for him.

"Oh, why thank you peasant." He said walking in.

"Hey!" Y/n stood up and playfully slapped his shoulder.

---

His sore arms were finally relieved of their burden. The last bag had been placed in Nami's car.

He'd be lying if he said it was the best festival day he'd had. It was actually at the bottom of the list.

He had little money left. She'd rung him dry. He'd have to stay at Y/n's.

He pulled out his sunflower case covered phone and texted Y/n.

---

Enthralled was the only way to describe them as they watched Edward fight on screen. Unfortunately it had to be interrupted by the buzzing of her phone.

"Something going on?" Ace paused the anime.

"Sanji's staying the night and the week too, apparently."

"Wonder what happened. He doesn't normally stay the week." He said confusedly.

"Nami probably spent all his money."

"Ooooh. That makes sense. I should call pops to pick me up. You don't have enough room for both of us staying."

"Thanks, Ace."

"No problem."

---

Shortly after she finished cleaning up a familiar car pulled into her driveway.

She open the door to an exhausted Sanji. Poor boy looked ready to collapse.

"Oh dear, Sanji, please sit down. I'll make some tea." She guided him to the couch.

He flopped down shamelessly and let himself be absorbed into its soft embrace.

"How hard did she work you?" She asked from the kitchen.

"I carried her bags all day, some were heavy even for me, and I have to carry large flour bags around all the time. I counted fifteen when I put them in her car. I paid for everything in those bags. I can barely a buy box of chicken nuggets now."

"Damn." She walked in with the tea and sat down next to him.

He took a sip and sighed. It was perfect, the right temperature, sugar, and milk. She knew him too well.

He set it down and leaned against her.

"I don't know if I can do it again." He sighed.

"Then don't." She stated wrapping an arm around him.

"Wha-" He titled his head up surprised.

"You don't have to do anything."

"But-"

"No, you are far too important to be treated so poorly. You deserve better." She began to rub his back comfortingly.

"She's the only one to actually go out with me. All the others rejected me without hesitation."

"Not all."

"Then who? I'm so lonely every morning and night waking up and falling asleep in an empty home."

"Why not m-" She noticed his empty wrist.

"What?"

She gently grasped his arm and held it up.

"Where's your bracelet? Did you lose it?" She asked in calm yet concerned tone.

"Nami kept bothering me about how much she liked it until I gave it up." He sadly sighed.

"Sanji, you can't just give in to her every whim and want." She flopped onto her side, covering her face. Y/n didn't want him to see how upset she was.

"I'll get it back." He reached out to brush her hands away from her face.

"I gave it to you as a pledge that we'd be together forever." She whispered beginning to sob.

Y/n rolled onto her back and curled up in a ball.

"I'm so sorry. Y/n, please look at me. I'll get it back, promise." He pleaded.

"Promise?" She sniffled peeking out.

"I promise." He held out his pinky.

She laughed a bit and wiped some tears away before intertwining her finger with his.

"Now, that's settled. I could've sworn you were going to say something." He thought aloud.

"No!" Heat began to rise from within her.

"It was something like, 'why not m-', what's that supposed to mean. Why not what?" Curiosity dripped from every word and pooled onto the wooden floor.

"It's nothing." Y/n tried avoiding it. She couldn't look at him. It would give her away.

"You never mean nothing. What-" It clicked and his eyes widened with excitement.

She meant to say "Why not me?". She loves him. SHE LOVES HIM. She'd never rejected him in anyway. He'd jokingly flirt with her from time to time and she never turned him down. How had he not noticed. Such a dream seemed too far out of his reach to even consider.

"Y/n, why didn't you say so~"

Sanji's sudden elation and playfulness made something plummet from within. Had he figured it out?

"Say what?" She hoped she was wrong. Her heart trembled.

"You love me!~" He plopped onto her and nuzzled affectionately into her stomach. He made sure to entangled her in his grasp.

"Aaah, nooooo! You weren't supposed to guess it." The temperature rose to an unbearable level.

"My Y/n-Chwaan loves me!~" He chanted tightening his grip and burying face further into the folds of her shirt.

"I love you too." He stated looking up to her vermilion flustered expression.

"Yeah, yeah, love you." She looked away unable bear the cuteness of his puppy eye and started petting him.

Y/n was fawned over and teased relentlessly all night. She couldn't escape his endless adoration.

[weasleytentia]

I’ll meet you there

 ↳ I’ll meet you there, Fred Weasley

fred weasley x fem!gryffindor!reader

summary: after the disaster at Bill and Fleur’s wedding you and Fred share one of the last tranquil moments together before the Battle of Hogwarts.

warnings: slight mentions of sex between consensual adults, almost non-existent, mentions of blood, violence, death and lots of angst. some fluff at the beginning tho <3<3

comments are very much appreciated!!

a/n: i cried writing this so i really hope u like this. i spent more than five hours working on this even tho i’m not satisfied at all. please lemme know if u like this, i may have changed some things in the story since i got pretty carried away haha. xx

Your fingertips traced circles of various sizes on his chest and you could still feel his fastened heartbeat through that touch, the love marks you had left on his skin were still of a very intense purple. His left arm was holding you closer to him while the other was calmly and tenderly caressing your hair, your messy locks were spread across the pillow. 

“What will be of us, Freddie, in a few years?” You hummed with a raspy voice while the first rays of the sun made their way through the curtains, and you could feel their timid warmness on your bare skin. “What will be of all of us?”

A few days had passed since Bill and Fleur’s wedding and since the Ministry of Magic had fallen. You had yet to recover from that night, Ron, Harry and Hermione had disappeared leaving you with nothing but worries, and the scars that event had left in your heart would probably never go away. Things weren’t surely going too well in the Wizarding World - well, actually - you couldn’t even force yourself to remember those days in which you had no worries at all: the only thought of you, an eleven-years-old girl, entering the gates of Hogwarts for the first time almost made you want to go back and live your first year forever. 

That year you had met Fred and George Weasley, a very odd couple of twins - you had thought - but since that day in the Gryffindor Common Room you became inseparable: there was no Fred and George Weasley without Y/N Y/L/N. You weren’t actually the type to pull pranks on other students nor the one to misbehave, in fact, you were quite a bookworm and had an obsession regarding Hogwarts’ rules - nevertheless - you still were their best accomplice. One time the twins had tried one of their infamous candies on a younger student and he had to immediately go to the toilet: needless to say, professor McGonagall had questioned Fred and George and before you could even say “Quidditch” you were in detention. “I can’t believe that I got in trouble with you guys.” you had hissed while writing the one-hundreth sorry on a paper. “The truth is that you just missed us too much.”

“I think we will be just fine, darling.” Fred murmured with a relaxed tone in his voice, never stopping to play with your hair. You knew he just said that to calm you down and to not cause you more stress, but how could you ever believe him? 

Your chin raised up just a little so that you could see the expression on his face, and you contemplated the man that had accompanied you for so many years, never leaving your side. His thin lips were still reddish and almost plumper, recalling the sweet night you had passed together, and his eyes were closed as if he had nothing to worry about, as if in the whole world there was no one but the two of you. His way of being impassive to difficult situations wasn’t really odd to you since he rarely showed any kind of concern, but there were times in which you had witnessed an unknown part of Fred: during your third year at Hogwarts you got seriously injured during one of your Quidditch matches, falling from your broom and hitting your head. You were asleep for a couple of days and when you woke up in the middle of the night, you were utterly surprised at noticing a sleeping Fred right beside you, barely fitting in the chair Madame Pomfrey had given him. As soon as your hand touched his thigh he opened his eyes wide, immediately reaching for your hand, and you almost remember seeing a different glimpse in his eyes as if he had cried, That night, you shared your first timid kiss and since that cool spring night, he never left your side.

“I don’t know, Freddie,” you slightly got up sitting on the bed that was never meant for two and turned your head to look at him. “Your brother has just gone poof” and you gestured that with your hands, “What if the-they are gone? What if they found them and, and we just don’t…”

“Love,” The redhead quickly got up too and came closer to your face. “They are not a bunch of idiots and they surely know how to protect themselves.” He took one of your locks and put it behind your ear, “What about us?” you asked, your eyes searching for a source of reassurance in his. “O-Our family, our friends…”

He parted your lips but your heart was burdened of so much weight that you didn’t let him speak, quickly talking before he could. “The battle is imminent, Freddie, we cannot pretend that everything is going to be fine,” Your eyes were now watery as his never stopped staring into yours, not even a glimpse of sadness or worry. “It’s just a matter of time and I don’t want to risk it.” You breathed out, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Fred was quick to wipe your tears away with his thumbs as he took your face into his palms, lightly kissing the tip of your nose as he always did when you were about to cry, which - in some way - calmed you a bit. As the warmness of his hands left your cheeks you felt the soft material of the blanket on your shoulders, which made a light smile appear on your lips. 

“You’re so beautiful when you smile,” he hummed, “that’s what makes me go through this shit, your smile Y/N, I never want you to stop smiling, alright? ‘Cause your smile it’s my only source of happiness now.”

“What if…”

“You won’t lose me, love, I promise you that.” Fred got up and picked up his shirt from the floor. “I’ll always stay by my pretty girl’s side, alright?”

From the first time in a few days you found yourself to smile sincerely.

You opened your arms demanding one of his tight and endless hugs, and as you snuggled more into his chest you closed your eyes, cradled by the same perfume you had smelled in your Amortentia during your fifth year: fireworks, candies and the familiar scent of the Burrow.

                                                         ∘◦❀◦∘

“Expelliarmus!”

Your right leg incredibly hurt as you limped into the cold and oddly emptied hallways, a few witches and wizards still battling against each other, throwing colourful spells from their wands that made the place look like a show of fireworks. Your leg had been cut by a spell casted by a Death Eater and was now bleeding uncontrollably, the aching pain made you bite your lip.

You couldn’t recognize which of the many hallways you were crossing which was odd since you had walked those very steps during your seven years there, but everything was chaotic and... different.

In fact, Hogwarts wasn’t the same place anymore: some of the walls had fallen down and the candles that once lit up the school were now extinguished, the same place in which you saw yourself and your friends grow up, full of happiness and friendship, was now a gloomy and cold grave. Although the thought of encountering another Death Eater made shivers run through your spine your main concern was not finding Fred anywhere, since you both parted ways just right after the beginning of the battle. 

“Stay with dad, you got me?”

Fred’s eyes looked at Arthur, his father, who was standing just a few meters away from you while the two of you had found a corner apart from everyone else. You had felt the urge to embrace him, squeezing the fabric of his coat. 

“Why?” you cried into his chest, “why can’t we stick together?”

“Y/N, love” he tenderly cupped your cheeks with his steady hands looking at you with the same Love with which he had looked at you during your first Yule Ball together. “I have to stick with Georgie, he needs me.”

You closed your eyes biting your lower lip.

“Dad will protect you, alright, darling?”

You nodded in response unable to utter a single word.

Chaos started to fill the room as Voldemort’s army broke the protection spell but you never stopped looking at Fred, still searching for that reassurance.

For the first time his eyes weren’t sparkly but had a glimpse of uncertainty and fear.

 “I’ll find you.” you murmured, “At the Great Hall.”

“I’ll meet you there.” You could feel the tension build between the two of you and in a matter of seconds, your lips crashed together, as he held you close to him as if he wished to do anything but to let you go. That kiss didn’t last long since, one moment Fred was standing right in front of you and after a few seconds you had lost him along with Arthur.

You were all on your own.

“Y/N.”

You heard a feminine voice that made you immediately turn around the corner, finding one of your close friends, Luna Lovegood, standing there. You instantly couldn’t think of anything else but to hug her tightly, her being the only familiar face you had seen in a while. You couldn’t say that you seriously understood Luna and her ramblings about weird Magical Creatures, but her personality and her immense loyalty to you had made you love her a lot. After breaking the hug you noticed a cut on her cheek and you sighed in relief. 

“I’m so glad that you’re alive.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “Have you seen Harry?”

“No, I haven’t seen him at all, have you seen Fred?”

Luna looked at the ceiling as if she was thinking very hard to remember what she had seen, given that many things were happening at the same time.

All of a sudden, your head started to spin as you heard a hissing voice coming from an unknown location: then, you realised to whom that voice belonged. 

The words were very clear, the battle was now over and all of Voldemort’s minions had retreated. You glanced toward Luna who put her wand down and your brief moment of happines was soon replaced by a strange feeling.

“Luna, please tell me if you have seen him.” “I reckon he was with his brother, George.”

She then lowered her gaze to your bleeding leg as she started asking question on how you wounded yourself, but her presence was now minor, you had to figure out where your boyfriend was. Your brain was trying to work out a few places in which he could find him and suddenly, it hit her.

“The Great Hall.”

You murmured to yourself more than to Luna and quickly nodded a thank you to her before sprinting away toward the place in which you had spent most of your days. As you ran - trying to ignore the aching pain your body was in - all of the past years spent by his side started to resurface in your mind: the long walks toward Hogsmeade holding hands like little kids and the multiple butterbeers you would drink in just one evening, the various nights where you snuck out of your dorms and explored the castle using the Marauder’s Map, the hours of detention spent together cuddling and giggling at his jokes about Snape’s nose. The kisses he gave you everytime you won at Quidditch shouting to everyone in the Common Room: “That’s my girl!”

As soon as you crossed the immense doors of the Great Hall all of your thoughts vanished like dust in the wind. The first person you saw was Ron and you smiled widely limping toward him, but there was no smile, only a simpathetic sad expression. You felt a strange sensation at the tip of your stomach as something didn’t feel quite right.

“Ron.” You mumbled with a dry mouth. “Where’s everyone?”

Ron didn’t answer, instead, he just lowered his gaze and took a few steps to his right, revealing a scene you had only thought of in the worst of your nightmares. George was standing still, looking at you with tears streaming down his face, sobbing uncontrollably. His eyes were now void as if he had been deprived of his own soul. Molly was kneeling down just like Arthur and Percy, while Ginny was crying in Harry’s arms, and as you stood there all of their eyes were on you. 

Every step you took was like being stabbed in the heart, each time by a much sharper knife. You started to feel your legs go numb and you didn’t even feel the pain of the wound anymore, because the pain irradiating into your chest was much more stronger. You fell to your knees, arms immediately reaching for the fabric of his clothes, squeezing them tight making your knuckles become white, and you contemplated his face.

“Fred,” you whispered as your tears fell on his shirt, “Freddie please, please, wake up.”

His once brown eyes were now closed, his face was covered in ashes and seemed to be paler. He looked as beautiful as the last time you had seen him, but when you sweetly brought your hand to his check, you found it cold to the touch. “What happened, Molly?” It came out as an odd murmur, your brain still not processing what you were seeing, “Did he, d-did he hit his head? We should-, we probably should bring him to a muggle hospital.”

The woman couldn’t stop herself from crying as she reached for the top of your head, caressing your hair. “Oh, Y/N, dear...”

“Fred?”

You asked once again and checked for a movement, a wink, anything. 

Maybe he was just faking it to scare everyone and then, when no one saw it coming, he would stand up on his feet at laugh at all of you for believing such a stupid thing. Fred Weasley couldn’t have died like that.

The more you looked, the more his chest didn’t move an inch, but as you desperately searched for any sign you noticed his lips curled into a small yet visible smile, and then you realized.

He was gone.

Fred Weasley was gone and had left you in just a couple of hours. 

The one person who had never judged you, the one person who had planned a forever with you, had just left you and there was nothing you could do about it. 

Fred Weasley was dead.

The screams of agony were almost muffled by all of the voices into that crowded place and by George’s embrace. As he held you tight the both of you cried the unjust and unexplained death of a brother, a partner in crime, a lover.

Even in death Fred Weasley had left you with one of the best gifts you could have ever asked for and that had made all of your days bright... his smile.

[i-watch-too-many-movies]

5 Favorite First Viewings of July 2021

Quick note: Hi everyone, I'm back, things have honestly been getting better for me, and I'm glad to be on this site full of cinephiles, people that are too horny, and cinephiles that are too horny. I'll be more active on here. But anyway, let's talk about some movies.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970) (dir. Russ Meyer)

CW: Abortion mention

What a picture. What a gorgeous, sexy, horrifying slice of what Hollywood and star life can do to a bunch of bright-eyed young people looking for success. Also is a critique of how macho nature can ruin friendships and romantic relationships with total ease. I was obsessed with the scene transitions, like Pet pouring pancake mix onto a plate after the abortion scene, or Kelly singing after someone screams before their murder in the opening scene.

Great, campy flick with exceptional music too.

Deep Cover (1992) (dir. Bill Duke)

Laurence Fishburne plays Russell Stevens, a Cincinnati police officer who hopes to do well by the community, to make a difference. He’s traumatized by the death of his substance-abusing father, and wants to make sure that he can help the people of his own town. He goes undercover on assignment as a drug dealer, where his boss orders him to take down the kingpin. Stevens realizes the police’s own failings while on assignment. The racist abuse he takes from Agent Carver, and the realization that the police department is protecting drug kingpins like Gallegos and Barbossa. Giving drugs to Black kids and Latinx kids so there will be less of them. The cops are no different than the drug kingpins looking to make filthy amounts of money.

Fishburne’s performance is excellent, as Stevens feels he has to maintain a stone face so he doesn’t get caught by Jason or Barbossa or any of his cronies, but also he maintains a stone face to try and hide his emotion, his trauma. But when he gets pissed, Fishburne acts it beautifully, as is when he has to deliver a funny quip to counter Jason’s douchebaggery. And the production design, holy fuck, the sets and the lighting.

A perfect neo-noir for the HW Bush years, arguably one of the most timeless commentaries on the era, as well as the police as a whole.

