#like i dont think about new marvel which leads me to not even searching for fics that have stuff related to new marvel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meruz · 10 months ago

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another ask post

i mean i also read it because a friend whos rly into queer SFF fiction circles recced it but she did kinda lead with "the writer used to write hs fanfic...tasmyn..taz...?" to which i replied

of COURSE I read the locked tomb because i heard taz had written a book. of course. ill consume most any media made by a beloved homestuck bnf. thats also why i played undertale. and read like..snotgirl. and idk... watched the new dub of neon genesis evangelion.

if u made homestuck fanwork 10 years ago and havent even made it since chances are I still remember and I love you for it.

sdlkfhsg its funny you sensed that because that drawing did in fact start kinda more........ well, I'd be lying if I said my hands never wrought a drawing toeing over the pg-13 line LOL...

NOT to say i have a secret stash of porn or anything. in general im more interested in the implication of sexuality or mature themes over any explicit depiction. like everything i draw is so softcore itd almost feel silly to make a nsfw acc for anything.

but im not rly jumping to post anything on main either bc i get the sense i have a lot of kids in my social media following. it varies from site to site and fandom to fandom but the themes in my work often circle around childhood, coming of age etc and in general i like stories about kids so the fandoms i draw for have a lot of kids in them. even stuff like IT (stephen king) which is about kids but isn't necessarily for kids.. there were a lot of kids in that fandom lol.

actually thats why ive been censoring swears in comics lately because the tmnt fandom comes across to me as a little young...IDK I've had MULTIPLE people ask me what "sodomize" means because of the joke in this post and I'm like... I Cannot be the one to explain this to you. you have to look it up on your own klfsdhsdg like i wouldn't be doing this if i were doing a comic for mgs or even homestuck wherein the characters textually swear constantly LOL but sometimes u gotta change tacks depending on the faces u see in the crowd yknow.

i HAVE been thinking abt drawing nsfw of sunspot/richard rider/kobak from x-men red just because that comic seemed to be really asking for it. who knows.. if the need rly arises maybe my separate account policy will change.

its rly more a matter of the fact that i havent read/watched much of any other iterations... im sure id like most lol. I like most things related to my interests regardless of quality. i rly like the marvel ultimate alliance games for instance. sometimes seeing my fave guy is enough he doesnt have to be well written LOL. i dont exactly have a wealth of free time tho thats the real impediment.

i did watch the 2007 movie on new years eve and found it quite charming overall. and i have read about 30-40 issues between the mirage and idw comics. still feels like im barely scratching the surface but i liked em. i rly want to read all the sophie campbell stuff bc i think her work is interesting. jason aaron will be a mixed bag i think lmao. i say as the worlds biggest Wolverine and the X-Men (2011) fan.

hmm this is kinda hard bc i feel like i naturally draw very loose and the hard part for me is tightening it up. maybe some suggestions tho...

1) hand excercises. i think its easy to forget this when many artists sit in front of the computer all day but drawing is a physical activity u do with ur actual...bodys...muscles lol. if u feel urself tightening up it might help to strech (any google search for "artist hand excercises" should yield good results) or do a page of loose practice strokes like..big circles. long lines. scribbles. that kinda thing. whatever feels good for ur hand. this is also just good to do as a general warm up before u sit down for any drawing sesh.

2) draw further away from the canvas. as a general rule...when ur painting traditionally you do the big strokes with your whole arm outstreched and a long handled brush. and when you do the details its smaller wrist movements and a shorter handled brush. so it might help to take a step back or push back from ur chair a little.. or hold ur tablet a little further away. and hold your pen further away from the nib.

3) change mediums / brush types. some brushes and mediums are more suited to loose sketching and some more inclined towards detail work. so changing ur tool could help. also! i personally have this problem where sometimes if im using a brush i feel really familiar with the pressure to make a "good" "finished" "perfect" drawing is greater... if i want to force myself to loosen up ill switch to a tool i dont use as often so it feels like the pressure is off. a lot of times for me this is switching from digital to traditional. but sometimes its switching from a small pen to a big marker. or a smooth pen to a textured one. or a nice brush to a shitty dried up marker.

but also every body is different so i dont think these tips will work for everyone. u should listen to what ur body and mind tell u and how drawing feels to you

bro just sign up and set it up i dont think theres much to it... i dont rly think too much abt my itch.io store because its digital goods so u just upload the file and let it do its thing. no distribution work needed on ur part. youll notice i barely even advertise my itch unless i have smth new on there lol.. its easy. but good luck!!!

idk if im the best person to ask this im more a comic fan than i am a comic professional... a comic hobbist.

well. scott mcclouds understanding comics and making comics are good books on the craft. i think i had to buy them for a class in art school once.

other than that idk just keep at it. comics are really laborious i think for a lot of people the hardest part is sitting down and doing it.