Fast Five (2011) (dir. Justin Lin)

I was torn between including this or Furious 7, but I ultimately went with Fast Five because it felt like an important turning point in the series, it's a great heist film, and it reached the same chaotic highs and genuinely excellent filmmaking that I had been waiting for since 2 Fast and Tokyo Drift.

Fast Five opens where Fast & 4ious left off. Dom is hauled away to prison on a bus. Mia and Brian drive in their high-tech cars and knock the bus over, helping Dom escape. The title drops. Fast Five. It’s such an intense yet short action scene, and dropping the title immediately after it lets the viewer know that this movie is not fucking around. It’s arguably gonna be more intense and insane than the previous one.

And it is. The filmmakers made the decision to use a lot more practical stunt work for the film, and as a result, it leads to, so far, the best action in the entire series, since 2 Fast and Tokyo Drift. It’s not just how it’s shot or edited, it’s the geography of the locations, the rooftop chase echoes the rooftop chase of Jackie Chan’s masterwork Police Story, particularly the way each character bounces from top to top.

And of course, there’s the silliest moment in the movie, the one that matches the intensity and kineticism of a film like 2 Fast, which is driving the Reyes’ bank vault throughout the street, getting chased by corrupt cops.

I know we make fun of Vin Diesel for saying “family” all the time in these films, but there’s a reason we remember him saying all of these impassioned monologues. Because he’s unbelievably sincere, and has so much love in his heart for every single person in the room. Anytime he delivers a speech to any of them, it’s genuinely heartwarming.

This is the film that finally shows La Familia in their best environment, which is working together, in a movie genre that allows them to work together, which is a heist film. And a great one at that.

Last Days (2005) (dir. Gus Van Sant)

CW: Mention of suicide

Several films have been made about legendary rock artist Kurt Cobain, and for good reason. He is one of the most tragic figures in rock and roll. A tortured genius who has written and performed classic song after classic song with his band Nirvana. He was called the voice of a generation, and helped change the face of mainstream alternative rock music as we know it. But with that fame, and all of those expectations came a worsening depression and further drug abuse, and his eventual death. But most of the films about Kurt Cobain ask one question which gets under my skin way too much:

“Who REEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLY killed Kurt Cobain?”

It was him. He did. And it’s okay, I’m sad too. Thinking that Kurt Cobain was murdered is completely ignoring the depression that he faced. And despite Last Days being more inspired by the death of Cobain rather than actually about it, it feels much more honest than the conspiracy documentaries on his death, wanting to leech off of his dead body.

This is the last installment of Gus Van Sant’s “Death Trilogy”, the previous two installments being Gerry (2001), and Elephant (2003). While I have not seen Gerry, I have seen Elephant though, and love that film for its minimalist, raw nature, and its boldness for not romanticizing the school shooter or the lives they had taken. Last Days falls into that trap once, as I don’t agree with the shot of Blake’s soul climbing up a ladder, that always struck me as cheesy in a film that is anything but.

Last Days is similar to Elephant in terms of the way it is filmed. Its usage of long takes, and still shots of characters doing various things, such as Blake playing his guitar behind a drum set. The way these moments are shot is similar to a Chantal Akerman film, particularly Jeanne Dielman. Where the acts of the mundane are the stars of the film. Blake wanders around an empty house, and the viewer can feel the pain, not just through Michael Pitt’s acting, but from the house itself. Its decay, its paint peeling from the walls, from the soft glow of the lamp that lights his face.

I say this is the most honest film about Kurt Cobain, because, despite the characters technically being fictional (the main character who looks, walks, and acts like Cobain is named Blake), this film focuses on the mental state of a person before they eventually take their own life. They’re still working, still making music, still trying to talk to friends and bandmates, but the depression lingers on. Not once does this film try to make you believe that someone else killed him, because you can see the signs of his own suicide taking place just through the film’s excellent cinematography by Harris Savides, showing his mental state only growing worse through the production design.

And it’s empathetic with him. There’s no judgement for leaving rehab, there’s no finger-wagging at him or the people he was with, there’s just a silent prayer at the end of the film, hoping that he is in a better place than he was.

Sometimes you don’t need to show every event that led you to where you are, all you can show is the moment, which also makes this better than most biopics as well, as it never feels messy or muddled, just showing one moment of Blake/Kurt’s life.

I really loved this film, and I’ll be writing about it in full soon.

The Village (2004) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan)

The Cracked.com/Channel Awesome audience stuck in 2012 will tell you that this was the beginning of the end for Shyamalan. That this was when people stopped taking him seriously, that this was when he became more of a punchline because of his twist endings.

But why?

The Village was released in 2004, deep in the Bush administration, during the early stages of the Iraq War. The leaders of the time were talking about imaginary boogeymen, terrorists that would attack the civilians if they could. Because of 9/11, politicians could get away with these false ideas with the majority of Americans fully believing them. The boogeymen in The Village are “The People We Don’t Speak Of”, monsters attracted by the color red. Yet we find out that they are all costumes made by the Elders of the land, designed to prevent people from going outside the land. They rule by fear disguised as love. They’ve gone through their own traumas through the deaths of their family members, but they’ve decided to completely abandon the lives that they’ve had and have their children living lies.

9/11 impacted American life by teaching citizens to live primarily by fear, to not trust anyone but their own people. And yet, post-9/11, all that increased was not “coming together”, but hate crimes against South Asian people. The rage white Americans had felt led to conservative politicians pushing fear-mongering agendas, and said white Americans blindly accepted. The outside world was progressing, but too many people were fine with living with further conservative politics only regressing American life further and further back, all for the illusion of safety. Meanwhile, the only threats to them were not the brown citizens outside of America they were so afraid of, but the white elders, the white politicians.

The Village explores these fears so eloquently, all while having a terrifying atmosphere, an enchanting score, and brilliant sound design. I enjoyed this movie very much.

Other viewings I enjoyed:

Beavis and Butt-Head Do America (1996) (dir. Mike Judge) (re-watch)

Blow Out (1981) (dir. Brian de Palma) (re-watch)

Clueless (1995) (dir. Amy Heckerling) (re-watch)

Furious 7 (2015) (dir. James Wan)

The Long Goodbye (1973) (dir. Robert Altman)

Lupin III: The First (2019) (dir. Takashi Yamazaki)

Unbreakable (2000) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan) (re-watch)

Velvet Goldmine (1998) (dir. Todd Haynes)

The Visit (2015) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan)

[zigtheeortega]

if we meet again

[part one of the again series]

pairing | bryce x mc

word count | 10k

warnings | mentions of sex, innuendos, drinking.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @dakotawinchester, @writinghereandthere, @pixelsandkink, @masquerade-reimagined, @choicesarehard, @nerdferatum, @bobbymckenzie, @agentdumortain, @bryceslahela, @lahellacute, @violinet, @zigsnose, @adamdusmortain, @drsobemoji, @choeries, @houserosario, @plasticdodecagon, @noimarocketman (tagged sideblogs instead of main blogs!)

author’s note | so i recently finished the before trilogy of films, and i really wanted to write something based off of it but in a way that would better encapsulate bryce and my mc spencer! part one consists of years 1 - 4, taking place through their undergrad years at university. this is gonna be a bit of a journey so buckle up! 

read on ao3! [disclaimer: ao3 version has smut included, not separate.]

•─────────────────•

year one

The ride from the airport to her parents’ home was long and grueling, the slushy ice pelting the windshield barely passing for snow.

It was practically sub-zero outside, a stark difference between the mid seventies weather she’d just left.

Boarding a plane wearing a tank top and layering as she stepped off was a weird experience to say the least. It was like stepping into another world.

The cookie cutter suburbs were nauseatingly bland. Was this really what her parents wanted?

Sure, they were the typical awestruck immigrant family who were obsessed with the American experience, but to be wholly consumed by it? God she never wanted a roundtrip date to come so fast in her life.

They’d closed on the house faster than she could complain about it, but she couldn’t have done much anyways. They’d packed the house up right before she left for her freshman year of college, so the decision didn’t affect her too much.

The slush came down harder, sounding nearly like hail on the roof of her taxi.

She glanced down at her dirty tennis shoes and grimaced – she dreaded having to lug her suitcase from the taxi to her front door.

When it screeched to a stop, she handed the driver a couple bills (leaving a hefty tip, because hey, it was the holidays) and retrieved her things from the trunk.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, suitcase gripped in her right hand, she braced the freezing wet rain.

The walk from the mailbox to the front door was way longer than she remembered. About halfway up the short stairs, she made a crucial mistake. The ball of her foot caught a patch of ice and she tumbled to the ground.

“Ah, fuck,” she grumbled, twisting her body so she was sitting on the stairs. The rain seeped through her jeans, freezing her ass and thighs.

“Hey, miss, you okay?” A voice called from across the lawn.

Her loose hoodie obstructed her vision, so she couldn’t see the man, but she heard his shoes squelch across the grass as he jogged towards her.

“Here, lemme take that,” he said, grabbing her backpack and suitcase before helping her up with his free hand.

She tossed her hood back to catch a glimpse of the kind stranger, and her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the handsome boy in front of her.

A single dimple appeared on one of his flushed cheeks as he flashed a grin at her, his hair damp from the falling rain. “You good?” He asked again, brown eyes searching hers.

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for coming to help me up,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I’ll help you to the front door. This is your house, right? I’m not aiding and abetting a burglar?” He teased, turning to walk towards her door.

“No, no. My parents live here,” she said, pointing at the house.

“And you don’t?”

“Technically yeah, in between semesters,” she said, shrugging. “Just took my last final this morning.”

“Oh, cool, me too. I made it in a couple hours ago,” he said, gesturing to the house to the left of theirs.

“So, our parents are neighbors?”

He grinned. “You sound disappointed.”

She shook her head, shoving her hands in her pockets. “No, it’s nice to know someone my age around here. They moved into this house right as I was moving into my dorm, so I didn’t get a chance to get to know anyone.”

“I guarantee my parents were the one to sell you this house,” he said, handing her the backpack and rolling her the suitcase.

“Your parents are realtors? That’s cool,” she said, nodding. “They must be great at their jobs if they convinced them to buy the house so fast.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges, his irresistible dimple popping up again. “I don’t know shit about the housing market, stranger.”

She couldn’t hold her giggle back. His laugh was infectious. “I’m the stranger? You ran up to me first.”

“Yeah, but I landed first, so I deem you the stranger,” he said, gently poking her arm. “So, stranger, do you have a name?”

“Spencer Matsuzaki,” she said, holding a hand out, half of her palm covered with the damp wrist of her hoodie.

“Bryce Lahela. Nice to meet you, stranger.”

––––

The first night home wasn’t terrible. She was practically interrogated, though.

She zoned out, slipping into the same routine she always did when she was bombarded with questions about school.

She had to stay neutral and cordial while explaining aspects of her life in grave detail on top of leaving out tons of information for her parents' health. Her parents would go into cardiac arrest if they knew how much she’d drank that semester.

After dinner, she retreated into her room for the night, grimacing at the catalogue-esque decor. Her parents really leaned into the middle class american aesthetic, and she wasn’t fond of it.

She missed living in the city. Their apartment overlooked her favorite movie theater, favorite coffee shop, and the playground of her old elementary school a couple streets over.

She missed being within walking distance of places that harbored her favorite memories. And from her new window, her view was nothing more than the house across the street and a few scattered bare trees.

The only thing she enjoyed about her new house was the balcony in front of her window, just large enough for her to sit comfortably with another person. Not like that was happening anytime soon, though.

She tugged the blanket around her shoulders, trying to fight off the biting cold. She tightened the drawstrings of her hoodie, shielding her headphones from the wind so she could hear her music clearly.

Her thoughts wandered to the boy next door.

Bryce Lahela. Beautiful face, beautiful name.

She couldn’t really put a finger on it, but something about him was so familiar. Like she’d known him for lifetimes already.

God, she admired people with that quality – being able to make someone so comfortable the minute you meet them that they just slip into whatever void you’d needed filling.

Potentially a dangerous quality, but Spencer didn’t let herself think about that possibility.

The snow had let up, the freezing temperature preserving what’d already fallen. She allowed herself a glance over at the Lahela residence, half hoping she’d find him outside.

Thankfully enough, he was exiting the front door with a wide shovel in hand, bundled up properly, unlike when they’d met a couple hours before.

She watched him as he easily shoveled the muddy sludge off of the walkways. It was just quiet enough that she could hear his soft grunts with effort at the initial plunge of the shovel into the snow.

She didn’t mean to stare. But what else was there to watch? The road was quiet, bare, like a car passing by too loudly would break the suburbian immersion.

After he’d shoveled the first pathway leading up to the house, he moved to the driveway – not before he ripped the beanie off of his head, shaking out his golden strands.

She watched unabashedly, trying to figure out how the hell a gorgeous surfer bro straight out of a Hollister ad was living next door.

He squinted in her general direction, throwing up a gloved hand to cover his eyes. A grin spread quickly, and he tossed the shovel to the ground with the other hand, using it to wave.

“Hey, stranger!” He called.

She ducked down, trying to hide her blushing cheeks as his laugh rang out, disrupting the silence.

–––

Ten pages from the end of her crime novel, right before they revealed the killer, a heavy handed knock caused Spencer to jolt nearly a foot into the air from her sitting position on the couch.

She picked up the book that morning, trying to do something productive that’d double as an excuse to get out of conversing with her parents. Eight hours later, give or take, and they’d barely bugged her for meals, let alone awkward small talk.

Shuffling to the door in her pajama pants, she yawned as she yanked the door open, expecting to see a mailman or something of that nature.

Bryce stood there instead, flirty smile and all, dimple pronounced like the cherry on top of his overwhelming attractiveness.

“Am I boring you already? Sheesh,” he teased, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She cut her yawn off, squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry, I –” She cut herself off with yet another yawn, shaking her head. “Uh, sorry. I know that was probably super ugly.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was cute.”

She tugged her arms around herself, the tank top doing virtually nothing to shield her from the cold. “So… What’s up?”

He grinned, digging in his pocket. “I’m glad you asked.”

He whipped out two tickets, handing them to her. “Light show. You and me. Now.”

“Now?” She asked, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

“Yeah, now. What about it?”

She gestured to her outfit. “I’m not dressed.”

“So? Get dressed,” he shrugged again.

She rolled her eyes. “You really think my parents will let me out this late? I came back to a curfew, you know.”

“Oh. We can work around that.”

“How?” She was genuinely baffled by this guy’s confidence.

“Sneak out.”

“Did you… Did you just skip over the part where I hinted at how strict my parents are?”

He shrugged, again. “Worst case scenario, they ground you for the rest of the break. Then you go back to college in a couple weeks, and they can’t boss you around there, so what are you really risking?”

She chewed her lip, contemplating. “I mean, I can’t argue with you on that one.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Yeah. You’re lucky my parents aren’t home right now,” she said, jabbing an accusatory finger at him.

“Like they could resist this face.”

––––

Downtown – or what she presumed was downtown – was overtaken by lights, the edges of the area blocked off, vendors lined up in parking spaces, nets of overhead lights illuminating the huge displays below.

They’d been walking in silence for a while, just soaking it in and basking in the holiday spirit.

Despite her disdain for the town, Spencer loved the way they celebrated the holidays.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Bryce said a bit suddenly, running off before she had a chance to respond.

“Oh… kay,” Spencer murmured, watching him disappear into the crowd. She tugged at her beanie, raking shaky fingers through her hair.

Bryce was… unwavering. He had such a strong personality and a knack for flirting without meaning to.

To put it in its simplest terms, he made her nervous. Really nervous.

It was like the minute he left her immersion was broken and she realized just how hot he was and that she should be nervous.

Her eyes wandered, trying to alleviate some of her apprehension. She hadn’t been to a community-unifying event like that one before, so watching the families and children prance through the snow was enough to fulfill the soft spot in her heart only classic Christmas movies could fill.

“Here,” Bryce huffed from behind her, breaking her concentration.

She turned at the sound of his voice, flinching when she realized how close he was to her, disposable coffee cup in hand, steam slithering out of the small hole in the lid.

“What’s that?”

“Hot chocolate. I figured you’d want something to warm you up,” he smiled, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she said graciously, taking the cup from his hands, warming both by the way their fingers brushed each others’ and the heat from the drink. “Thank you.”

“Ah, no need to thank me. It’s the least I could do after dragging you out here,” he said a bit sheepishly, kicking the toe of his boot into the snow.

“You didn’t drag me out anywhere. You were convincing,” she laughed, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate, revelling in the way it warmed her from the inside out. “Maybe a bit too convincing.”

“I don’t need to know how powerful I am or I’ll let it go to my head,” he winked. “How is it?”

“Delicious.”

He nodded. “Perfect.”

She sipped on her drink in silence for a while, racking her brain to come up with conversation topics.

They’d really only spoken in passing, so what the fuck were they supposed to talk about?

“So… you want to ride the train?” He asked, pointing at the train riding through the town square.

Within minutes they were seated on the train in the caboose – the very last seat. Families were spread out through the first couple cars, then onto couples.

They probably didn’t want toddlers watching high school aged kids swapping spit, so they sent them to the back.

That notion made Spencer nervous. Was she on a date? He hadn’t really specified – hell, he was barely giving her details about where they were going before dragging her out of her house.

The train began to move, slowly riding through the square, the families in the front chatting and the children giggling and waving at the passing patrons.

She chatted with Bryce about nothing in particular, just kind of getting to know each other. She found out he loved baseball, hated night classes, and was a huge fan of pineapple – he could smell it in her shampoo.

She’d just begun to relax before noticing the young couple in front of her lean in for a kiss that turned a bit heated. Her hands were clasped in her lap to keep them from trembling, her breath just as shaky.

A warm arm grazed her shoulders, his arm resting on the top of the seat. There wasn’t any pressure for her to do anything with him. But she kind of wanted to.

She mustered up the courage to flick her gaze in his direction, settling on his soft, pleasant smile, seemingly permanent on Bryce’s features.

“Is this a date?” She blurted, cursing herself immediately.

He didn’t seem phased.

“If you want it to be.”

She definitely did.

––––

The walk to her front door was long, even longer than when she was on her own lugging her belongings through the icy slush.

“I had a really nice time, Bryce,” she said, ambling up the last couple steps.

“Me, too. I’m glad I bought an extra ticket yesterday,” he grinned.

She raised a brow at him, prompting him to continue.

“After I helped you inside I immediately left to go get tickets,” he said bashfully. His cheeks were flushed – from the cold or the admission, she had no idea.

“So you’d had this date planned for a whole day?” She asked, a bit taken aback. He’d definitely painted it out to be a spur of the moment thing, no premeditation in sight.

“So it was a date,” he teased, dimple even more prominent as he spoke.

She scrunched her lips to the side to hide her own smile. “Yeah, I think it was.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She made the grave mistake of breaking eye contact, her gaze darting from his mouth back to his eyes. He closed the gap between them in one step.

“I can’t kiss you in front of my house. My parents could see,” she whispered as his gloved hand flicked her messy strands away from her cheeks.

“You wanna save this for another time?” Her heart couldn’t help but race at his playful tone.

She nodded.

“How long are you gonna be here for break?” He asked. “I wanna see you again.”

“I’ll be here through the week.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled her into a hug, warm and enveloping despite the cold. “Goodnight, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

She was so comfortable, so safe in his grip that when she felt him loosen it, she squeezed him tighter without really meaning to.

It was scary how quickly she’d grown attached to a complete stranger.

“‘Night,” she waved, eyes still trained on him as she closed the door.

––––

It took her way too long to fall asleep that night.

His last question and her agreeance to the terms ran through her head on loop.

She was anticipating what he was going to do next. Excited to see how the rest of her break would look like.

After a restless night, she awoke pretty early, lounging around in bed for way too long, aimlessly scrolling through social media.

A day ago, she’d have been jealous of her friends vacationing at the beach, but… she wasn’t as upset at the idea of being home for break.

She stood up, stretching and popping her limbs, grabbing a hoodie from her luggage to throw on.

As she did, something caught her attention, just at the edge of her peripheral – a folded slip of paper in her window sill.

She grabbed it, unravelling the damp paper, trying to decipher the bleeding ink.

“Had to leave earlier than I thought. Sorry. Not sure when I’ll see you again, so here’s my number.”

The paper had been covered in water for a long while, so long that the number at the bottom was smudged, the hardest to read out of the whole message. She could barely make out the area code, let alone the rest of it.

She crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, deciding she could just head over and ask his parents for his number instead if he’d left for school.

After trudging across the lawn through the snow, she noticed something was a bit off, but decided to push the feeling down and ring the doorbell.

She peered through the glass of their front door, realizing that the lights were off, clothes and boxes and bags strewn across the foyer.

No one was home.

––––

year two

The moment the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her house, her eyes searched the front lawn of the house next door.

The familiar sensation of disappointment lingered, despite her constant chastising to not get her hopes up.

She sat on her balcony for a couple hours a day, the space heater on full blast at her feet, trying not to look desperate as her eyes flickered to and from Bryce’s house.

But no one entered or exited the house all break.

––––

year three

He stared down the bottom of the glass, eyes trained on the milky film the eggnog left behind, the spiced rum shots he’d taken warming his limbs.

The trial had been grueling.

No one could’ve prepared him for the way the legal system chewed him up and spat him out each time he entered the courtroom and sat on the opposite side of the room, avoiding his parents’ cold glares.

He shouldn’t have had to testify against them in the first place, but who else were they going to call to the stand? Keiki? She could barely write her own name, let alone understand her rights.

And she shouldn’t have to see her parents – hell, her whole family – being scrutinized and ripped apart, televised for anyone within a thousand mile radius.

He didn’t know that this town was their escape.

If someone would’ve told him two years ago that his first Christmas in college would’ve left him in shambles, his entire world upturned, he wouldn’t have believed them.

Thank god it was one of the only properties they owned that was untouched by their blood money.

Word had spread to his university students, causing him to have to go into hiding. Did all his work from home, got special permission from the chancellor to move his courses online.

He was forced to stay in Hawaii, juggling court and school on top of the press and the general stress of life – he’d been on autopilot since his parents woke him up in the middle of the night to fly back home.

The moment he finished his finals that semester, he boarded the plane without a second thought.

He needed an escape. 

Despite the whirlwind, she was on the back of his mind through it all.

Anytime his life got a little too difficult, his mind roamed to the last time he felt normal – the last 48 hours before everything went to shit.

When he’d touched down he’d entered the empty, dusty house, throwing his things down and trudging next door.

The heavy raps of his knuckles against the wooden door were the only display of confidence he could muster.

Is Spencer here? He asked.

She’s in Europe for break.

Europe.

Of all the places she had to be during the holidays, it had to be across the world.

So he found himself at the bar, a newly 21 year old downing holiday drinks as fast as the bartender could make them.

She’d probably forgotten about him. It’s best he moved on anyways.

––––

year four

Graduation was so close she could taste it.

Yeah, she was drowning in med school applications and coming down from her post MCAT high, but her degree was peeking over the horizon, just within her reach.

She could only afford to visit home for a couple days before she had to roadtrip to a couple med schools to tour and interview.

She’d grown into herself the past three years, gaining confidence she didn’t know she had in her. Countless haircuts, style changes, shifts in interest – anytime she was uncomfortable she reinvented herself. It was freeing as hell.

So… going home was weird. Like she was regressing. She knew she wasn’t, but it didn’t stop the itching feeling that she didn’t belong there.

Her parents convinced her to visit for the holidays since it was her last year before she was truly on her own. The car ride was anxiety inducing – she tried to shove the thoughts to the back of her brain.

It’d been three years. She couldn’t dwell on it anymore. It was just a fun weekend, a spontaneous date, a gorgeous guy. Nothing more than that.

She’d moved on for sure – lots of dates, sloppy bar makeouts, and one night stands – but she couldn’t completely forget about the stranger.

It wasn’t like anything super memorable happened – it was a classic crush because of how confident he was.

Now that she’d started to emulate that same confidence herself, the allure was mostly gone, but she just couldn’t let him go no matter how hard she tried.

This time her eyes flickered to the house next door, gaze lingering a bit longer than she wanted to allow herself to look.

At least on paper she was growing.

–––––

Her first dinner at home was the same as always. She spent most of the time dodging intrusive questions and diplomatically answering as well as she could.

Maybe she should’ve thanked her parents for pressuring her to come home – it was perfect interview preparation and she didn’t have to lift a finger.

Her room was untouched as usual, the decor nauseatingly basic – if she hated it before, she hated it more now.

The suburban life was even farther away from what she’d wanted three years ago. Fast paced city life and a job in a world renowned hospital were her only two goals as far as she was concerned. Anything else could wait.

As she unpacked her toiletries, she found herself glancing at the door to her balcony.

She shook it off, choosing to settle in bed with a warm blanket with her laptop and planner, trying to focus on her diploma application.

––––

She jolted awake, scrubbing the sleeve of her jacket across her cheek, grimacing when she saw streaks of drool on the fabric.

She shuddered a bit, realizing she fell asleep on top of the covers, the room’s temperature absolutely freezing.

The space heater was close by, luckily, so she didn’t have to shuffle far to plug it in, crouching down next to it to rub her hands in front of it.

The window to her balcony was cracked just slightly  – it’d probably blown open bc of the wind or something. She pushed herself to her feet again, closing and locking the door, but not before catching a glimpse of a light. It wasn’t a streetlight. It was a porch light.

She flung the door open and stepped onto the balcony, ignoring the snow seeping through her fuzzy socks, numbing her toes.

Bryce’s lights were on, and fresh tire tracks trailed up the driveway to the garage.

––––

She tossed and turned that night, a little glad that she’d gotten at least some sleep in the form of a nap.

She gave up after a while, brewing coffee and sitting in the kitchen with her laptop for a couple of hours before her parents awoke.

When they finally woke up, she practically jumped at the chance to ask them about him.

“No one’s lived next door for years. Someone comes and checks up on it once or twice a year, but other than that, it’s vacant,” her mother said, elbows deep in a sink full of dirty plates.

She was thankful her mom was preoccupied so she wouldn’t see her deflate.

––––

Spencer allowed herself approximately thirty minutes of sulking before she made a to-do list of everything she needed to get done before noon.

She’d been home for less than a day and she was already itching to get out.

The drive from her parents’ house to the tiny coffee shop was short, the handful of tables inside bare. She guessed it was because most people were at home enjoying spending time with family – she was the odd one out for having her planner and laptop splayed across the table.

She was neck deep in a chem textbook when she saw him.

He was more chiseled. Taller, too.

The beanie was tugged tight around his head, cheeks flushed. The quarter zip up fit him like a glove, hugging every single muscle.

He slipped his gloves off, tucking them into his pocket, squinting – probably trying to decipher the inane pun names for each drink.

“Can I get a, uh, latte with a couple espresso shots?” She heard him ask, peeking over the top of her textbook, trying to get a good look at him.

He chuckled pretty suddenly, pointing at the clear display of pastries. “Add one of those little things onto it.”

“You mean the ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’ cake pop or the ‘Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, sir?” The teen said.

His grin stretched even wider, hunching over to read the labels. “Can you tell me the rest of the flavors?”

“Well, we’ve got the full setup of reindeers. It gets pretty confusing at times – ’Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, ‘Prancer & Vixen Vanilla’, ‘Comet & Cupid Cheesecake’, ‘Donner & Blitzen Berry’, and ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’,” the teen listed off, pointing at the nearly identical cake pops.

He laughed, booming throughout the small room, ringing out even over the blenders.

Yeah, that was Bryce. No doubt about it.

“Give me one of each,” he said, handing the teen a couple bills. While they counted the change, Bryce tossed a $20 bill onto the counter. “This is compensation for having to read those god awful names.”

They mirrored his expression, pocketing the bill.

Spencer was nearly frozen with fear – she didn’t think she was going to run into him. She looked frumpy and felt exhausted, and was a little frustrated at how little she understood from the passages she’d tried deciphering.

She stood up, then sat down immediately. She stood up again, conflicted.

But before she could decide what to do, he turned, coffee in hand, bag of cake pops in the other – one cake pop tucked deep into his cheek. 

She saw him.

He saw her.

Time slowed. 

She was grateful that he was the first to move towards her, eyes bright, gaze soft like he’d seen an old friend – God, that reaction alone was enough to make Spencer float above the clouds.

He chewed his cake pop on the way over, setting down his bag and coffee near the edge of the table out of the way of her mess.

“Hey,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food, chewing vigorously.

“Bryce, oh my god, I – I thought I’d never see you again – you just disappeared and –”

He held up a hand, swallowing. “What’d you say?”

“Oh, I said that I thought I’d never see you again –”

“Wait, wait,” he flipped the side of his beanie up, revealing wireless headphones, which he tugged out and immediately pocketed.

Christ. Embarrassing. Her cheeks burned, inwardly cringing. This is going so swimmingly, Spencer.

He shook his head incredulously, mouth moving like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“I… didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, eyes slowly raking over her features.

“Oh my god, I didn’t think I’d see you, Bryce,” she said, nervously adjusting her glasses. Good thing he didn’t notice her recycling sentiments.

“So… how have you been?” He smiled, taking a sip of his latte.

He was playing this way cooler than she was. How was he not freaking the fuck out?

“I’ve been good. Uh, good and kinda busy I guess. I’m waiting to hear back from a couple of med schools and I’m graduating this spring, so I’m excited about that,” she said, trying and failing to figure out how to condense three years worth of personal growth into a couple sentences without boring him to tears. “What about you?”

He nodded, tipping back the steaming latte again. “I’ve been pretty good. Got into my dream med school and it’s, like, across the country from where I am now, so that’ll be good for me. Fresh start, you know?”

She gave him a slight smile, closing her textbook and stacking her planner on top of it.

“Oh, I was just picking this stuff up, so I can let you get back to studying,” he said, unsure, jabbing his thumb towards the door.

“No, no, I was closing it so I can give you my full attention,” she explained, shaking her head. “Just getting some random stuff done. I’m fine.”

He relaxed a bit more at that, settling into his seat like he was at home. “So… what are you working on?”

“I’m getting some last stuff done before I leave this weekend. Just some basic housekeeping. Ironing out details, you know,” she nodded, fiddling with the frayed hole on the hem of her hoodie.

He was trying to jump back in like everything was… normal. This wasn’t normal.

“Oh you’re leaving?” He seemed disappointed, a wrinkle forming between his brows where he pushed them together.

“Yeah, I’m using part of my break to fit in some last minute tours and interviews.”

“Oh… Well if you’re leaving soon, do you wanna do dinner at my place tonight?” He asked. “I feel like we’d be more comfortable catching up there.”

A… date? After all these years? And he still knows literally nothing about me?

––––

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile.

His pulse raced, wondering if she’d reject him. He should’ve thought it through before blurting out a question like that. He’d spoken to her for all of five minutes and he was already asking her to go back to his place.

“So… is this a date?”

The mischievous look on her face was contagious – just a hint of flirtatious teasing like the first time they met.

“Yeah, but only if you want it to be,” he answered, tossing the drink back again, the liquid warming his insides (his morning run was long, and the wind was biting).

“And if I don’t?” She adjusted her glasses again, the only sign of tension amidst her otherwise calm demeanor.

And if he hadn’t ran through the memories of that night over and over, fixating on every little detail he managed to retain, he might’ve not caught it.

Her nervousness was a comfort – It meant she still liked him enough to be on edge around him.

“Then we’re just two neighbors catching up while eating food,” he shrugged, popping another cake pop in his mouth.

He held the bag out to her. “Want one?”

She peered over into the bag, lashes gently brushing her under eyes. “Will you get mad if I take Rudolph?”

God, she was so fucking pretty. He couldn’t get over it. All these years and she only managed to get hotter.

“Why would that bother me?” He mumbled through his mouth full of cake.

“He’s supposed to be special, right? I just thought you’d want him,” she said, crossing her arms on the table and leaning in more.

He sat up, leaning an elbow on the table, tipping forward to close the gap between them – he plucked the cake pop from the bag by its stick, waving it in front of her face.

She didn’t retreat. The only reaction was the color rising to her cheeks, a hint of rouge beneath the spatter of light freckles on her face – the ones that no one could see unless they were this close.

“You’re special, too, y’know,” he said, pushing the limits even more, bringing it to her lips. “Take it.”

He was egging her on, testing whatever change she’d clearly been through – underneath the confidence lurked something sultry that he desperately wanted to bring out of her.

She leaned forward and lowered her mouth around the pop, sinking her teeth into the stick, her lips grazing the tips of Bryce’s fingers.

She pulled back, chewing through a smile. “Yum.”

His stomach flipped, but he kept his poker face even.

It was odd, having this girl in front of him that he’d thought about for years when he’d convinced himself it was a fluke or a dream or a little bit of both.

They both chewed in silence, eyes still firmly locked on each other.

There was so much he needed to say but it just wasn’t the right time.

“What time should I come over?” She asked after swallowing.

“When do you usually eat dinner?”

She rolled her eyes at him, still trying to hold back a smile even though she clearly found him mildly entertaining if not infuriating as hell (which was an attitude he thrived off of).

“I don’t care, Spence. Whenever you want.”

––––

Bryce tapped his foot, adjusting the napkins and cutlery for the hundredth time before pacing towards the monitor that showed him the front door’s security cam.

He should not have told her to come over whenever. The delivery guy was stuck in traffic, so his whole plan of pretending like he cooked was thwarted by the icy roads.

He checked the delivery app for the millionth time, the time remaining still stuck on “14 minutes”.

Was a button up with slacks too much for dinner? Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been nervous before a date.

He wasn’t sure if it ever had happened before, because it didn’t happen.

He wasn’t afraid of shooting his shot with anyone. That cute guy at the gym? No hesitation. His bio lab partner sophomore year? Of course. The ex-girlfriend of the one fraternity brother he didn’t like? Yup. That one fraternity brother he really liked? Hell yeah.

There wasn’t a time that he he actually had to try to get someone to like him – his conquests weren’t really conquests. They’d always just kind of… fallen into his lap, for lack of a better phrase.

But he also couldn’t name a single person he’d “pined” for, whatever that meant. Spencer was the first girl that had slipped through his fingers – maybe this date would be closure. If she was down to fuck, maybe they’d get the weird three-year-long outstanding “what if?” question answered.

He filled the bucket with ice, neatly digging the champagne bottle’s base into it, even grabbing a rag to wipe the perspiration off the metal to buy some time.

A few more minutes passed. When he checked the app again, it’d changed to “13 minutes”, and Spencer was walking down his driveway.

Even on the grainy screen he could tell that whatever she had on was gonna drive him wild.

He strode towards the door, flinging it open to greet her.

“Hey, Spencer,” he grinned, opening his arms wide for a hug.

She matched his expression with a sweet smile of her own, slipping into his grip and molding herself against his body like she belonged there.

Fuck, she smelled delicious. Her hair, her lip gloss, her perfume – everything about her was delectable and made holding back all the more harder.