i think a lot of people have a very instinctive understanding of how to read comics and what they look like so whatever you think seems like good way to tell the story you have in mind, its probably right. if u get stuck, study comics that have done something similar. most people in comics are relatively self taught and actually it can be problematic bc you can tell when a lot of comic artists are all copying the same like 5 old white guys LMAO. but on the flip side if you make sure to reference and study broadly your comics will almost assuredly feel unique.

sorry im responding to this anyways. this is just a really nice ask. i like when people reference my older work bc i feel like sometimes theyre subtly implying it wasnt very good LMAOOO. but its true! at least compared to the work i make now ^^ and the fact that im still making art is whats keeping me from being embarassed abt how much of my old art just floats around online lmao im never ashamed to be growing and learning. isnt that a nice thought <3

#ask #too much art talk in this one

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moons-and-stars-and-shit · 4 years ago

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OKAY SO-

can i get a platonic matchup pleaSeEeE?

okay, so- lets talk about myself sdsnfnenxnf

My name is Jei, I use she/they pronouns, I am 5’11” and I ABSOLUTELY AM THE AWKWARD TALL KIND OF PERSON (I wish I wasn’t tho-). I have short curly hair, (RANDOM THOUGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS, DO YOU EVEN NEED TO KNOW HOW I LOOK FOR A P L A T O N I C MATCHUP? weeeeelll i am already here so, lets just keep going ig) I am like b i g IDK BAHSHAHSHABS

As you can see I am a bit uH chaotic (it is a daily thing but iDK TODAY I AM JUST OVER THE TOP) I am an ambivert, I am an INFP, Aries sun, Cancer moon and Sagittarius rising sbdsndns

I uHhhHh- I am very awkward in first meetings but if we have something in common I’ll ramble about our common interest which almost always leads to me talking about other stuff.

I am a Marvel fan if that’s uUuuh- important? I LOVE UM GOOD OMENS BAHSHAHZHA, i dOnt even know what i am talking about anymore but lets keep going BABDBAHZHA

I have a B I G variety of music taste, from 40s big band songs to uhhhHh lets just say ppcocaine(???

I get distracted w a y too easily, I tend to get lost on time

I LOVE TO DRAW AND TO WRITE (but i never have time to finish so me is very m a d >:))

My best subject is english, english teachers always love me for some effing reason :D

My favorite colors are orange, green, coffee? (COFFEE IS A COLOR? I FORGOT OMFG) OH SHOOT WAIT I HAD TO SEARCH IT UP, IT IS CALLED BROWN BAHAAHHAHAHA I AM SO STUPID, beigeEs and blaCk >:)

yeah, i like dark academia buT in a like chaotic rebel way if it is possible???????

AM I MAKING ANY SENSE NOW???? i am sleep deprived so i don’t really knoW

I tend to see the good in people (yes that includes bad people too, sadly), I have troubles speaking for myself in situations where people are troubling me,,,

What elseeee????

I am lazy sometimes, I’ll admit it 😌☝🏽 and it gets on my nerves:D (i am working on it tho)

All my time is sucked by school, I am an overachiever and adbanxnajxjs i cry cuz school u know? <3

And I think that’s it?????

THANK YOUUU, HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT

@burntbayleaf IM SORRY BUT WE NEED TO BE FRIENDS

Also yes my Aries sister 😩

Platonic Matchup

Nishinoya Yuu

How Y’all Met

Aight

So you rolled up into school with a FIRE marvel t-shirt

And nishinoya being a marvel fan himself took IMMEDIATE notice

So what did he do

Approach you of course 🙄✋

However...

It was quite awkward at first 🥲

He really just went up to you and was like

“Oh you like marvel? What’s your favorite movie, or do you prefer the comics?, OH Have how ever seen...”

And he just went on and on and on

But when he realized he was rambling he apologized and asked you the first question again

Now it was your turn to ramble on and on about your interests

But honestly noya just rolled with it

Rooooooollliiiinnnng Thunnndaaaa

After you both were done with your rambling

He invited you over to his house for a #MarvelMarathon

And who tf were you to say no

So you pulled up to his house and started the marathon

In the middle of said marathons noya’s phone started to ring

And what was his ringtone?

Ppcocains PJ

And what did you do when you heard this?

Sang along ofc

And noya was just in shock

But after overcoming his shock he started singing with you

Yeah...he missed that call

But who gives af! Y’all are having a concert rn!

The day bled into night and he offered for you to stay the night

Not wanting to walk home in the dark you agreed

And oml the night was just filled with movies, mini concerts, and junk food 👀

Ever since that night you and him have been attached at the hip

What You Have In Common

Well obviously you both like Marvel

And ppcocain

But you both have a chaotic energy that mashes well with each other

You both have small attention spans/ get distracted very easily 😀

Istg conversations with you two are all over the place

One minute it’s this subject then two seconds later it’s a different subject

Fun fact: you made him watch good omens with you and now he’s obsessed

He says he has a deep emotional connection with Crowley ❤️

Favorite Things To Do Together

Good lord

Honestly if he could just recreate your first sleepover

Life would be perfect

Because THATS his favorite thing to do with you

Just bonding over common interests

Whether that be with music, movies, hobbies

Whatever

No matter what you two do it’s always a party

OTHER THAN BEING CRAZY THO

He actually really likes to have drawing competitions with you

Even though he always loses 🥲

You’ve offered to not make it a competition

But he says that’s what make it fun :)

Random Hc

Oh your his personal tutor

100%

He needs help with school

Screw the teachers

Screw the tutors

There is only ✨you✨

He has also volunteered you as a tutor for the team :D

without your knowledge....

You two have weekly movie nights

But lately he’s just been binging good omens with you

Speaking of Good Omens 👀

That is YOUR show

Like if one of you even watch ONE episode without the other

All hell breaks lose

Ok off topic Hc but people think your the equivalent of asahi 🥲

Astrology

Independent Aries and collaborative Libra form a funny sort of friendship.

Aries tries convincing Libra to take chances, shake off criticism, and be more direct.

Libra constantly tells Aries to slow down, smell the flowers, and be more appreciative.

It's an odd couple type of relationship that can work extremely well.

Aries can learn the fine art of diplomacy from Libra, while Libra may become more assertive thanks to Aries.

While the Aries and the Libra are opposing each other from an astrological point of view, they can still become friends very fast.

The Aries admires how the Libra is graceful, stylish and funny, while the other way around, the latter truly likes how determined to take part in new adventures and always courageous their friend is.

Of course, the friendship between these two will sometimes be challenging because the Aries can get hurt seeing the Libra is flighty, while the latter may not like the way the former is pushy.

However, these two can easily make up and neither of them likes to hold a grudge.

Aesthetic

Chaotic ⚡️👹💥

Songs-

PJ - Ppcocain

Tokyo Drift - Teriyaki Boyz

Won’t Bite - Doja cat

My Axe - Insane Clown Posse

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu matchups #nishinoya #nishinoya yuu #noya #noya x reader #noya x y/n #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya x reader

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mythiica · 4 years ago

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amber astrolabe | ikevam | leonardo

The museum looms in front of you, practically swallowing you with its grand glory as it reaches for the sky. Sunlight sparkles in the new windows, yet to be touched by peoples’ hands as they stare into the street. Even from the outside, you can see the top of the arched glass roof letting natural light pour in.

You remember it when it was the train station and how you would sneak past the guards to climb the stairs hidden behind the walls. Tipping your head back, you squint hard against the bright sun to spot the window of your old room on the top floor.

It’s a bad idea to return to the museum– this beautiful building hosts so many memories that are not as wonderful. Still, against your better judgement, you pay your admission ticket like any other tourist that clamours through the doors of the Musée d'Orsay before melting into the crowd.

In honor of the museum's grand opening, more people have gathered to see the new displays for themselves. You were specifically interested in the exhibit that you had read about in the newspaper a few days prior. After nearly five decades, the lost works of a famous artist have resurfaced. A trove of sketches – namely hundreds of half-finished drawings of an unknown woman. Pieces of her face were scattered across blueprints, hidden on the backs of oil paintings, and even etched into the lacquer of strange wooden contraptions.

You walk past the main exhibit, not really having an interest in seeing the Mona Lisa again. Still, the painting smiles at you from over the churning sea of heads, as if she knows something you do not.

Now in the traveling exhibit, you take your time, pacing around to admire the art. You marvel at the broken wing of a plane that did not survive a test run, awe at the elaborate blueprint of a flying machine with gold sails, and even laugh at the obligatory comedic comment that this mystery artist must have had an obsession with someone.

However, from the corner of your eye, you notice something glinting in the spotlight just a few meters away. As you approach it, you can’t help but be a tad bit sad to see that it has lost its original shine over the years – in fact, you had held the astrolabe when it was brand new. The hands of the device point towards the end of the exhibit just beyond the corner, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you search your memory, thinking hard to collect the pieces of the past before you can fall against the events that transpired nearly a lifetime ago.

“Cara mia, close your eyes. I have a gift for you.”

“If you drop a screw in my hand again and say you found it behind my ear, I’m going to throw it at you!”

His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, but you close your eyes to humor him. Without wasting a moment, he takes your hand and presses a cold, circular object into your palm. “You can look now.”

Your eyes flutter open, but you don’t know what to say. “A pocket watch? Did you steal this from Arthur?!”

“No.” He pulls the lid back to reveal a much more complicated interior. You take a moment to admire the fine engravings around the edge of the disk before your eyes graze over the centre of the object: an oblong piece of metal resembling the hands of a clock stretch across the diameter, overlapping the intricate second layer that sits atop what looks like a miniature map of the world. It is a deep copper color, and you immediately think of his eyes. They are nearly the same shade of amber, so deep and intoxicating that you wonder if he made it like this on purpose. “It is an astrolabe.”

“Well, it looks like you took a watch and a compass and made some… strange hybrid. What does it do?”

When he cups his hand over yours, your breath catches in the back of your throat. His hands are so large and warm. “It’s used to calculate the position of the Sun and other stars in the sky. Here, I’ll show you.” Now, his fingers lace with yours, the astrolabe pressed between your palms. It fits there perfectly, as if it were made to be held by your hand and his.