“Hey, Bryce,” she murmured, squeezing him. “It’s cold. Can we move inside?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry about that,” he apologized, pulling back but keeping his palm on her lower back, shutting and locking the door behind him.

She walked into the main corridor, just kind of… observing. Taking everything in.

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?” He asked, glancing down at her discreetly. 

“It’s… nice. I can tell it’s your parents’ house.”

He chuckled, surprised. “Yeah, but what is that supposed to mean?”

“None of your personality is in this house. I figured it’d be brighter. Less marble, too,” she said, gesturing towards the decorations straight from a catalogue sprinkled throughout the house.

He couldn’t help that his parents insisted on flying out their personal interior designer to every house they owned. But it didn’t make it any less cringe worthy.

“No, you’re right,” he nodded, shrugging. “Can’t argue with that.”

He gently steered them towards the kitchen, his eyes flitting towards her as she scanned the house, a pleasant enough look on her face.

“What would you change about this house?” She asked, sliding onto one of the never-been-used barstools.

“Well, for one, I wouldn’t even have it in the first place,” he said, opening the cabinet next to the fridge, retrieving the champagne glasses.

“Really?”

“Really. If I had it my way, we would’ve never left Maui.”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Setting the glasses down in front of her, he stood on the other side of the counter, grabbing the bottle by its neck, unravelling the wrapping on the outside. “Hope this is alright. I just picked a bottle that looked expensive.”

“Expensive doesn’t mean better,” she said, eyes trained on the bottle, probably trying to read the label.

“You’re right, again. Two for two,” he joked, sliding the cork from the opening with a loud “pop”, the sound ricocheting off the walls and flooring.

After pouring it, he cocked his head her way, encouraging her to take the first sip.

She tipped the glass back, her nose scrunching after taking a deep swallow. “Mmmm. I would’ve settled for the shitty boxed wine I drank in college over this.”

He took a sip and shook his head, sticking his tongue out with a grimace. “Yeah, this tastes like ass.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as she laughed, making a breathy choking sound that he found oddly endearing.

“To answer your question, I’d probably paint the walls yellow. Hang up my grandpa’s old surfboard my dad passed down to me, if I can even find it. Maybe some movie posters,” he continued, gesturing towards the deadspace on the walls in the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I pictured, too,” she hummed, shivering after downing the rest of the glass.

“You don’t have to drink anymore. We agreed it tastes like shit,” he walked over to the cabinet, browsing the bottles, nearly empty. “I only have… a little bit of tequila and some rum.”

“I’ll take a rum and coke then,” she smiled gratefully, pushing the empty glass to the side.

While making the drinks, he checked his phone, hoping that the driver was close by. No luck – the time hadn’t shifted.

“So… when’s the delivery guy getting here?”

He could sense her behind him. When he turned to offer her a glass, he realized just how close she was.

She accepted the glass, craning her neck around him to look at his phone’s screen. “I knew it.”

“What? What’d you know?” He asked, unable to look anywhere but her plush lips, curved upwards into a grin.

She was life-ruiningly pretty. It was like God himself scanned Bryce’s brain and 3D copied his fantasies into the form of Spencer Matsuzaki, who was quite literally the girl of his dreams.

“I knew you weren’t a cooking type. I figured you were gonna get takeout, and I was right,” she pointed at his screen, the delivery app still open.

“Yeah, I was gonna try to impress you and pretend that I’d cooked everything but clearly that didn’t pan out,” he chuckled, peering down at her.

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, Bryce. I would’ve easily clocked that,” she shook her head, taking a quick sip of her drink, still standing close enough to him that he could feel her breath on him each time she laughed.

Before he dropped everything and propositioned her right there to take it to the living room, she turned on her heel and walked back towards her stool.

They sipped their drinks in silence, an air of awkwardness settling into the atmosphere – for the first time in, well, years they were completely and utterly alone.

She chewed her lip, swiping her thumb across the perspiration on the cup. “So…” 

“So?”

“I feel like we have a lot of ground to cover.”

He nodded. “I guess the question now is ‘where do we start?’”

“We could just ask each other stuff and see how that goes.”

“I’ll go first – are you still single?”

A laugh ripped from her chest, bounding off the walls and floor, filling up the space with sound (one that was quickly becoming his favorite).

“That’s the first thing you ask me? After all these years?” She asked incredulously, shaking her head in awe.

He grinned. “Sounds like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Avoiding the question? Or you’re single?” He teased.

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, no.”

“Oh, at the moment. Seems like I’ve got some competition.”

Laughing, she tipped her head back to take a deep gulp. He watched as she did, a bit envious of the glass wrapped between her fingers and the rim caught between her lips.

She was a bit more timid when she drank the hot chocolate he offered her years before, cupping it with both hands and taking soft sips, smiling shyly, like being offered a drink on a date was something she should be grateful for.

The way she held herself was different. Before, it was like she was apologetic for taking up too much space, but this version of Spencer took the world by storm – like when she walked into the room, she claimed the space as her own before anyone else could tell her differently.

Whatever miniscule reservations he had about sleeping with her were out the window before she set her glass back down.

“I’m assuming you don’t have anyone at home waiting for you if you asked me that first,” she said, bluntly, chewing on a piece of ice.

“What makes you say that?” “Well you’re obviously gauging whether or not you want to fuck me tonight so I might as well be as upfront as you,” she shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“Is that so?” He quirked a brow at her. “Would you count frequent hookups?”

“Nope. I’ve got those, too, but I don’t count ‘em.”

“So you turned out to be pretty wild, huh?”

She laughed. “I hope you realize how weird you sound. I’m not who I was at 18. Shit, and you barely even knew me then!”

He held his hands up in protest. “My bad.”

She tapped her nails on the counter, looking a bit conflicted. “No, it’s okay. Just a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.”

“Parents, huh?”

“Yep. Don’t quite approve of who I am, even though I’m literally going to be studying to be a doctor,” she rolled her eyes. “I did get pretty wild, though. I mean, I had to get it out of my system before med school, you know?”

He shrugged. “Totally understandable.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t yours here? I figured I was going to accidentally run into them or something,” she mused, crunching on another ice cube.

He tried hiding his reaction, but he couldn’t help the way he tensed up at the mere mention of them. The thought of her bringing them up crossed his mind before, so thankfully he was able to keep it moving.

“Oh, they moved back to Hawaii a while ago. Been waiting to put this house on the market but it just didn’t seem like the right time.”

“So why aren’t you with them for the holidays?”

He stiffened, racking his brain for a believable lie. There was no fucking way he was baring his soul to the girl that just stepped back into his life.

She was the last good memory he had before everything went to shit, so he couldn’t break the illusion. Spencer was too good for this – maybe too good for him.

Court baggage was a heavy load to bear. Criminal baggage was even heavier. Lying to save face was the only way he could protect them both.

“Oh, it was just cheaper for me to stay here than fly back to Hawaii.”

She nodded, seemingly in agreeance, swirling the last bit of ice around her glass before tipping it back again. “S’good you get a little peace and quiet between semesters.”

“You have no idea,” he breathed, practically sighing in relief, thankful the crisis was averted.

“I do have a question, though,” she said, setting the glass down and pushing it away from her. “Why did you leave your number on my window sill?”

He leaned over the counter, bracing his arms against it. “So you did see it.”

“You’re lucky I found it! You could not have chosen a worse place to put it.”

“Well, you used to always walk out on your balcony so I thought it’d be safe.”

She pursed her lips, seemingly holding back a smile. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, of course. Why didn’t you, you know, use the number, though?” He asked, teasing.

Her mouth popped open, looking almost offended by his words. “Oh my god, you think if I had your number we still wouldn’t have talked for three years?”

“When you put it that way, I guess it doesn’t make sense,” he laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

“No, but I can’t get over that – you thought this entire time that I just didn’t try to contact you? Bryce, you offered to kiss me before literally disappearing into the night – you thought I wouldn’t have at least, you know, tried following up on that?” Spencer was giggling in between her words, barely able to get it out of her system.

“Yeah, well, you think I didn’t want to follow up on the kiss either? I’m the one who offered!”

They were cutting up, both leaning over the counter, folded over in laughter. They’d shifted closer as they got more comfortable with each other, their arms nearly grazing each others’ over the cold granite. 

God, she was so beautiful. Everything he felt when he met her three years ago was pretty much amplified. He had it bad for her.

When she noticed how close they were, her eyes flitted to his lips, tongue darting out to wet her own.

“You wanna cash in on that now? I heard that ‘Bryce Lahela Kiss Coupons’ never expire,” he said, voice low, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb over her chin.

“Bryce…” she said, closing her eyes, before leaning back to put some distance between them. “We have to lay some ground rules first.”

He sighed, standing up at his full height. “Okay, shoot.”

“I’m not trying to go all analytical on you, but we have to get this out of the way first. Tell me where your top three med schools are.”

A snort escaped him before he could stop himself. “What, do you only fuck guys that go to –”

“– And girls –”

“And girls – that go to John Hopkins?” He asked, teasing. “Me, too, by the way.”

She shook her head, ignoring his joke. “Nope. Just tell me.”

“Well, I’m looking at California, New York, and Chicago. What about you?”

“Ohio, Virginia, and Washington.”

The pieces fell into place for him. “Damn, you were playing chess and I was playing checkers, huh?”

She laughed. “No, no, I was just curious. I didn’t think we’d get as far as relationship talk, but I figured after everything we’d been through, we might as well discuss it, you know?”

“So that means this is a one-and-done type deal.”

“I guess so,” she said, scratching at her neck. “I’ve made out with plenty of people before and forgotten it, so if you want to just see how we feel, I’m down.”

“Oh, I think you’ll remember this for a while,” he said, stretching across the counter to gently cup her face in both hands, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

Their first kiss was unlike no other. What’d started out as an offhanded joke to relieve three years worth of tension quickly morphed into desperate grabbing of clothes, heavy pants, and even heavier tension crackling like a fire between them.

She fisted his collar, dragging him to her over the counter, kneeling on her bar stool and pushing herself closer and closer to him. 

Bryce had his share of sloppy bar makeouts, passionate kisses amidst sex – even sweet domestic kisses during mundane tasks. But this kiss? Somehow it was a bit of everything rolled into one.

They parted pretty abruptly when he elbowed her empty champagne glass and it clattered against the counter.

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling back just a hair to check the damage.

When he turned back, she was still holding him, staring at him, a look on her face that he hadn’t seen before.

“That was…” her lids fluttered, tongue darting out to lick her lips – like she was savoring his taste.

“Really good.”

She nodded. “Insanely good.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Is it what you were dreaming of?” He teased, but there was a hint of sincerity to it. 

She nodded again, her grip tightening on his collar. “I’m a little scared at how much I enjoyed it.”

“Scared? Why?” He murmured, stroking his thumb against her cheek in comfort.

“Well… this can’t happen,” she gestured between them.

“It doesn’t have to happen. We can pretend like the kiss never did, just like you said. I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

“But… what if I want it to?”

He couldn’t conceal the smirk tugging at his lips. “You wanna take this upstairs?”

She tried holding back a smile. “Maybe.”

“Well, you can think about it over dinner, whenever that gets here.”

The driver took about twenty minutes, and eating took them twenty more. Small talk was managed, jokes were cracked, but there was an unmistakable feeling in the air that both of them could sense.

Bryce was no stranger to sexual tension. Hell, he thrived on it.

Making a cute girl blush? Exhilarating. Getting a guy at the bar fund his hangover? Incredible. Those few minutes between knowing you’re going to fuck someone and actually fucking them? Couldn’t get enough.

The minute their plates were cleared, she took his hand and led him upstairs, throwing glances back at him like if she let go for a second he’d disappear.

As much as he just wanted to fool around, he couldn’t help but pocket the small details for later, just in case he decided it was alright to get emotionally invested. Despite feeling like he had a hold on the situation, he definitely didn’t.

He was a bit delusional in thinking he wasn’t already falling for her the way she was for him.

––––

[part 1.5 coming soon]

____

They’d been curled up in bed for nearly an hour and a half, just talking, every once in a while pulling the other in for another kiss that led to roaming hands. 

In another life, if they’d both lived in that town and grew up there, there was no doubt they’d be best friends. High school sweethearts, even.

But she knew that whatever daydreams she’d conjured up could never be reality.

This was a one-time thing. They both knew that.

After a lull in conversation she slipped out of bed, gathering her clothes and tossing them onto the bed.

“You leaving?” He asked, sitting up.

“Uh, yeah. I think I need to get going. I’ve still got a curfew,” she shrugged, making a hand motion like she was pulling the trigger.

“Still have one? Damn, that sucks. Am I gonna get to see you tomorrow?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

He remembered her curfew?

She snapped her bra back in place, avoiding his eye as she slid on her straps. “I, um, have to leave.”

“I thought you were staying through the weekend?” He sounded taken aback, like he thought he had more time.

She slipped her underwear and pants on fast. “I have a long drive ahead of me and I kinda wanted a night to breathe before I tour and interview, you know?”

He was silent. She threw her sweater on before daring a glance at him. His eyes were trained on the mattress, refusing to look at her.

“Bryce,” she called, but he shook his head.

She sat on the mattress, tipping his chin up with her finger. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, sighing. “It’s stupid.”

“C’mon, it’s not stupid. Tell me.”

“I’m kinda regretting this being a one-time thing.”

She raked his hair back, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I am, too.”

He met her eyes again, brows furrowed. “You are?”

She nodded. “I like you. A lot.”

“So what’s stopping us? We can make it work if we try –”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, looking at the ground. “I don’t know if we can.”

“Why not?”

“The distance, first of all. And we’re going to be in different programs in different states, so there’s no way we can fully commit to school and our future if we’re trying to start a relationship and maintain it –”

“Spencer, you think I’m gonna give up that easily after all this time? I just got you back,” he said, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

“This isn’t giving up, Bryce… this is… practical. Rational,” she added, leaning into his touch. “The right thing to do.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“I know, but… I think it’s easier to move on now rather than later when we’re in too deep,” she gulped, trying to soothe the lump forming in her throat.

She knew this wasn’t gonna be easy, but she figured it’d be easier than falling for him over phone calls and video chats and sweet good morning texts and the inevitable breakup that came after.

“You sure we’re not already in it?” He asked, underneath his breath, gaze flitting to her lips.

She rolled her lips, shaking her head, trying to mask her wobbling chin.

“If you don’t want to get hurt, I get it, but I need you to know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you,” he said, cupping her cheeks with both hands. “And – and I never thought I’d see you again, so I don’t want to let you go without at least, you know, trying to fight for you.”

He brought her in for a deep kiss, seemingly trying to plead his case with his touch.

“Maybe we should just go our separate ways and pretend tonight didn’t happen. It might be less difficult,” she murmured after he pulled away.

“None of this will be easy for us, Spence,” he pressed their foreheads together, both of them closing their eyes.

“Honestly, I want nothing more than to be with you. I want you so badly, but I’ve got so many commitments and my career and I can’t just throw my responsibilities out the window, because I know I would – that’s what scares me,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“You’re right. I hate that you’re right.”

––––

When she slipped back into her room after saying a quick goodnight to her parents, she curled up in her bed and cried.

She didn’t want to cry – it was like her body wouldn’t let her hold it in any longer. The sobs wracked her body as if personified guilt had grabbed her by the shoulders, dug its fingers into her skin, and shook her the tears from her.

Hours later, she woke up in the middle of the night, face still puffy and irritated. As she stood up to go throw cool water on her face, she noticed something taped to her window.

His number and socials were listed in a neat bulleted list, and below it, he’d scrawled a simple note:

“If we meet again.”

––––

[thetravelerwrites]

Karama (Part 3) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Human/Male Dragon Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Gay Monster, Dragon, Reader Insert, Gay Reader, OkCryptid Content Warning: Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Size Difference

Commissioned by @obviousmystery​! Karama finally gets up the courage to host a cocktail party for the literature community and makes and important announcement. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

A year with Karama had gone by like a dream, and your first book was selling like hotcakes. Karama, on the other hand, had taken a sabbatical from writing for his own mental wellness and to enjoy his time with you. He had far and away plenty of money that taking a year off wouldn’t affect his lifestyle all that much; on the contrary, Lamieta said that the first book after his sabbatical would be wildly popular.

Currently, he was excited for his first ever cocktail party. He’d been working up to it all year, having small gatherings and dinner parties with close friends and family, but this would be the first time he’d be inviting a large group of people he’d spoken to but never met before, people who were also part of the literary community. Writers, editors, publishing house executives, that sort of thing. He’d billed it as your debut party, but there was something he wasn’t telling you.

“I have a very important announcement to make during the party,” He kept saying, but he wouldn’t tell you what it was.

“What is it?” You asked. “You have to tell me what it is, I’m your boyfriend.”

“No! It’s a secret!” He said, bounding around playfully.

“How old are you, again?” You asked as he lay on his back, running his legs in the air.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said. “Did you send all the invites?”

“Yes, I sent all the invites,” You said for the hundredth time. “Try not to obsess. You’ll get wrinkles.”

He righted himself, raising his forepaw and looking at his stomach and legs, which were all scales. “Where?”

“Are you really not going to tell me the secret announcement?” You asked him, getting up and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Really, really?”

“Really really,” He said, pulling his neck up so that you were dangling from it. He then carried you to the bed nest and settled you down in it. “It’s a secret from everyone, including you. What good would it be to tell you? You’ll tell your moms, and then all your friends, and they’ll put it on social media, and then what was the point of it being a secret?”

“So you’re saying only Lamieta knows? That’s no fair.” Your eyes widened suddenly. “Wait!” You said, jumping to your feet. “Babe! Are you going to reveal yourself as Elliot Ritter publicly? I know you’d been thinking about it, but is this party going to be the big reveal? That’s huge!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said, gently knocking you back down into the bed and pulling off your pajama bottoms.