The two of you step over the incredible mess that has accumulated over the past week. No matter how hard you try, this place always remains a mess. It is no use to scold him for it now, for he has something set in his mind – nothing you say or do will be able to draw his attention away from showing you what this strange device is capable of doing.

He allows you to climb up the winding staircase first.

What a gentleman.

Then again, it’s the perfect opportunity for him to place his free hand on your waist. To ensure you don’t fall, he explains with the slyest of smirks.

Upon reaching the roof of the building, he leads you to the large telescope pointing towards the night sky. A breeze ruffles through your clothes, so he pushes you between the device and his body. Warmth radiates from his chest, so you lean against him slightly as he explains what he is doing.

“This telescope is completely uncalibrated, alright? Cara mia, are you paying attention? Look inside. You’ll see that it is not pointing at anything memorable.”

You smile to yourself. He always is so passionate about his work. To humor him, you take a peek through the lense. There is only darkness.

“I see.”

“Now, if you’ll give me a moment…” Lifting the astrolabe to the sky, he fiddles with it, mutters to himself, and then changes a few settings on the telescope. It swings around to point at a seemingly equal void in the sky – you cannot see anything of importance against the night sky, but he nudges you slightly, prompting you to look through the lense once more.

“Is… is that Venus?”

“It is!”

You lean back and squint, trying hard to see a flicker of green against the black. However, your eyes are too weak to spot anything. “That’s very impressive.”

“Oh, but that’s not all!” He side steps around an open box of art supplies and turns over a large piece of paper. It is obviously a flying contraption, but it looks so strange… like it is straight out of a steampunk novel. And is that gold on the sails? How is this thing supposed to fly?

Raising an eyebrow, you take a seat on the small stool next to the lamp resting on the ground. “What is it for?”

A grin captures his lips. “I’m taking you to the stars. No more sitting around on Earth. I’m tired of this place. When we wed, I promised you a life of adventure. We left the mansion, and now we’re living in the closet of a train station. This isn’t the glamorous life you should have.”

“I think it’s pretty fancy, actually–”

He shakes his head with a laugh, and his dark brown hair falls over his forehead. “We’re going to fly amidst the galaxies that make up the vast universe. How tiny we are, compared to them.” He whips around. “Imagine, reaching your hand out and catching a handful of dust from the time of creation. How amazing that would be…”

You laugh, but don’t correct him. Instead, you take his hands between yours again and kiss his calloused knuckles. “Where would you like to go first?”

He leans his head against yours and points at the horizon. “Sirius. It is one of the brightest stars in the night sky.” Turning to meet your gaze, he brushes his thumb against your cold cheek. “There is only one star that rivals its beauty. Would you like to know which one?”

“Of course.”

“A moment, if you please.”

Taking a dramatic step backwards, he plays around with the astrolabe until it clicks into place. The long hand is pointing directly at you.

“I don’t understand,” you tell him.

“Cara mia, you are the brightest star here tonight. You will always be the most beautiful star as well. Trust in that.”

You flush at his words, and it is hard to contain your smile. “You’re such a smooth talker, why can’t you put some of that effort into cleaning your room! I swear, it looks worse than it did when I first arrived here. Remember that time I found a mouse amongst your things?!”

“Don’t bring Lorenzo into this, he’s done nothing wrong!”

The two of you break into a fit of laughter, and that’s when he puts the astrolabe in your palm once more. “This is yours though.” He’s looking at you again with those pools of ochre mischief. “In the case that we are separated before we can reach the stars, use this to find me. Go towards Sirius, and I will meet you there. I’ll wait for you.”

The white noise of the museum filters into your mind as your eyes flutter open, and you ease back into reality. Tears roll down your cheeks, but you do not move to wipe them.

Looking at the astrolabe again, you see the tender scratches against the metal: his initials coupled with yours. An impressive layer of grime dulls the shine of the device, making it less impressive than how it looks in its natural state.

A week after he showed you his plans, a tank of a train exploded, plunging the east side of the station in flames. As the fire grew, it stretched to the opposite side, where the hotel was. You had begged him to escape before the roof collapsed, but he insisted on returning for the astrolabe and his telescope, because he had been using it to calculate stars the night before.

As you had expected, the wooden beams were not strong enough to withstand the fire but, by some stroke of luck, he managed to thrust you to safety before everything collapsed.

Neither him nor the damned astrolabe made it through.

A painful hatred for the device burns in your lungs, so you turn away from it and nearly run into someone. Tossing an apology into the air, you hurry forward and move past the rest of the salvaged artworks without paying them much attention. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings and weighs your feet down, retarding your motions.

Despite the tears blurring your vision, you throw your head back and glances back at the astrolabe. You don’t know if it is taunting you or trying to tell you something. And yet, your eyes follow the long hand forward, just beyond where you’re standing, until you realize that it is pointing directly at the final, most impressive display of them all.

It towers over your head, stretching up the entire length of the wall. Pieces of blueprints, canvases, loose papers, wood, and more are all arranged to create a larger than life depiction of– you.

The eyes.. Her nose.. That beauty spot on her cheek that you hate… it is all there. He had to have reproduced it all from memory because you don’t remember him taking any photographs or sketches of her.

In the bottom corner, you see a plaque:

Believed to be a portrait of his lover, our favourite artist would have had to spend years creating this piece: in fact, our experts needed months to put the pieces together in order to reveal a face! In the left margin of the paper with her eye, the phrase ‘my star’ is written, so we have named her ‘Étoile’ for reference. Who was this woman? It was thought that this was lost to a massive fire in the nearly five decades ago, but the recent excavation proved fruitful in its treasures among the basement of the Gare d'Orsay when preparations for the museum began...

You hear his voice loud and clear in your mind.

Cara mia, I am waiting for you, but do not rush. When you are ready, join me, so that we may explore the world beyond this one together.

Unable to contain your emotions anymore, you break into sobs. The sadness ebs from your broken heart and stretches through your body, making your legs click in place. You lose your balance and fall to the polished tiles, clutching your chest in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Other guests swarm to your side, offering you help or to call for someone, but you ignore them all.

Even overwhelmed with memories, you can feel the warmth of his promise, just as if he were standing beside her.

I’ll meet you again, Leonardo.

I’ll meet you at Sirius.

#ikevam #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevam leonardo #ikevam x reader #ikevam leonardo x reader #cybird #otome

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imaginexmeintheuniverse · 5 years ago

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5 times you infuriated me and 1 time you made it okay

A/N: okay so the 5 times concept is something i enjoy writing very much, however i am aware that in this piece in particular, a lot of the ideas are underdeveloped and probably especially dont make sense with the ending when you look at the relationship, but please keep in mind that this ‘5 times’ theme i chose focuses on those kinds of incidents so there are a lot of other times in between (and i dont have the time or energy to turn this into a super long fic but perhaps one day.. ) so this is what happened!

Warnings: mentions of torture (like in the 7th when Bellatrix takes to Hermione)

Tags: @expellimarvelous and for some reason my hp taglist got lost so let me know if you’d like to be added!

↠↠↠↠↠↠

I. Bad Start to the Sixth Year

Your sixth year at Hogwarts seems to be off to a good start as you laugh and snack on sweets with two of your three your best friends on Hogwarts Express. Or at least it seemed like it was off to a good start until the train arrives at the station, and Harry is nowhere to be found.

Waving off Ron and Hermione with a promise to catch up, you insist on going to look for him by yourself. Your search leads you all the way to the other side of the strain where the blinds are conveniently drawn. You can hear a voice muffled through the closed door, and you become filled with dread when you identify who it belongs to.

Sliding the door open a crack, you see a familiar head of slicked-back platinum hair. You aren’t able to make out what he says, but you do see him bring down a foot to meet Harry’s nose.

“Malfoy, what the fuck?!” you burst out, causing the Slytherin boy to jump in surprise.

“Y-Y/N- I-I—”

“I don’t know what the bloody hell you think you’re getting away with, but you better get the fuck off this train before I curse you,” you snarl, shoving him aside to get to Harry. Seeing that he��s been petrified, you take your wand out of your jacket pocket and mutter, “finite,” to which your friend thankfully wakes up, blinking a few times. He doesn’t move much, as he tries to regain control of his muscles, and you insist he takes a moment to do so.

Throughout this, Draco has gone so quiet you think he might have actually left, but when you turn your head to meet his stormy eyes, you’re filled with rage, once again.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?! Get out!”

“But Y/N, I-I'm—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you say in a lower tone as you tend to your friend, not even sparing him another glance.

Why is it that just when you think there might be a redeemable quality buried deep in Draco Malfoy, he always does something that proves otherwise?

II. Welcome to the Slugclub

“Okay, okay! I was gate-crashing! Happy?” He admits, trying to shake off Filch’s grasp on his jacket.

His eyes that used to be sharp and bright, have recently become sullen. They lock with yours for a solid moment before he’s ushered out by Snape.

Your eyes linger on his figure as he’s led away from the party— probably longer than they should have, but you can’t help noticing how thin he’s become. You’ve barely seen him all year, despite having a few classes together. He was never that hefty to begin with, but it looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in ages. Other than his usual perfectly tailored wardrobe, he now wears dark circles under his eyes, and it’s impossible not to notice how the contours of his face have become that much sharper and his already pale skin has adopted a sickly pigmentation.

You and Harry follow the pair out, but for different reasons. You know that Harry wouldn’t be happy about yours because of his suspicions, but Draco looks like he’s crumbling under stress.

Eavesdropping only proves Harry’s doubts about Malfoy, and he then decides to rejoin the party as to not get caught by Snape, but you hang back, telling him you need to go to the loo.