“What are you doing down there, big guy?” You asked as he carefully maneuvered a toothy fang around the elastic of your underwear and pulled it off, too.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He asked, his long, thin tongue wrapping around your shaft, tickling your sack with the tip of it. “I’m distracting you.”

You groaned as you felt yourself growing hard on his tongue. “This is only a momentary diversion, mister,” You said breathlessly.

“I only need a moment,” He said, snickering.

“I certainly hope that’s not true,” You replied, shoving him playfully and trying to get away by throwing pillows at his head.

“C’mere, you,” He said, pouncing on you and snugging you in. You’d gotten used to the coolness of his scaly skin, and at the beginning of the relationship, you’d thought his skin was quite hard, but his scales were actually sort of velvety to the touch, like chick down. It was so nice to snuggle against, although your flannel stuck to it sometimes. “If I do that thing you like, will you give me a good brush down?”

“Tell me the secret and I will,” You countered.

“Oh, well, no thing-you-like for you,” He said sadly.

“You get over here,” You said. Despite the fact that he was twice as long as you, you had learned how to flip him in your time together. You surprised him and he fell on his back with an oof.

The nice thing about living with a boyfriend who didn’t wear clothes is that there was no need to undress him when the two of you were in the mood. All you had to do was press gently on the slit that hid his cock, and it sprung right out. Though disproportionately small for his actual size, it was still pretty big.

There was a small jar of lube that you kept in a bedside table where you lay your wallet, watch, and glasses for the night. As he lay there and watched, you took a big scoop and began running it up and down his organ with your hands, slicking it down. He groaned appreciatively.

You climbed up on his stomach, which he assured you many times didn’t bother him in the slightest, and angled yourself over him, slowly easing yourself down onto him. You furrowed your brow as he stretched you, your own cock bobbing and twitching. With one hand braced on his belly and the other on your own length, you started to bounce slowly on top of him. He made a purring sound like a diesel engine idling and his eyes squinted closed.

You could feel him pulsing inside you, and you squeezed him back and stopped moving. He grunted.

“Are you going to tell me?” You asked.

He huffed. “No!”

“Well, I guess we’re at a stalemate, then, because I’m not moving,” You said, crossing your arms.

“You make me want to do terrible, terrible things to you,” He said seductively.

“Like what?” You countered.

“Like this!” He grabbed you and pulled you down so your bodies were flush and thrust up into you, making you gasp. He was well-practiced at this point in how rough he could be with you before you were uncomfortable, and boy, he was exploiting that knowledge right now. Your mouth hung open and your brow furrowed as he rammed into you, finding that sweet spot and hitting it just right to make your brain melt.

“Not… fair…” You gasped as he continued. He grinned wickedly. You were glad he wasn’t as sheepish as he was when you first met him, but you didn’t like that he knew how to use his new-found confidence against you in inopportune times. Such as right now.

You could feel yourself getting close, and before you could open your mouth to say so, you felt yourself release between the two of you, leaving you gaping like a fish. He stood up abruptly on his hind legs, taking you with him, and held you in his forepaws as he got out of the nest and onto the tile floor of the bedroom. He sped up, then roared lowly, pulling you up and off of him as he came all over the floor. There was a lot. There usually was.

He fell to his side, carefully shielding you from the impact on the ground, and lay there for a few minutes, recovering.

“Ha,” You said vaguely, pointing a hand weakly. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

He snorted. “Mmhmm,” He replied with his eyes closed. “Sure you do, hon.”

“We should clean that up before the roomba gets in here.”

“I don’t know why you bought that thing. It doesn’t like me.”

You snickered. “Just because it bumps into you whenever you’re in the same room with it doesn’t mean it doesn’t like you. You just take up a lot of space.”

Karama grumbled but set you back into the bed-nest. As he got a towel from the bathroom, you took the wet wipes from your table to clean yourself. When the two of you were done, he got back in the nest and covered you with your blanket.

“So, are you going to tell me now?” You asked sleepily.

“No,” He replied emphatically. “Now go to sleep.”

“How am I going to sleep with this huge secret thing hanging over my head?” You asked indignantly.

“Babe, the party is tomorrow,” He said dryly. “You can wait until then.”

“I’m going to be grumpy until then,” You said.

“You’ll survive, I’m sure,” He replied. “Now sleep.”

The next day was pretty hectic. Last minute preparations were underway. Your moms and Lamieta were already there, helping set up. Karama’s older sister, Kaer, was also there. She was much like Karama, only a lovely rose gold color with lavender eyes and horns.

You’d only met her once before on Karama’s birthday. She was nice, if a little blunt. She was a traditional dragon, living with her hoard and children in a cave in the mountains. Her children were old enough now to guard the hoard alone so that she could go off whenever she liked.

“A little to the left, Kaer,” Karama was saying. Kaer was jumping from the perches in Karama’s main room, hanging decorative lanterns from them. “Perfect. That looks great.”

“I’m still confused as to the point of this party thing, but I’m happy you’re happy,” She said.

“It’s for my love!” Karama said. “It’s his debut party. His second book should be coming out soon and I wanted to introduce him to the industry properly.”

“And it’s a lovely gesture,” Your mom Milena said. She came up and kissed Karama’s cheek. “This is wonderful, baby. You’re so sweet to our little boy.”

“Why does he need a debut? When dragon children are ready to leave the hoard, we just kick them out and tell them to find their own cave,” Kaer said, shrugging.

“Ha!” Praiyasha said, pointing at Kaer approvingly. “See, that’s a tradition I can appreciate.”

“Lizards,” Karama said, shaking his head. Milena laughed and patted his head.

“You’re a lizard, too, you dope,” Kaer said, tackling her brother.

“Hey, hey! Not in the house!” Karama said. “We just got done fixing this place up!”

“It was nice before!” Kaer said, standing back up. “What’s wrong with the way it was?”

“You just don’t understand,” Karama groused.

“You’re right, I don’t!” She retorted. “This seems like a waste of time. And I don’t know why you’re so worked up over it.”

“It has to be perfect!” He said. “Everything has to be perfect. Tonight is very important!”

You smiled at him and shook your head. He was more excitable than you’d ever seen him, and understandably. It had been a dream of his to open his home to friends and family, and he was always too shy to do it. It took your and Lamieta’s urging to get him to this point, and you were excited for him.

The guests began to arrive, and Karama was a little overwhelmed at first, but he opened up as the night went on. Lamieta had hired a caterer and waitstaff crew to work for the night, and they knew what they were doing, weaving through the crowd, serving wine and hors d'oeuvres. Everything was going smoothly, but Karama still seemed nervous.

“What’s going on, babe?” You asked him during a private moment. “You’ve been on edge all night. Is it the announcement that’s got you all twisted up?”

“Yes,” He sighed. “I’m not sure when I should do it. And I’m nervous about speaking in front of everyone. I’ve never spoken in front of this many people before.”

“You’ll be fine,” You said. “You got this. And I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“I want to formally announce you to the room,” He said. “As a courtesy.”

“You don’t have to do that,” You said. “I’ve been mingling and introducing myself. A lot of people recognized me from the picture on the first book.”

“I know, but this is a debut,” He argued.

“You didn’t have a debut,” You said.

“I did, actually, I just didn’t go to it,” He admitted. “Lamieta went as my representative.”

“You didn’t even go to your own debut?” You said. “That’s a shame. Tonight is for both of us, then.”

“Yes,” Karama said, smiling. “It is.”

“Come on,” You said, taking his ear. “Let’s go back out.”

Karama followed you back out and began following you around the room as you mingled with the guests. He was quiet at first, but he opened up and started chatting and laughing. You were glad he was beginning to relax.

About two hours in, Lamieta got Karama’s attention and the two of them disappeared for a few moments. You smiled and assumed they were getting ready to make the announcement.

Sure enough, Lamieta reappeared and took a glass from a tray. Taking a small spoon, he began to tap the side of the glass.

“If I could have your attention!” He called. “Attention please!”

The room quieted and everyone looked toward him.

“Many of you know me as Lamieta, the editor for the amazing Elliot Ritter,” Lamieta began. “As his representative, I regret to inform you that he will not be attending.”

There were some sounds of disappointment, but it looked as if most people weren’t surprised by this. After all, “Elliot Ritter” had never attended a party in his career.

“However, I would like to take this opportunity to thank our host, who has graciously opened his home and allowed us to welcome a new writer into our community. Karama, please come out and greet the guests.”

There was clapping and Karama appeared next to Lamieta, sitting primly and attempting to appear smaller than he was.

“A toast to Karama for hosting this beautiful party,” Lamieta said, raising his glass. “To Karama!”

“To Karama!” The crowd echoed.

“To Karama!” You said, raising your own glass. Karama smiled shyly at you.

“Thank you all for coming,” Karama said. His voice was a little shaky but he spoke loudly enough for the room to hear him. “As most of you are aware, this party is to honor a new writer and my boyfriend, who I’m incredibly proud of.” He called your name. “Could you join me up here?”

You smiled as people turned toward you and set your glass down on a table, heading up to the front of the room with Karama as the room clapped for you, several wishing you congratulations on your new book. You shook a few hands as you passed.

“We have been together for a year now. I’m afraid I deceived him when we first began speaking; I pretended to be my friend Lamieta, not sure if he would accept me as a dragon,” Karama said soberly, looking at you with an affectionate gaze. “Thankfully, he understood. And in what I can only attribute to a lapse in judgement, he decided to stay with me.”

There was some tittering laughter in the crowd, and you smirked at him.

“I’m very lucky to have found him,” Karama said, his voice wavering. “So much so that I decided to host a party just to ask him a question.”

The smile faded from your face as your mouth fell open. He didn’t… he wasn’t…

Lamieta handed Karama a small box, tiny in his large claws, and Karama got down to eye level with you, holding it out.

It was as if all the air had gotten sucked out of your lungs and you couldn’t breathe. You put a hand on your forehead and you heard several people gasp, including your mothers.

Karama said your full name, as if chanting a prayer. “I love you more than my entire hoard, and I’d give it all away to be with you. Will you marry me?” He offered the box for you to take.

You struggled to keep the tears out of your eyes as you reached out a shaking hand for the box. Inside, there was a beautiful ring, carved whole from a large emerald, completely smooth and the perfect size for your finger. You slipped it on.

“Yes,” You whispered, barely able to breathe. You gulped in air and said more loudly, “Yes!”

The room erupted in cheers and applause, and your mothers rushed forward. You hugged Karama around the neck and sobbed into his scales. He embraced you and lifted you up.

The debut party evolved into an engagement party, and you suddenly understood why he had been so nervous. You’d have been a wreck, too, if you’d known.

After the party wound down, the waitstaff were cleaning up, and you, Karama, Lamieta, and your families were taking down decorations.

“We’ll have to find you a ring,” You said to Karama during a rest. “I don’t know where we’ll find an emerald your size, though.”

“He laughed. “I don’t need a ring. Your promise is enough.”

Kaer nodded. “Rings are a custom for creatures with fingers.” She held up her claws and wiggled them. “To a dragon, promises are worth more than a hoard. A promise is a contract between two souls and therefore priceless. When the two of you marry, the oath you make will render his hoard basically worthless to him. You will be his hoard from that moment onward. It’s all very involved and expensive. It’s why I vowed never to marry. I’m not giving up my hoard to some uppity male who thinks he’s important.”

Karama snickered. “It’s the truth, though. If I had to give up all this,” He gestured at his house, which he had poured his hoard into. “To be with you, I’d do it and I wouldn’t regret it.”

“Where would we live, if you did that?” You said, laughing.

“Once we’re married, I’d live in a box, if you told me to,” He said.

“Well, thankfully, I don’t want to live in a box,” You replied. “I’m happy here with you.”

The two of you were married by the following spring. You got to meet his nieces and nephews at the wedding, which was held on the mountain where he and his sister had been born. They were apparently clutch mates. The wedding was small but tasteful, with only family and close friends there. Lamieta and his husband were there, along with the little girl they’d adopted. Seeing them with a child gave you your own ideas, but you didn’t want to rush things. You were still trying to get used to the idea that you were a husband now. Other things could wait.

Karama did allow Lamieta to announce that “Elliot Ritter” had married, but only in a small editorial piece that didn’t mention dates or names. He was worried that any change to his public persona would damage his sales, but his readers largely found the fact that Ritter was finally married sweet and romantic.

The two of you settled into married life, making love, writing books, and being happy. And to think, it all started with an app.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[theangrycomet]

“You win. Kind of cheated, but you win.”

-Devlin Evan Levin

Notes: Edited

*When first writing my stories I didn’t realize Kevin wasn’t Canonically Trans, so his procreations follows the Trans!Kevin Head Canon*

*Osmosians are Aliens*

*The Rooter’s arc is the same, except Kevin was just rescued by the Rooters*

*Devin Levin is Canon here, though his backstory varies*

After Kevin’s break up with Gwen, he was kind of a mess. He went back to his more shady businesses and practices. 

Sunny, wanting to snub Gwen a bit, approached him during a a lower point to have some fun

Kevin was unfortunately fooled.

When he’d found out he’d been tricked, he tried to absorb her to death. It was nearly successful too.

Due to a combination of the two’s previous *ahem* nightly activities and Kevin absorbing most of Sunny’s energy, Kevin got pregnant, much to his dismay.

Convinced he would be a bad parent, he tried to get multiple abortions to no avail; baby was too damn stubborn.

When Devlin was born, he was born in his 11 form.

But hey, Kevin finally got that Hysterectomy he’s been pushing off for years

Kevin was bluntly horrified at what he’d done to the kid. But, as Devlin reached out for him, he determined that he would love his kid to death, even if no one else would. Because f*** all if he was going to let his kid go through what he did as a kid. 

Went back to Earth because Gwen needed help (and missed him)

Went well for about two years until he was forced to absorb excess Turbonic Energy

Barely escaped being sent back to the null void (not by Tennysons, other plumbers)

Still dealing with the jerks of the business, he proceeded with the criminal lifestyle to pay the bills. He managed to keep Devlin from most of it and spent as much time as he could with him. 

He felt like he had no idea what he was doing most of the time, and constantly had to deal with other aliens trying to mess with his kid b/c of people wanting to mess with the infamous Kevin 11000

Actually got a better understanding of his own powers by teaching Devlin about his

Levin’s don’t get Normal childhoods

Birthday: Earth Time: January 2nd

Picked up his fathers’ technological prowess as well as his looks

Though it did not happen often, Devlin was knew how to deal with Kevin’s energy hangovers and subsequent mood swings

Was usually able to talk him down before anything too bad happened

Generally avoided him or fled the scene when told when Kevin got especially bad (only happened 2-3 times but the memories are still pretty vivid)

Though always threatened with being locked out if he came back after curfew, if Devlin was never actually kept out of the house. Kevin just kind of went into small panic mode.

When he was little, he loved using his alien form to cause trouble

Lighting fires with his pyronite arm

Making playhouses with his petropsian arm

(This one was tricky to figure out) Leaning back against walls hand hack security buildings with his Galvanic Mechamorph shoulder blades

Trippin’ up passerby’s with his tail

Devlin preferred the in betweens, when Kevin was most like himself and not worrying about “jerks at work”. Those were rarer than either Osmosian would have liked.

Whenever Kevin got stuck in the Null Void, waited at their hiding place until he got back

When the last time he got stuck, he waited 3 months, pretty much alone

Argit actually snuck Devlin onto Earth

Knew about his plan to get his dad out of the Null Void

Refused to help him publicly.

“And furthermore this plan is ridiculous. What, do you expect to just walts on in, befriend Ben’s youngest son, best after an argument with his old man, get him to slip up how to get in, *cough* 32ndstorybigpadlockeddoorcan’tmissit *cough* and walts out Kevin in tow? Ridiculous”.

Kenny’s Birthday weekend wasn’t the first time Devlin hadn’t been able to talk his dad out of a stupid brawl

But it was the first time Kevin physically hurt him

Devlin's not really sure how much Kevin actually cares about him any more if he was so easily able to throw him aside like that. 

Inside the Tower

He hadn’t realized that Kenny had a sister, or a mom for that matter

Didn’t really know Gwennie at first,

She eventually found a wonderful middle ground of space cars

Kai was… different

Waited to get the story from Ben about the mysterious Emo Kid presence in her living room

Immediately lost her shit at Ben, not for Devlin being brought into the house, but for not talking to her about it and, since he had evidently already made up his mind about the whole thing, still not having one of the guest room set up as his own

He hadn’t met any adult (aside from his dad) who was so brutally honest and upfront about things, having grown up with and around conmen and politicians his whole life

She kind of intimidates him

She thinks its funny that she intimidates him more than big bad Ben 10k

Ben doesn’t

Overtime, they settle into the “Protective but will let you do your thing” older sister Gwennie and “How could you be so stupid to get hurt like this! Get over here and you will let me take care of you, young man” mom role for Kai.

Kenny is definitely his best friend

As he did not grow up on Earth, he doesn’t get a lot of Earth culture stuff, especially the American side of things

What’s with all the holidays?

And why are you so obsessed with social media?

What the kriff is anime?

He regretted asking that last question

He was enrolled with school with Kenny the next school term, giving him about a year to adjust to the Tennyson household

Kids tried to pick on him for being Kevin 11K’s kid, but Kenny quickly shut that down

Ironically met one of his few friends outside of the family by starting a fight with him

Believes what he sees

Does not believe in magic. Period.