You wait in the shadows until you hear Snape’s steps scurry away before approaching Malfoy who stays behind, sitting on a ledge. A half-smirk appears on his face upon noticing you like he’s been gathering an arsenal of insults to shoot at you, but really, under the snide mask, he marvels at how lovely you look tonight.

“Straying from your date with Potter?” he spits out Harry’s name like it’s revolting to have on his tongue. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think Potter’s lady is ditching him in favour of a more refined pureblood—”

“He’s one of my best friends!” You roll your eyes and flail your hands up in exasperation. “And how is the nature of our relationship any of your business?!”

He snorts, leaning his back on the walk behind him and crosses his arms over his chest nonchalantly.

“You know, I came out here to check and make sure you were okay!” You shout at him hands coming up to furiously push your hair back. “I can’t believe that for a second I thought that— no- but you—”

“You thought what?” His voice has become softer, hard exterior starting to peel away in your presence. He stands from his seat, mild concern washing over his features.

You shake your head, looking anywhere but at him. “N-Nothing—”

“Tell me,” his hands place themselves on your biceps, long fingers curling around your arms gently.

You fall victim to his intense gaze, getting lost in the grey seas of his irises. His features aren’t as hard as they usually are and the grasp he has on you is delicate; like he’s afraid to hurt you and you almost feel like you can let your guard down. Almost.

“Is it true?” you ask him, diverging from the subject and he raises an eyebrow in response. “Did you hex Katie Bell?”

He opens his mouth, and then closes it without a word when he realizes he has nothing to answer to that and you’re the only person he can’t lie to. That’s enough of a confirmation for you. You let out a breath of disbelief and he starts to panic, because contrary to the backwards dynamic the two of you share, part of him does care what you think. “Y/N- p-please listen—”

All emotion leaves your voice as you tell him, “Just leave me alone, Malfoy.”

You shrug him off, and spin on your heel, breaking the eye contact. Walking down the hall, you leave him there to bask in the silence and his dark thoughts.

III. Hair Like You

You’re already teeming with rage as you scour the castle for Ron, who slipped you one of Fred and George’s prank snacks that ended up changing your hair color. Running into Draco Malfoy, of all people, really puts the cherry on top of the shit sundae.

To make things worse, it looks as though he’s going out of his way to get to you when he spots you from across the courtyard. At first he squints, not fully sure if it’s you with the new physical change, and then tails you down two hallways, not giving a single damn how creepy he may look.

“What do you want, Malfoy—”

“It seems like you’re more obsessed with me than I had originally thought,” he snickers, catching up with your quickened pace.

That’s when it hits you, and you instantly halt, causing him to smack into your back. Spinning around to face him, your eyes widen in horror as you take in the familiar platinum blonde hair�� the same shade you saw in the mirror earlier.

“That’s just great!” You throw your hands up dramatically. “Now I look like you!”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself—”

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy!”

“You know, it really doesn’t look that bad. Maybe you’re starting to have better taste.”

Despite knowing full well that that was Malfoy speak for a compliment, you’re in no mood for it. “Oh, well I’m so glad that the Slytherin prince thinks me, a lowly commoner, 'doesn’t look that bad’ just fu—”

“No! No! No! Y/N! I didn’t mean—”

“—ck off! Because on top of looking like the most insufferable git in the entire school what I really wanted was to receive a backhanded compliment—” And just then, you spot the familiar redhead with bad influences for older brothers from across the hall who you’re even more pissed off at than Malfoy.

“I don’t have time for this,” is all you say as you bolt down the hall towards Ron, screaming, “YOU’RE DEAD, WEASLEY!”

IV. Held Hostage

Hermione’s screams are enough to make you feel like you’re being gutted, and when Bellatrix takes her knife to your arm, you’re absolutely terrified. At least this means your best friend has a break from her torture. In the meantime, you nearly bite through your cheek to hold in your own screams whilst the saddistic woman spells out the hateful term that’s been thrown at you your whole life, carving it into your flesh.

After what feels like hours, the death eater sits back up, admiring the her work with a sickening grin on her face, and you want nothing more than to smack it off. Or at least you would if you didn’t feel like you’ve been drained. What you do feel is defiled; like your own skin is no longer yours, and the blood that runs through your veins doesn’t belong to you.

And Draco Malfoy has been standing on the other end of the room this whole time whilst his barbaric aunt tries to get information out of you.

The rest of what happens is experienced through the blur of hopeless tears your eyes are clouded with, until Harry picks you up off the floor after Bellatrix had pushed you and Hermione to save herself from the falling chandelier. A certain fire surges through you as you regain full consciousness.

You see Harry and Draco fight over his wand, and instinct kicks in as you lunge forward, efficiently tackling the latter to the ground. Snatching the wand out of his hand, you throw it to Harry. The blonde boy’s struggles are weak under your weight, almost half-assed as you feel the tension start to leave his muscles.

“Why?!” you shout in his face, grabbing him by the collar to keep him down. Tears well your eyes, but your gaze pierces through him nonetheless. The feelings of helplessness and emptiness are long gone as angry tracks burn down your cheeks. “Why—”

“Y/N!” Harry scoops you off him in one swift motion, pulling you to where your allies have regrouped. “This isn’t the time- w-we have to get out of here!”