Ben tries to fill the Uncle role without stepping on toes for the Dad roe

Works surprisingly well

More of an introvert

Still a sweetheart, its just when he’s forced into an unfamiliar social situation he tends to get defensive and surly

Wasn’t interested in soccer, but found he loved hockey

Pretty damn good at it too

While smart, if he’s not interested in a subject or if a subjects hard he won’t study it

History’s his worst, with English being a close second

Tried to hide the D’s and F’s but Gwennie sniffed them out

She always knows

Additionally, he doesn’t really think past what’s in front of him

He thinks of the evidence he has in front of him and the knowledge he’s got

long term planning? Impossible

He didn’t know she was an Anodite for about a year or two. 

It wasn’t ever really brought up

Can and will question dumb leadership

Mellow other wise

Favorite Disney Movie: Lilo and Stitch

Aroflux Demisexual

Regarding his Powers

His 11 form is still his main form

He does have his own Mana, but his Osmosian side is constantly eating it away so he cannot manipulate it like a “true” Anodite can. 

He can absorb energy, but material is impossible for him

The excess energy goes into maintaining his 11 form. Because of this, when he does absorb energy

He goes to his 11 form

Retains control of his mind

If he tries to stay “human” and absorb energy is where in lies the problem

Because the energy doesn’t have anywhere to go it warps his mind

This doesn’t happen too often because he always allows the energy to outlet to his 11 form and his Anodite side generally finds ways to redirect it

With time, he learns to activate parts of his 11 form at a time

Ben mentioned off hand that at the WAY beginning, when Kevin was Devlin’s age, he could modify the energy to only work on parts of his body

It requires less energy and is convenient if he’s trying to avoid attention

Regarding Kevin

He’s still sore about being literally tossed aside in his father’s quest for power

Doesn’t want anything to do with the lying b****** at first because of he doesn’t really know what to do. He loves Ben, but he wants his dad. Like how things were before everything got all complicated. 

He has no idea what Gwendolyn saw or currently sees in him

Was conflicted when he found out his dad was getting treatment

Part of him wanted Kevin to hurt just as bad as he did when he was thrown away

Part of him wanted Kevin to get better

Part of him wanted Kevin to go away

Part of him wanted Kevin to come home as soon as possible

He was confused as to how Dr. Kincaid could help drain an Osmosian of excess power without getting killed

Devlin’s lack of Pop Culture and Current Super Hero knowledge was shown through at that point

“Turbonic Energy’s what got him into this mess, Turbonic Energy’s what’s going to get him out.”

[legoshi-plz]

Confession (Bill x Reader)

Summary: Bill has an obsession. Bully!Bill x Lynx! Reader.

Warnings: Cursing. Bullying. That’s about it.

A/N: This was a requested fic. I don’t really care for Bill’s character but this was extremely fun to write 😁

///////

You once again found yourself in detention. This was the third time this month, which had to be a new record for you. You angrily scrubbed the cafeteria tray as you seethed in hatred at a certain Bengal Tiger that landed you in here.

Bill and his goddamn personal vendetta against you that had haunted your life for the past 4 years now. The worse part was that you had done absolutely nothing to him to warrant such a grudge. One day he simply decided to hate you the same way he simply decided to make sure every day of your life was more difficult thanks to him.

It had all started in middle school. Actually the story dates back before middle school. It started when you were born.

You were a [Y/C] Lynx, a pretty rare form of bobcat. In actuality, all forms of Bobcats were rare in this city. But that never hindered you as a child nor made you feel different. You were happy and always smiling. People always told you how you had such a beautiful smile and eyes that were even more captivating.

“She’ll be quite the heartbreaker when she gets older,” your mother and her friends would joke all the time.

You had friends in abundance in elementary school and in middle school it seemed the trend would continue. Until you got your first boyfriend. He was an ordinary leopard, sweet as could be and always made you laugh. You were in heaven for all of maybe two weeks when Bill started his onslaught.

It started off as snickering behind your back. Then he began enlisting your so-called friends in his teasing. Bill was pretty popular given not only his status as a Tiger but also his ability to make girls swoon, even Herbivores, so it was all too easy for him to get your friends to turn against you. The two of you had classes together but you’d never said a word to him. It didn’t matter, he picked on you anyway.

He gradually moved on to spreading nasty rumors, writing cruel things in your notebook, and even tripping you up in the hallway. Even your friends who weren’t ensnared by his charm began to steer clear of you. Your then-boyfriend called it quits so that Bill would ease off of him as well. You started to feel incredibly dejected, going from having quite the outgoing personality to being withdrawn and quiet.

And that continued until high school. You put all your eggs in the basket that high school would be better. It had to be. You’d even gotten accepted into the highly coveted Drama club, a big step towards you getting over your shyness. You finally had something to look forward to in terms of school.

All that was crushed however, when Bill sauntered into the club’s Freshman orientation. You felt physically sick at the thought of being subjected to his torment for another three years.

At first it had started to be no big deal. You stayed out of his way and he pretended that you weren’t there. You made a couple of friends again and were even doing well in the club. As well as you could at least while trying your best to not be seen.

And the President of the club at the time (a senior Antelope that was the Cherrington Heartthrob) offered you a part in the upcoming play. It wasn’t a main role but it was considerable for a Freshman.

“T-there must be some sort of mistake,” you said quietly as the remainder of the group either gushed or groaned over the roles assigned to them.

“No mistake, you’re easily one of the prettiest girls in this Theater, maybe even in the school. I’d be an idiot not to give you the role of the ‘Fairest Maiden’,” he said casually as he walked away. You turned around to see Bill staring at you from across the room. He looked livid.

Bill never passed up on an opportunity to let you know how ugly you were, calling you a “hideous disgrace to the feline community.” For someone like you to play a part of beauty? It had to be a cruel joke.

And so that was the straw that broke the tigers back. Somehow, it was even worse than before, his contempt for you hidden behind his Nice Guy persona. Nobody would ever believe half the things he’d done or said to you, not that you would tell anybody. Wardrobe malfunctions (that just so happen be in the form of someone ripping your clothes to shreds), bumping past you and nearly knocking you down, trashing your locker, loosening the bolts on your desk/chair. Anything he could think of to make your life a living Hell, he did it.

Which brought you to your current situation. You were currently washing dishes in detention yet again because somebody had ripped the roses from every rose bush in the school’s courtyard, and haphazardly stuffed them in your desk so that everyone could see. Before you could even enter the classroom to witness Bill’s handywork in the flesh, you were called into the Principal’s office and sentenced to two weeks detention. Typical.

“Well, well, well what do we have here,” you knew that voice anywhere.

“What do you want, Bill?” You asked quietly, not bothering to turn around.

“You just can’t seem to stay out of trouble can you?” Yoy could hear the smirk in his voice but you were determined not to let him get you riled up so you remained silent.

He walked up besides you and slapped the tray you were currently washing out of your hands. The harshness of his actions caused you to gasp, frozen in place.

“I asked you a question,” he growled, grabbing your arm and spinning you around to face him. Now you were actually beginning to panic. It was already late in the evening and you were here all alone. Bill had never physically hit you before but there was a first time for everything.

“L-leave me alone, Bill,” you craned you neck to look up at his face, now glowing in anger and disgust. He was always so angry around you, as if your mere existence was an offense to his own.

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” He barred his fangs at you and you felt your eyes go wide in horror. Would he really attack you? There was no one around or near enough to hear you scream. You were an idiot for thinking you were safe from any threats on campus just because you were a Carnivore. You should have been more cautious like a Herbivore and maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“I... I... I can’t do anything about it,” you whimpered in defeat. His grip on your wrists tightened.

“Of course you can’t. Poor little Y/N, too weak to protect herself. Thinks all she has to do is bat those pretty little eyes and guys will come running. Well where are they now huh?” Bill roared and you felt tears well in your eyes.

“Bill, please stop,” you whined softly. Bill caught your gaze and held it for a long moment before you saw something in him finally snap.

“Fuck it,” Bill murmured to himself before latching his lips onto your own. You wanted to recoil immediately but you were once again frozen in place.

It seemed that his instincts took over because in a matter of seconds he had picked you up and placed you on the edge of the sink all without breaking the kiss. His hands went to your waist to pull you closer before he jerked back, pushing you away. He had a look of shock on his face as if you had slapped him.

He was panting, his eyes filled with horror at what he’d done. He immediately turned and fled without another word.

////////

The next few days almost didn’t feel real. It was like you were trapped in a weird fever dream that dragged on endlessly. You might have even believed you had imagined the whole thing if not for Bill’s sudden change in behavior. He went from endless borderline harassment to avoiding you like the plague. It was actually.... pleasant? If you had known a kiss was all it took to get him off your back, you would have done it a long time ago.

One week bled into another and you foolishly let your guard down. You were walking back to your room from detention when someone grabbed you and pulled you into a dark empty archway. It took your eyes a moment to adjust to the lack of lighting but one look at the striped hand clutching your bicep and you knew who was behind this.

“Let go of me!” You began to struggle against his hold but Bill refused to release you.

“We need to talk. Or rather, I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen,” Bill sounded serious, more serious than usual at least, so you stopped struggling and actually listened.

“I have a girlfriend, a Tigress, the way nature intended-

“Look if this is about the other night, it never happened okay? It was a mistake, it didn’t mean anything,” Bill slammed his other hand against the wall besides you effectively caging you and shutting you up.

“How could you say that?” He growled, “ How can you sit there and say it meant nothing?”

You finally gained the courage to look up at him and immediately regretted it. His face was a mix between pure fury and utter anguish. You began to seriously doubt if you would actually make it out of this alive.

“You just don’t get it do you? How hard this is for me!” He spat. Anger began to boil in you. How dare he claim your very existence was hard on him when he had made every day of you life for years a living hell.

“I think about you night and fucking day! You’re always fucking there, acting so goddamn innocent. Acting like you don’t see anyone. Well I’m tired of being goddamned invisible!” He was heaving in malice but his eyes gave him away. They were desperate, hurt.

“B-Bill.... I don’t... understand.”

“There you go again, acting clueless. Do I have to spell it out for ya?” He leaned in closer and you could feel his breath fan your face, “I can’t get you out of my head. Never could, but since that kiss? Fuck, Y/N, I want you. Bad. Always have, only difference in now I don’t think I can control it. I’ve tasted perfection and I’m not going back.”

You were so stunned that all you could manage to do was stare. Before you was the boy who hated your guts, and now he was trying to make some sort of fear mongered confession? This had to be a joke.

“Y-you can’t be serious.... Bill how many times have you called me ugly? Or dumb? Or weak?” You gasped.

“I was lying. Every time. You’re gorgeous, and everyone knows it. I’m surprised you don’t, with the way these losers throw themselves at you.” His face was inching closer to your own.

“Everyone hates me Bill, thanks to you. No one is throwing themselves at me,” you lean away in disgust.

“Yeah because I was protecting you. You really wanna waste your time on scum leopards when you could have the King of the Jungle?”

“I don’t wa-” he cut you off by crushing his lips to yours. This kiss was nothing like the one from Detention . He had confidence about him, using every skill he acquired over the years to show off. In any other instance, you would have been swooning. But this was Bill, your bully, and you weren’t going to let yourself fall for his antics.

“You feel that? I can make you feel like that all the time. I can make you happy, so freaking happy. Just give me a chance,” his breathing was husky as he broke the kiss.

“Bill this is wrong. You’ve picked on me for years-”

“I know, fuck. I know alright, but you can’t really blame me. I had to get your attention somehow, I had to get you to notice me. C’mon, you like me too. That’s why you’re always staring at me, making sure to skip around me. You’ve been playing this game for while,” He couldn’t honestly be this self-absorbed and psychotic could he?

“I was afraid of you, idiot! I was trying to stay out of your way so you’d leave me alone!”

“Bullshi-”

“Bill!? Is that you man? What are you doing over there?” A voice in the distance (one of his friends, no doubt) called over and he unknowingly let your arm go. You didn’t wait a second as you bolted from under him, running away as if your life depended on it.

You didn’t stop running until you got to your dorm, immediately getting ready for bed without a word to anyone. Sleep evaded you, of course, the very time you needed to escape your thoughts the most. They kept going back to a certain tiger.

Had he really been pining after you all these years? Was he seriously so fucked up he thought torturing you was a way to your heart? Was this all apart of some elaborate scheme to humiliate even further?

You couldn’t be sure as the same questions played on loop through your mind. The only thing you could be sure of was you’d never been kissed like that before. Your lips still tingled defiantly with the ghost of his touch. You wanted to despise him. You had despised him. And nothing about that had changed except now you knew what a good kisser he was.

You groaned and buried your face into your pillow. You needed to get him out of your mind. Years of abuse couldn’t be wiped away in one evening.

So why didn’t the butterflies in your stomach go away?

///////////

AN: I wasn’t sure what I wanted the endgame to be so I just ended here.

[jacquiarno]

Happy 1 Year Anniversary to Genshin Impact! 🥳 💖

It was hard to choose only 10 screenshots out of the many I’ve taken, so I decided to share some memorable moments for me on the very first day I started playing, which was launch day. I had heard of the game months before from a gaming channel I follow, I thought it looked like a fun jrpg, so I decided to sign up for the pre-registration, and not long before it was going to be released was when I learned it was a mobile gatcha type of game. My mine was blown that this game was going to be free and that these types of games have come this far, because to me it looked and played like a regular jrpg.

I didn’t get to play for too long because I was also in the middle of finishing up the storyline for the current expansion of Final Fantasy XIV, which I play during the evening when my partner is home from work. So I was able to play again during the day time the next day and it was also my birthday, my 30th birthday. I was unfortunately spending it alone because my state in my country was in a long lockdown and lucky for us my partner could still continue to go to work, all I had to do on this day was play Genshin Impact. So this game means a lot to me, because it did really helped during that time and made my birthday still feel special. 🥰 And I am also spending this 1 year anniversary and my birthday tomorrow in lockdown yet again, but at least I have Genshin Impact still, haha. 

Here’s to another year! 😁 Also hopefully next year’s anniversary will have better rewards, ey.

Some information on me to do with this game if anyone is curious. I am currently AR 57, my main dps is Kaeya, but I like to mix it up now and then. I am a solo player due to my latency being an Australian playing on the US servers, but I generally like playing games alone anyway, so it’s okay. Although if I could play with others, it would be nice to make friends who adore this game as much as me, so I might try in the future if anyone (25+) wants to play with someone with 230-240 latency, haha.

My favourite elements are Cyro, Hydro, and Electro, while my favourite weapons are catalysts, polearms, and swords. I am waiting patiently for the day for a Hydro polearm user and a Cyro catalyst user, maybe a bit impatiently, haha

My first 5 star was Keqing from the standard banner back before I learned about the differences between the banners, haha, and my first 5 star on a character was Klee. I have spent money on the game on some character banners I really wanted and on the Welkin and was treating it like a “subscription”, but these days I am f2p again due to not having much money to splurge on myself anymore, bills always come first, people! 

My favourite region is of course Mond, and my favourite characters are basically the main ones from there, especially Kaeya (he and his brother Diluc’s story is one of the ones I’m most attached and interested in to see what happens next) and Lisa. I miiiiiiight simp a little for them also, haha. But I also like Beidou and Ganyu, and of course Zhongli, buuuuut I really do like them all, there isn’t a character I dislike. Oh and I still don’t have Diluc, who is the only character I really want at this point (and a Mona would be nice). It might be driving me a little up the wall and I might have been foolishly hoping Mihoyo for the 1 year would let us have a 5 star character of our choice. Ha ha ha haaaa.........

I do like some of the shipping in this game, but sometimes the fandom has been weirdly obsessive and aggressive about the shipping (especially people who ship Kaeya and Diluc, even if they weren’t adopted brothers, the fandom is aggressively sexual about them, and a lot of them being straight girls treating it as a fetish as well, it freaks me out), so I’m not as much into it unless it’s the characters with the travelers and they are the adult characters. But I will reblog a sneaky Beidou x Ningguang and Lisa x Jean when I’m feeling extra thirsty for lgbtqia content, haha.

Alright, I think that’s enough rambling for now and to anyone who has read all of this, I’m sorry for taking up a lot of your time with my long rambles, haha, lockdown has given me too much time, but thank you for reading! 😘 💖 

[merflk]

if your cascade, ocean wave blues come.

main pairing: ginny weasley x blaise zabini background pairings: neville longbottom x astoria greengrass, percy weasley x pansy parkinson, oliver wood x marcus flint words: 6021 link: ao3 soundtrack: peace - taylor swift

Every wedding she’s attended since the war reminds her of Bill and Fleur’s.

She can’t help it. No matter the venue, or the people getting married, or the guests attending, every single time she’s pulled back into that tent in her parents’ backyard.

It was bad the first few times. The war sparked a lot of tragedy, but the war ending made people feel like taking the leap together. In the past seven years, she’s been to thirteen weddings total. The first time, it was like she was transported back into the war in the middle of the ceremony. She had a quiet panic attack that no one noticed and, eventually, got home absolutely plastered. After that happened a second time, she realised that it was a wedding thing. So for a little bit she attended none.

That didn’t last very long. Hard to get to wedding number fourteen otherwise.

The thing that saved her was her camera. As it turned out, taking pictures was a ton of fun, and she was kind of good at it. At first, it was because she ignored every single ‘rule’ photography had. She paid next to no attention to classic perspective and lighting. She just went ahead and snapped. People said it was artistic. That made her feel a little proud, so she kept taking them.

At some point, the camera became an extension of herself. And she became a photographer.

Now, wedding photography is like a little treat. She only does it for friends and family, not as an actual career choice, choosing to stick to other subjects for that. When Neville asked if she would take the pictures for his wedding to Astoria, she agreed to it immediately. They’re having a spring wedding, full of flowers and sunshine, and now that she’s standing here, looking around, she feels free from Bill and Fleur’s wedding for the first time.

Ginny smiles and snaps a picture of Harry, Ron and Hermione, who are laughing loudly near the buffet. The wedding is outside, in the large garden of the Greengrass estate. As far as Ginny knows, it took a lot of convincing to get Astoria’s parents on board with her marrying Neville, but with the help of her sister Daphne (who was a grade A politician) they had managed to figure something out.

The gardens are huge, and the wedding is smack in the middle of them, so the house seems pretty far away from here. Even so, she can still make out its luxurious white exterior. Neville is marrying into big money. But…

Ginny glances over at Neville and Astoria, who are quietly dancing in the middle of the dance floor, their foreheads pressed together. The hem of Astoria’s dress is slightly smudged with mud, and she has three flowers in her hair. It’s like they’re their own little sun with the amount of love and happiness radiating from them. The other dancing couples orbit them, basking in their light.

She takes a picture.

Even if Astoria’s parents never accepted Neville, even if they had disowned their daughter like they’d originally threatened to do, neither of them would have wavered. They would have had a tiny wedding somewhere in a forest, and Ginny would have taken the exact same picture there.

Damn, love is kind of beautiful.

Thinking of Neville and Astoria as the sun puts the wedding in a different light, though. Ginny looks around carefully, looking at the way that groups of people move together through the space. Although this wedding is one between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, that mixing of houses doesn’t extend to the party guests. Now that she’s looking for it, Ginny notices the way that there are clusters of isolated guests spread out. A couple of former Slytherins here, a few former Gryffindors there. There are two or three places where the houses meet, and of course there are people of all houses here. Hannah Abbott is chatting with Romilda Vane. Padma Patil is having a very playful conversation with George. Pansy Parkinson says something to Percy as she steals his glass of champagne right from his hands. But, afterwards, they move towards their own group of people – Percy to Fred and Angelina, Pansy to Daphne and Blaise Zabini.

When Ginny follows her with her gaze, her eyes land on Zabini for a moment, and she catches him looking back at her. Perhaps it would be more fair to say that he catches her looking at him. As a reflex, finding the perfect excuse, Ginny lifts up her camera and takes a picture of the three of them from a distance.

When she looks at the screen briefly to check the photo, she notices that Blaise is smiling in it, looking straight into the camera. He looks so good that she wonders if that was his reflex – put on the model face. He probably has modelled for something or other, right? She thinks she heard that rumour somewhere at some point. That his parents live in Italy and he’s done some modelling there after the war. No, wait – just his mom. She’s notoriously remarried a bunch of times. Lady Zabini is a bad bitch.

“Did it come out well?”

Ginny jumps and almost drops her camera, like she’s been caught red-handed doing something embarrassing.

When she looks up, Blaise Zabini is right in front of her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his perfectly-tailored suit and a smile on his face that tells her he knows exactly why she just almost jumped out of her skin.

Get it together, Ginny, she scolds herself. You’re the wedding photographer, for Merlin’s sake. You’re just doing your job. He can’t prove anything.

“Yeah, I got a good one,” she says with a polite smile, “Astoria expressly asked me to take some extra pictures of the friends and family today. I think she’s making an album.”

Blaise snorts, and his smile softens for a moment. “Sounds like her.”

His response piques her curiosity a little bit. “Are you close with the family?”

“I suppose.” He smiles at her, something sly that makes her feel like they’re sharing a secret. “We’re all pretty tight-knit.”

Ah. So he’s aware of it too, hm?

“I can tell.” Ginny looks around again. “People stick together.”

Blaise sighs. “People are obsessed with the comfort zone.” He scrutinises her face for a moment, and Ginny has to think of ice water to keep from getting flustered. This man has a very intense gaze.

Shark eyes, she thinks to herself.

“Not you, though, aren’t you?”

It’s supposed to be a compliment, she thinks, but it feels undeserved. “I’m not so sure,” she tells him honestly, “If that was really the case, maybe I wouldn’t be standing behind a screen the entire time.” She holds up her camera.

Blaise hums softly, a deep, warm sound. Unexpectedly, Ginny feels something inside of her light up.  

“But you’re brave,” he presses, “With that, uh… Gryffindor spunk?”

She laughs, and he smiles like that was what he was angling for in the first place.

“I guess. At least I can be honest about it. Not sure if that’s the Gryffindor spunk, but well.”

“So maybe it’s the Weasley?”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “I’d like to think it’s the Ginny.”

He tilts his head. “Fair enough. It’s admirable, in any case.” He grins. “And kind of sexy.”

She laughs again, the flame inside of her glowing brighter. She wonders if that’s how love works – if a sun like Neville and Astoria makes all the other stars brighter too. Maybe she’s getting swept up in the atmosphere. But…

She looks over Blaise curiously. “Smooth,” she teases.

He’s still smiling at her, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I tend to speak my mind.”

“I like that.”

“Good. Can I get you something to drink?”

She can’t help but laugh again. She likes how obvious he’s being about it. It’s bold.

“Sure,” she says, “But no alcohol. I’m on the job.”

“Ah, yes,” he grins, “We can’t have you distracted now, can we, miss Weasley?”

“Thank Merlin I have an iron will.”

He chuckles. “We’ll see about that.”

She stares straight back at him, issuing a challenge. “Don’t tempt me.”

***

The next wedding sucks.

And, no, it’s not because things didn’t work out between Blaise and her. That has nothing to do with it. It’s fine. She’s fine.

It’s not even like it lasted very long. They dated for three months, then were together for eight. That’s less than a year. Nothing to write home about.

Of course, that had been one of the biggest issues: home. She hadn’t expected her parents to be so against her dating Blaise. He continuously made a bad impression on them. It was in the way he talked, the way he walked, the things he did, the things he said… Blaise and her family just didn’t match.

She didn’t do much better with his family. Lady Zabini is an incredible woman in her own right, but she definitely can’t stand Ginny’s attitude.

But that should have been fine. If it were real, they could have worked around it. Instead, they just fell apart.

Maybe we don’t want the same things in life, was their conclusion, maybe we’re too different.

Now, almost a full year later, she can admit that maybe they are too similar. Both too stubborn for their own good. Both too fucking scared of all of it. The real commitment, the intimacy, the vulnerability. Maybe it wasn’t that it didn’t work, it was just that they weren’t…

They weren’t ready.

But how the fuck were they supposed to know that?

It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out. It happens. It’s fine.

Ginny lifts up her camera and takes a picture of her parents, the biggest traitors in history, who are laughing and chatting with Pansy in her gorgeous white dress. Pansy managed to do what Blaise couldn’t: she completely won over the Weasleys, despite her Slytherin heritage.

It probably had something to do with Percy’s attitude as well. Percy saw the way her parents treated Blaise, and when he started dating Pansy he wouldn’t stand for that kind of behaviour. He refused to talk to them until they gave her a fair chance. Ginny remembers a family dinner which ended in a very uncomfortable screaming match. When it came down to it, Percy had screamed that it didn’t fucking matter whether Pansy was a bitch or not. She was his. And if they could accept him for who he was, they very well could except the girl he loved as well. And that was that.

That night, Ginny kept her mouth shut. She regrets that more than anything. But maybe the fact that her parents didn’t like Blaise was just the perfect excuse not to bring him home to them. Not to let him get that close.

Frustrated, Ginny grabs one of the nearby waiters and downs a flute of champagne. These days, she kinds of hates herself.

She can forgive herself for the shitshow that was her relationship with Blaise Zabini. She can forgive herself for her mistakes. She can even be proud of what she’s learned from the whole experience. She knows more about who she is and what she wants now than ever before.

She just can’t stand that she’s still so fucking sad about it.

She locks eyes with Blaise over the rim of her empty champagne flute and for a moment the world stops turning. They look at each other. He arches one of his perfect eyebrows, and she remembers the moment she told him that she doesn’t drink on the job like it happened three minutes ago. She flushes in shame.

But fuck him, honestly.

She represses the urge to flip him off, hopes she conveys the emotion with her gaze, and walks the fuck away.

She absolutely hates that they now move in the same circles more than they did before. Since Pansy and Percy got engaged, every party she’s been to has seen a number of Slytherins that she would have never been able to predict hanging out with. Moreover, they’re great. They’re fun. People are falling in love all over the place. It’s kind of beautiful. But it would be so nice to just not see Blaise for a little while.

He knows her better than she would like, so she knows he’s aware that she hasn’t been doing great since their break-up. Sure, she’s been going to therapy, which was about fucking time, and that’s been very helpful, and she’s been learning a lot about herself, but it’s all been so exhausting and it shows. It shows on her face, it shows in her art, it shows in the state of her relationships. She’s lost a bunch of friends rather suddenly, but she’s kept the important ones close-by (Luna has been an actual saint) and she thinks that’s fine for now. Weirdly, she’s grown pretty close to Percy through it all.

He’s a little bitch, of course, and doesn’t let her get away with anything, but he sticks around anyway. And that’s just how her brother is, she supposes. She’s pretty sure he’s really annoyed with her most of the time, but he’s there anyway. He picks her up for brunch. He responds to the memes she sends him. He lets her make one harsh comment about Blaise every few weeks, and if she tries to do more he tells her to stop deflecting and take some responsibility for her life. It stings, but it’s a sting she welcomes. She needs a Percy in her life.

Just one, though. That’s enough. And sometimes, she really needs a break.

She takes a picture of him now, standing with some of his friends near the back of the room. He has a good, solid smile on his face, one that makes him look like their dad, and he’s clearly enjoying himself. She’s happy for him. The ceremony went well. Pansy looks like a fucking dream. Everyone’s behaving themselves. She might actually be the biggest problem factor at the entire event, nursing her little grudges, and she feels like she’s done a decent job of keeping that under wraps.

She glances at Blaise again. He’s talking to a woman at the bar, and she hates him. She hates it. She hates this. She hates that she cares. The woman is gorgeous. Maybe she should walk over there and hit on her. That would be a double win – hot lady and sticking one to her ex.

She doesn’t like the bitterness of her own thoughts, and represses the itch to get more alcohol in her system. It’s her brother’s wedding. She’s not going to get smashed. He deserves better, and she’s definitely not going to give Blaise the satisfaction.

She points her camera at Percy again, but he’s already looking at her with a frown on his face, annoyance flashing across his features.

Ginny looks down in surprise, wondering if she spilled something on her dress or something, but she looks fine. Still, when she looks back up, Percy is stalking towards her.

He didn’t read her mind, did he? No. No, he can’t do that. He doesn’t have the… Can he do that?

“You’re doing that thing,” he accuses her when he reaches her.

“What thing? I have several things.”

They’ve done in depth analyses of all of them. Him, accusing her of being a brat. Her, impatiently explaining to him that some coping mechanisms and behavioural patterns aren’t pretty. All over a bottle of whiskey in the middle of the night.

She’d never imagined she would one day be the closest to Percy out of all of her brothers. But here they are.

Percy shoves his hands into his pockets. “The thing where you look like you’re trying to set someone on fire by sheer force of will.”

She is trying to set someone on fire by sheer force of will.

But she’s not going to admit that to him.

“Come on, you couldn’t pick out a look like that from all the way over there, that’s ridiculous. At most you saw me glaring a little bit.”

Percy doesn’t let up on his accusatory stare, so Ginny shows him the palms of her hands in defeat.

“Look, I’m trying, okay? I’m doing alright, aren’t I? I’m not bothering anyone. You’re the only one who picks up on these things. And you can’t tell me that you’re not having the time of your life. You’re practically glowing.”

He is. He looks healthier than he has in years. Pansy makes him wear fashionable glasses, and he has leaned into all the better aspects of himself since they got together. Now, having just married her, he looks proud and satisfied, like a cat in the sun.

“As you should, by the way.” Ginny nods her head in Pansy’s direction. “She looks like a dream.”

He follows her gaze. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Percy smiles like he has a secret. Ginny wants to shake him until he shares it. Instead, she focuses on how seeing him happy kind of makes her happy too.

She nudges him with her elbow. “I’m fine. I’m not setting anyone on fire. Go dance with Mrs Parkinson-Weasley over there.”

He looks back at her, but she can tell he’s already halfway to Pansy’s side. “Don’t set anyone on fire,” he warns her.

“Promise,” Ginny grins.

She doesn’t set anyone on fire after that. If she’s still thinking about it, no one else calls her out for it. She gets through the night, her brief chat with Percy fuelling her determination to be okay for him. This is not the time and place to wallow. Maybe the time for wallowing is pretty much over in general. Maybe it’s time for her to finally take the next step towards growth by letting go of some of this bitterness over that one failed relationship.

Perhaps she could meet someone new.

***

She probably would have been alright after that if it weren’t for Blaise motherfucking Zabini.

Initially, she’s off to a great start. By the end of Percy and Pansy’s wedding, she had taken one picture of Blaise, where he was smiling into the camera with his arm around Theo, and she’d given him a brief nod to let him know it turned out the way she knew he liked. He was nearly floored by the gesture, she’s pretty sure, but he nodded back. That was progress.

After that, it was almost like they could become friends. At the very least acquaintances. She had lost contact with most of their mutual friends at that point, but she ran into him when she wanted to show up for Percy. Percy had practically disappeared into Pansy’s friend group at that point. The only person he really stayed close with outside of them and his direct family was Oliver. Of course, it helped that Oliver and Marcus finally stopped bullshitting each other and admitted that their rivalry was perhaps more of a romantic-tension thing than anything else by that point.

But for Ginny it mostly meant that she spent a night every few weeks in the presence of Blaise and maybe six to ten other people. Pansy and Percy had moved after their wedding, but their new place was only slightly bigger than their former one, so there really was no avoiding each other on nights they hung out.

It helped with some of the lingering bitterness. But it also kept him in her orbit. And that just made it very clear that Blaise Zabini? He’s impossible to forget.

Every time she wasn’t annoyed with him, she liked everything that came out of his mouth. When they bantered, she felt alive. When he looked her up and down as she entered the room, she couldn’t keep herself from grinning.

She missed him.

That wasn’t new. She knew that she missed him. It didn’t mean anything. At least, it didn’t change anything. They didn’t work. She realised why. She missed him. She wasn’t falling for anyone new. The facts weren’t great, but not a threat in any way.

Except that some nights, when she was more sober than she would have liked to admit afterwards, that feeling of missing him crossed the line into exceptionally dangerous territory.

I want him, she’d admit to herself, I want him for myself again.

During nights like that, it was especially nice to have Oliver there. She could distract herself by bringing up Quidditch with Oliver and Marcus and then the night would fly by. In the end, they grew rather close.

So, yes, of course, when Oliver asked her to do the photography for their wedding, she happily agreed.

So here she is at another wedding.  

Admittedly, she’s having a pretty great time. Oliver and Marcus decided to have their wedding on a small island off the coast of Scotland, underneath the wide open sky. There isn’t a theme, but, just like with Neville and Astoria’s wedding, Ginny manages to find something like a theme – freedom. Both men flew into the ceremony on their brooms. There are aerial artists at the reception. The air smells of salt and seaweed and a hearty wind has been blowing through the clusters of guests since the moment they stepped onto the island.

Some of the guests are complaining, running after hats or constantly brushing their hair out of their faces. But most of them are enjoying breathing a little deeper than normally, feeling the fresh ocean air fill up their lungs and making their minds expand beyond the walls they usually find themselves enclosed in.

The wind makes Ginny’s job a little harder, since it’s hard to catch people being photogenetic with hair in their faces, but she likes a challenge. Moreover, with conditions like these, the good shots she does take aren’t just good – they’re brilliant.

She’s caught Oliver and Marcus a couple of times, grinning brightly and holding hands. They fit each other so well that it perplexes her sometimes. Every time that happens, she feels her gaze wander, looking for the shark-eyed man who recalibrates her sense of gravity.

She tries not to. It’s just so hard not to indulge – Blaise looks like a Greek hero, briefly sequestered on some island or other while he is on his way back home to Athens. The ceremony was in the morning, at eleven, so the party is in the middle of the day. Although the sky isn’t as blue as it was this morning, instead turning a cloudy light-grey, the day is still warm and as wonderful as they could have hoped for. The island is rocks and weeds, mostly, so sand isn’t much of an issue, and since the island isn’t lived on, it’s like they’re out in a piece of wildness.

Blaise has taken off his jacket, like most of the men who are bothered by the heat and inspired by the free feeling on the island. Most of the women have taken their heels off and are walking around bare-foot. It’s like they’re all letting their hair down and taking a break from social conventions, even while politely asking after each other’s families and addressing people by their formal titles.

She catches someone teasingly calling Neville ‘professor’ and looks over to see him grinning at Hannah, who is holding Millicent’s hand. With a smile, Ginny brings up her camera and snaps a picture of them.

Then she returns her attention to Blaise.

He’s grinning with Draco and Adrian. Adrian and he are bare-footed already, and Draco is toeing of his shoes, leaning against Adrian to keep his balance. Marcus calls out a jab to them and Draco flips him off good-heartedly.

Blaise looks up and catches her gaze like he was expecting her to be looking at him.

“Gin!” he calls out, making her chest ache, “Please, this has to be memorialised!”

Ginny pushes through the pain and laughs, taking a photo of Draco stumbling around with one shoe and a stark white sock in his hand. Blaise lets out a cackle just as she takes it, and when she checks the picture her eyes are immediately drawn to the perfect, joyful expression on his face. No matter what he’s doing, she has never managed to take a bad picture of this stupidly photogenetic asshole.