You don’t say another word, and your infuriated eyes target the conflict and fear that resides in Draco’s. He’s left with the image of your anguish and fury engrained in his mind long after you disapparate.

V. Crossing Over

The Dark Lord himself beckoned him, and for a second you thought he might resist, but then his mother called him, extending her hand for him to come to her, and you saw him break.

“No!” You cry out as he starts to take hesitant steps towards the death eaters. “Draco, don’t do this!” His already shaky demeanor falters for a moment at the sound of his first name falling from your lips. “You have a choice.”

Steeling his nerves, he doesn’t allow himself to look back, because he would surely crumble under the weight of your gaze and the pain etched into your features. He continues forward, into the arms of a proud tyrant, and you swear your heart drops out of your chest.

Then, the whole scene with Neville’s heroic spirit ensues and you feel the fire within you flare up again when Harry tumbles out of Hagrid’s arms. Death Eaters that have been backing Voldemort start to disappear, leaving an unevenly distributed cloud of darkness.

Everyone else starts to retreat to the castle to regroup and fight as one, but you chase after the fleeing Malfoy family. It’s as though you have no control as your legs move under you on autopilot and as fast as they can go.

You’ve almost caught up to the trio on the bridge and can no longer help yourself.

“Coward!” You yell, trying your best not to let your voice crack, with no avail. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from spilling freely. Draco meets your eyes with his own that portray a boy who is terrified out of his mind, but you’re relentless. The truth isn’t always easy. “You’re a bloody coward, Malfoy!”

Avoiding your fiery gaze, he turns into his mother’s comfort. Not once do his eyes meet yours again before he disappears in a whisp of black smoke.

What you feel is rage, but with that rage comes with an added indescribable pain and disappointment.

+ Midsummer Night’s Dream

The next time you see the infamous Draco Malfoy is just over a year since he disapparated in a whisp of black smoke. Little do you know, immediately after apparating, the boy fell to his knees in the arms of his mother. He broke that day, and hasn’t been able to put himself back together since, contrary to the proud Malfoy mask he wears out in public. He hides behind crisp suits and perfectly-coiffed platinum locks. It’s enough to have anyone who reads the Daily Prophet fooled about how the heir carries onto a successful path despite everything that has happened.

But not you. He never could fool you of anything, really. So when you and your friends spot him taking a seat alone at the Three Broomsticks you know something’s up, because a refined Malfoy doesn’t just hang out amongst mere commoners like that.

“What is he doing here?” Ron spits out, red fury already starting at the tips of his ears and seething from his narrowed eyes.

As if on cue, Draco’s eyes lift from his glass to meet yours.

Hermione sends you a sympathetic smile before mumbling calming words to her boyfriend. The Malfoys and Weasleys always did get each other riled up.

Harry, who sits beside you, gives you a gentle nudge with his shoulder to get your attention and you can immediately read his expression. He can read yours just as easily and can see that you’re starting to get anxious. “Y/N…”

“Harry, it’s okay,” you simper, standing slowly from your seat. “I’ve got this.”

He casts a glance towards the blond across the room before his eyes come back meet yours, sending you a look as though to ask if you’re sure. You give him a nod and he sends you off with a comforting squeeze of your hand.

As you make your way to the table for one, you’re so focused on slowing your heart rate that you’ve arrived at your destination before you know it, seeing the shiny black dress shoes in contrast to the uneven wood panels of the pub’s floor. When you lift your gaze, it’s then that you realize he’s been staring at you the whole time.

“Malfoy.”

“Y/N.”

The sound of your first name rolling off his tongue lights something inside you— and it’s not pretty.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice is steady, but with a strong undertone of something darker. Like the calm before a storm.

“Can’t a man enjoy a butterbeer on his own?” Despite him being absolutely terrified of you, he somehow manages to exude a certain lightness. You look at his untouched pint and raise an eyebrow and he knows you aren’t in the mood for small talk.

“Cut the shit, Malfoy.”

Recognizing the beginnings of anger in your tone, he stands as smoothly as he can manage and gestures towards the door. The last thing he wants is for you to snap because he knows very well what it’s like to be on the receiving end of your fury.

He follows closely behind as you lead him out into the dim lighting of Hogsmead. The summer air doesn’t feel as heavy as it has for the last week, and the sky proudly shows off the twinkling stars. It would be a perfect night if not for your circumstances.

You stop in your tracks and spin to face him so briskly, your forehead almost hits his chin. “You have one minute to talk before I hex you where you stand.”

“You always did excel in hexes and jinxes—”

“Fifty-five seconds, Malfoy.”

“Uh- erm- o-okay—”

You have about zero patience left. The anger thats been quietly bubbling for the last year has been on the brim of overflowing the second he walked in tonight, but so has all the pain and sadness you’ve kept locked up all this time. “You’re wasting my time.” You prepare to stalk off, but a firm hand pulls you back by your elbow, and for the the first time since the war, your face with Draco Malfoy. It’s the first time tonight that you can really see him. He looks worse than ever.