The second she sees the picture, she knows she’s going to cherish it. Something about this feels right. She’s here with her friends and family, and everyone is happy, and the air is as fresh as the first day of the world.

She loves him, she realises. It’s all very simple suddenly. She loves him.

And, with that, everything doesn’t feel so right anymore. Because even though they’re all here, together, and Blaise is right there for her to smile at and touch, and she loves everyone, and she loves him, she isn’t with him. They’re just existing in the same space.

Tears blur her vision and she flinches. Panic shoots through her at the thought of everyone being able to see, so she whips her hair in front of her face with a nod and backs away from the scene, her fingers shaking. She needs more air.

Ginny walks briskly towards the edge of the party, where the people are more spread out and engaged in deep conversations. She finds a nice rock and sits down on it, pretending to look through the images on her camera while she tries to find her bearings.

Well fuck. This is just excessive, isn’t it? Love him? When the fuck did that happen?

Somewhere between spending a year in his arms and another year wanting him back, she guesses. Still, aren’t you supposed to notice when you start loving someone? She definitely didn’t start just now. So why hasn’t she noticed before?

Fuck. It doesn’t matter. It’s going to take a while for her to process this. The best thing she can do right now is gather herself up and get back to the party. She’s going to have to put this off.

Ah, crap, Percy is going to have a field day with this.

“Are you alright?”

Blaise is frowning down at her, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking wind-swept and perfect.

Of all the goddamn times for him to be considerate…

“Hm?” she says, frantically trying to get her erratic heartbeat under control.

He purses his lips. “You alright?” he repeats.

She forces a smile. “Yup. Lovely ceremony, didn’t you think?”

She couldn’t make it more obvious that she’s trying to change the subject, but if he’s in a considerate mood, then maybe-

“Cut the crap, Ginny.” He sits down beside her, cocking his head in her direction. “What’s wrong?”

Ah, hell.

“I don’t want to get into it.” She returns her attention to her camera.

He nudges her. “You can talk to me.”

There’s something weird about his voice, so she looks back up at him. The wind blows her hair into her face, obscuring him. But she can make out the expression on his face – it matches his tone.

Nervous. A little hopeful.

Her lips part in surprise, and suddenly she is all ears for whatever he has to say. The monster of hope roars up in her chest, threatening to swallow her whole.

“Why?” she asks, “Do you have something you wanted to talk about?”

Blaise freezes for a moment and then glances to the side, in the direction of their friends and family. He’s getting somewhere, though. She can tell.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally says, looking back at her. Now that he’s made up his mind, he completely zones in on her. From one moment to the next, it’s like the rest of the world around them doesn’t exist anymore.

He has a look on his face that she remembers very clearly. He’s hovering right on the edge of vulnerability – of letting her in. Most of their relationship had been spent dancing on that knife’s edge.

But this time, he does something that he has never done before: he takes a shaky breath and plunges right off that edge.

“Can we try this again?” he asks, his expression open and pleading, “Us?”

Something inside of her is pulled taut. “You’ve been thinking about that?”

“Yes.”

There’s no hesitation or reluctance in his expression. She traces the lines of his face with her eyes, looking for anything even remotely unsure. Despite how he may present himself, Blaise is an overthinker. He overcompensates for his insecurities by pretending to be sure about things.

But right now…

She’s learned to read him, over the years. She’s seeing nothing of that now.

He’s serious.

The corners of her mouth turn up into a smile as hope turns into elation. “Yes,” she tells him.

His gaze flits across her face, and she knows he’s looking for the same things she was looking for just now. He won’t find any. She’s never been more sure about anything in her life.

“Yes,” she repeats, reaching out to take his hand. And because he has shown her how to do it, she lets her walls down for a second and squeezes his hand. “Please.”

A smile similar to her own unfurls on his face and he grips her hand more tightly. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” she states with a nod. She starts laughing.

He reaches for her like he can’t stop himself, pressing his hand into her cheek and scooting closer towards her so he can press their foreheads together, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Ginny laughs again, so overwhelmingly happy in that moment. She turns her head to press her lips to the palm of his hand, then moves back to press her forehead square against his.

She’s still holding his other hand. She never wants to let it go.

She’s not going to.

***

“Smile,” he whispers into her cheek, his hand pressing against her lower back.

“My jaws hurt,” she complains, but her lips curve up into a smile anyway.

She listens to Blaise chuckle while she poses for the camera, trying not to flinch when the flash goes off. The photographer looks at the image for a moment and then sticks up his thumb with a grin. Ginny gives him a polite nod and turns to Blaise as he walks away.

“That shot did not need a flash.”

Blaise smiles at her and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You can lecture him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, I’m going to be lounging in a pool in Italy,” she corrects him, brightening up at the thought.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be passed out until three,” he correct her in turn, grinning at her.

She elbows him for the innuendo she knows is in there, but he’s right. Even if they do nothing but sleep tonight, she’s going to be absolutely floored tomorrow. All of the preparations have taken a bigger toll on her than she expected, and this day is very wonderful, but also very long.

Worth it, though.

She places a hand on Blaise’s cheek, looking at him while his gaze glides over their surroundings. People seem to be having fun, at least. The twins are drunk, which is rude, she supposes, but she just thinks it’s great. Plus, it’s hilarious to see their genuine interactions with all of Blaise’s stuck-up cousins. She’s pretty sure they’ve pranked at least three of them already.

She joins Blaise in his surveillance of the scene. They’re standing in the middle of their own backyard, where a dance floor has been put out, surrounded by fairy lights that her father insisted on buying for them. She kicked off her shoes before their first dance and Blaise keeps playing with her hair, which probably looks nothing like the elegant up-do that Fleur helped her with earlier that day.

She has never been happier in her life.

Everyone is there. Every single couple she’s ever photographed for, all of their family, their friends… Even Lady Zabini has a small smile on her face now, despite her company. She insisted on paying for the entire wedding, so Blaise and Ginny decided to have it in their backyard to spite her. Although Lady Zabini has come around to Ginny since she and Blaise got back together, she’s still stupidly hoity-toity about power and status when it comes down to it, and isn’t too happy about her son marrying into the Weasley family.

Well, she’ll have to get used to it. Against all odds, Blaise is a Weasley now.

And she’s a Zabini.

 She looks back at her husband – her husband – and lets that sink in for another moment. Before she’s through, one of Blaise’s cousins has come up to congratulate them personally, and she’s swept back into polite conversation. As soon as the guy leaves, she groans and scrunches up her nose.

“We should have eloped.”

Blaise fondly rolls his eyes at her. “You’re the one who didn’t want to.”

“I’m an idiot.”

I told you that you’d hate a big wedding.”

“I don’t hate it. I love it. I would just also love to sit down.”

He shakes his head at her and her gaze drifts down to the new ring on his finger. After months and months of planning, today finally came. The ceremony is over. She’s all set. For life. It’s incredible.

Blaise pulls her against himself and presses a kiss to her crown. “I told you,” he says again.

She sighs. “Fine. You were right.”

“I usually am.”

               She sticks out her tongue at him. Behind her, she hears the click of a camera. She turns her head to spot the photographer, not able to resists checking whether he’s doing an okay job. But Blaise catches her and sweeps down to kiss her. He doesn’t hold back either – he kisses her thoroughly, until some of the guests start cheering and whistling at them. Then he pulls back and kisses the tip of her nose before standing up straight again with a satisfied grin.

She can’t help but laugh at him. Ridiculous, perfect man.

“Let the man do his job,” he teases her.

“I am!”

“You’re hovering.”

She gasps. “You take that back.”

“It’s true.”

“Goddammit.”

He’s right. She needs to let this go. The next wedding she attends, she’ll be able to take her own pictures again. She’ll use all of the tools she likes best and play with the light and look for the best angles. She’ll have her settings just right and will get down into the dirt to get that perfect shot. For now, she just has to enjoy her own wedding for a change. It’s going to be the last one she’ll ever have, if it’s up to her.

She smiles at her husband. “Well, then, Zabini. How about you distract me?”

“Am I a joke to you? What have I been doing for the past hour?”

“Your best, I’m sure.”

“Ohohohoho… You did not.”

He pulls her against him, making her laugh, and drags her back onto the dance floor for another lazy waltz. She presses her cheek against his chest and closes her eyes, feeling the heat of his body against hers, the thump of his heart; her favourite sound. Around them, the party goes on, filling the evening air with drunken laughter and laid-back conversations. Blaise is humming along with the song, his chin on top of her head. Everything settles into place for a brief moment.

According to some people, time isn’t real, so this moment will last forever. Even when the night passes and she gets on a plane to Italy, holding her husband’s hand. When she spends the next few weeks lounging in his arms and making him feed her grapes and bruschetta. When they wake up on a Sunday morning twenty years from now. When she’s old and brittle and every memory she’s ever had begins to fade.

She will still be right here. With him.

[straightfacedstrangeness]

Not that anyone asked (but seriously I’d LOVE for someone to talk to me about PokeSpe (just no spoilers past vol 13)) but since I made an offhand remark about my Top 5 favorite characters, it occurred to me that I actually DO have approximately 5 top favorite characters, and I’m procrastinating on work, so I’m gonna ramble

**just in case, note that a lot of this will revolve around my childhood experience with gender in a “I’m AFAB (and present-day me still identifies as a cis girl) but I don’t fit in with what media is telling me girls are like” way, a brief childhood feeling of homophobia, and probably general TMI about my opinions and emotions throughout my life, haha

1. Yellow

Okay, so, I was a little kid when Pokemon Adventures started coming out in English, back when manga was released as single-issue monthly comic books instead of complete volumes.  So I was rereading the same chapters over and over while anxiously awaiting the rest of the story (and wound up missing a bunch of issues anyway)

I enjoyed the RGB arc, I thought it was fun, but I didn’t LOVE the series until Yellow showed up.  At that age my ideal crush was “a cute boy my age who would be nice to me” and Yellow was presented to the reader as a cute boy my age who was sweet and kind and gentle, but also good in a fight, as all shounen protags must be.  Extra bonus points because they had just a few physically weak Pokémon and tried to fight battles in a way that minimized damage to their own and the opponent’s Pokémon, which meant they fought in a particularly smart and clever way.  And I was considered “smart” for being good at school, so being a SMART cute “boy” my age who would be nice to me, Yellow was PERFECT.  I mean, I loved the arc in general because of the clever battles, and the mystery of what had happened to Red, why these people were after Pikachu, why Yellow was so secretive about themself and their mission, etc was really engaging.  But also I adored Yellow as a character and partly in a “I wonder if ‘he’ would like me??” kind of way X’D  So to my tiny child self who didn’t even know it was possible to like-like someone of the same gender (because I hadn’t read Cardcaptor Sakura yet XD ), the reveal that Yellow was a “girl” was devastating—I had to cross out floating hearts on at least one drawing of us holding hands (scandalous!) and, while kind of stunned and shaken for a while, decided that what I’d felt all along was a deep, intense desire to be friends X’D (which probably wasn’t too far from the truth since I was pre-puberty and later turned out to be asexual)

(Also note that I never got the RGB issue that had the chapter where Red helps a little ‘girl’ capture a Rattata—later proven to be Yellow’s backstory—so the gender reveal really came out of nowhere for me.)

But anyways, I still love Yellow as a character for all the above reasons, without the crush aspects because I’m way older than them now.

Also when I reread the series ten years ago, I finally realized “wait, aside from surprising the reader, there’s no real plot reason for Yellow to pretend to be a ‘boy’ except that Green told ‘her’ to—so why did ‘she’ do it?”...and because at that time I didn’t even know that nonbinary genders existed, I decided it was cus they had low self-esteem and pretending to be a different person gave them courage (the same reading I had for Mulan at the time).  These days I’m more inclined to “yeah, I think Yellow’s nonbinary,” but that other interpretation was deeply relatable to me and only made me love Yellow even more.

2. Bill

Bill’s definitely a character I’ve grown to love more as an adult, since I’ve gone from seeing myself as “a protagonist doing cool things” to “a side character just living their life who hopefully gets to do something once in a while.”  But as a kid and now, I like him mostly for the slapstick and goofy expressions and the (early chapters Viz translations) outrageous accent  X’D  My brain desperately craves endorphins and the best way to get em is through a good laugh.

But also, I liked that he was introduced as a goofy character-of-the-week who got into ridiculous trouble and had to be rescued, but then kept being brought back, was slowly built up to be the “smart sidekick who explains things,” and eventually got to the point where he was participating in big battles (the Yellow finale on Cerise Island).  I rambled about this in the tags of another post, but I liked that he was a character who was “weak” without being “useless.”  As a kid who was good at school, I was obsessed with being good at things and had developed a black-and-white view of the world where either you were “strong/smart” or “weak/stupid” to the point that failing or just being not-so-good at anything was devastating (it still kind of is), because that meant I was actually “weak/stupid” when I was supposed to be “strong/smart.”  So it was kind of awesome that this guy who kept getting into trouble and having to be rescued—and didn’t even want to BE part of the final battle—managed to hold his own and get through it and help out instead of being a burden that dragged everyone down.  Seriously, he used a MAGIKARP effectively—the Pokémon everyone makes fun of for being “useless” and he used its one attack to save his life!

(Bonus points for all this happening in contrast to my devastating childhood experience of stanning The One Girl Character in every popular shounen series, waiting desperately for her to get to do something in battle, and then her one spotlight episode revolved around her struggling because she was so weak...not only was that actually happening to a boy for once, it was actually happening in a more satisfying/empowering way :’D )

3. Gold

I have extremely specific tastes when it comes to “the dumb shounen/action movie protag,” because as a kid I hated it when the main character was “dumb” because I was “smart” (re: good at school) and people who were “dumb” shouldn’t deserve to be the main character and have all the cool powers and save the world and stuff.  As an adult, I hate it when male characters are dumb and/or jerks but it’s treated as fine or even sexy(??) and the other characters fawn over them, and I generally still kind of hate it when characters who are dumb and/or jerks get the big important role when there’s a female character RIGHT THERE who’s more competent (and OF COURSE she has to wind up falling in love with him)

But anyway, I have extremely specific tastes, and Gold is it  X’D  He’s the perfect combination of “unshakably confident in his own stupid/egotistic views” and “treated as annoying and/or comic relief by the rest of the cast” with a bonus dash of actually being really clever in battle (so my inner child goes “Ah yes, technically, he is ’smart,’ and therefore...worthwhile“)  Making me laugh while also impressing me is like the key to my heart.

4. Crystal

I’m too lazy to look it up, but when Viz was publishing Pokemon Adventures as monthly comics, they must have switched to publishing it as trade paperbacks only and/or had a huge gap between the end of Yellow and the start of GSC, because for YEARS I’d thought Yellow was the end of the series and was shocked the first time I saw later volumes.  (My dad was buying us the monthly issues at the local comic store, and either they wouldn’t have ordered the trade paperbacks or he wouldn’t have thought to check those shelves.)

Anyway, that’s a long lead-in to the statement of “Crystal would automatically be my #1 or #2 if I’d read her arc as a kid.”  She’s a girl, she wears pants, she’s EXTREMELY smart (genius-level “book-smarts” about every Pokémon’s behaviors and weaknesses PLUS being clever in a battle), was tough as nails (she KICKED her Pokéballs!!), had no interest in romance or her appearance, AND had a short arc about losing her confidence and training herself back up to full power.  I would have KILLED for a character like that when I was a little girl being told that “girls don’t like action shows like Dragon Ball Z” (but I was a girl and I did???) and that girls were supposed to be pretty and obsessed with fashion and dating, and that girls were never the main character of action series, just side characters who either did nothing or got one chance to do something and were pathetically weak (see above, and/or Sakura’s fight against Ino (Naruto), those couple filler eps where Téa/Anzu played Duel Monsters (Yu-Gi-Oh), Videl getting pummeled by Spopovich (DBZ), etc).

So anyway, she’s awesome, she’s exactly the type of character I would’ve loved as a kid.  The only reason she’s behind Gold here is because at my age, “makes me laugh” > “the kind of main character I used to wish I could be”

5. Green (the girl trainer...I’m just too loyal to the Viz version to call her “Blue”...)

I’m trying not to rehash the same “I’m a girl but none of the girls in my shows/comics are like me!” childhood woes over and over, haha, but as much as I always enjoyed Green for being extremely clever and outsmarting the boys and being funny when she did so, she always lost points with me for being “pretty” and flirting to get her way, because that put her in the box of “girls are supposed to be pretty and desired by boys and obsessed with their appearance and romance” that was so foreign and disheartening to me as a kid.

But her staredown with Ho-oh at the end of the GSC arc TOTALLY got me.  As a sad adult with anxiety, watching characters who are absolutely terrified overcome their fear, watching characters who are completely beaten down struggle back to their feet and keep fighting, is like my ultimate power fantasy.  That sequence genuinely had me in tears.

Also her bond with Silver is super precious, especially since that’s like the first time in the series we’ve seen her be genuinely emotional and vulnerable with someone instead of teasing or manipulating them.

Honorable mention: Sapphire

I haven’t gotten up to R/S in my reread yet, and I only read that arc once over like a weekend ten years ago, but I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be a Top Fave cus again there’s that “I'm not like other girls!” childhood feel  (last time I’m saying it, I promise)

It’s a story arc where one protag wants to fight the gyms and the other protag wants to win the beauty contests, but the one who wants to fight the gyms is the girl!!  And she’s the typical “dumb but extremely good at fighting” shounen protag but she’s the girl!!  She’s feral and illiterate and a total tomboy and wins all her fights and she’s a GIRL!!!!

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Anyway, those are my kids and my dude and my probably way-too-personal reasons why.  If you wanna reblog, reply, or send an ask about your own faves...please