The silver pools that once resided in his irises look like shells of what they once were. And he sure felt that way, until he saw you. That’s when he realizes how empty he always is until he’s around you. My, how he took that for granted all these years.

Trying your very best, you fight against the urge to give into the part of you who still cares for him and wants to know the last time he had a good night’s sleep. You also try to fight against the water accumulation behind your eyelids, but it only makes it worse.

“What?! What do you want, Draco?!”

The use of his first name is the only sign he needs to be brave for once. Without further hesitation, he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. Once over the initial shock, you give in for only a half second before you come to your senses and push him back, both hands planted firmly on his chest.

“What the bloody hell are you playing at?!”

“I-I- Y/N, I-I’m so—” Right then, is one of the few times you see what he’s really feeling on the inside be expressed on the outside. “I-I just-I thought—”

“You- you thought what?! We’d ride off into the sunset on the back of a unicorn and live happily ever after?!” You don’t care how frantic you look right now. You don’t care that the midsummer night wind is whipping your hair into complete and utter chaos. And you definitely don’t give a single fuck about how the drunk people stumbling by you giggle uncontrollably. You pause for a moment as you wait for them to be out of earshot, and once they are, you let out a frustrated breath and resume. “Did you honestly believe that you could kiss me, and then everything— all of the absolute shite of a mess would just go away?!”

His gaze drops to the ground that his shiny dress shoes stand on, with a few platinum strands that fall from their place. Those are the only visible signs of something amiss with the well-dressed man. But you see something else cloud his features: shame. The last time you saw that, which was also the last time you saw him, he left. He always left you while you were angry, enraged, and never stuck around to face the truth.

Draco Malfoy decides that this time is going to be different.

He has felt as empty as his eyes appeared for months, but when his gaze rolls back up to meet yours, you see the grey storms you saw when you first met him. Sure, they were masked by an outer shell that was brimming with entitlement, but they have now what they had then. Purpose.

“Y/N,” His hands twitch as he fights the urge to reach out for yours, deciding against it in favour of using two words you’ve been waiting to hear. “I’m sorry.” You soften, releasing the tension you didn’t realize you carried in your shoulders. The angry tears that stung the backs of your eyes melt to something peaceful as they escape their ducts. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I know I don’t deserve another chance, or any of the chances you’ve given me, but if you’ll give me one more I promise I’ll be better. Everything you’ve ever said about me is true; I am a coward, but I’m not leaving this time.”

“And what if I want you to leave?” You ask, testing the waters, more than anything else.

“If you tell me to leave— if that is what you truly want, then I will. Tell me to leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Okay, then leave.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Y-Yes—” You stammer out a complete lie. Every cell on your body knows it’s a lie, and apparently so does he.

“I don’t believe you.”

More than anything, you want to fling yourself into his arms but you feel like your feet have been colashoo-ed to the ground. A corner of his mouth quirks up into a soft lopsided smile as his hands raise to thread fingers through the top of your hairline, smoothing wild strands away from your face. His touch is so careful and delicate than you could have ever imagined. He leans down slowly and stops just as his lips have brushed over yours, asking for permission, “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

Syllables get caught in your throat, and channel themselves through you body as you move to slate your mouth over his. The sensation is so delicately mind-blowing, and it leaves you absolutely breathless when you pull away to lean your forehead against his.

All you can manage to breathe out is, “stay”.

The way your breath fans over his lips is intoxicating, and he’s certain he’s never seen anything more beautiful, no work of art finer, than the way you’re looking at him.

“I’m not leaving this time. Never again.”

His grasp tightens as he pulls you back to his lips and your fingers curl around the light fabric of his shirt. Every emotion and feeling accumulated over lost time is poured into this kiss.

This time, what you feel for him is something stronger and far different than anger.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #5 times fic #hp #hp imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp fic #hp fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #potatowrites

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chongoblog · 6 years ago

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Hey I know that you all see me as the Grand Authority on Movie Opinions in that I am correct and can never be wrong and also my opinion on things is NEVER unsolicited because I’m literally the most important person on the internet and you CRAVE my opinions.

So I saw Shazam last night and I’m gonna talk about it under this readmore because I dunno how long it’s gonna be and I respect y’all’s dashes like that (plus if y’all don’t care abt what I thought then you can keep scrolling). There will be spoilers but I will clearly mark them.

So I’ve been thinking to myself on whether or not Shazam was the best DCEU movie. All things considered, it didn’t have too high of a bar to leap over, seeing how Wonder Woman, which was originally my favorite, had a lot of incredible moments, but was bogged down by a few of the scenes around those moments and a frankly terrible final act. And if I were to put it into numbers, (which people seem to love) I’d put Wonder Woman at about 50% INCREDIBLE 20% ehhhh and 30% GOD WHY, plus add a few bonus points for being so inspiring within its social context as a female-led superhero movie that isn’t terrible, sexualized or both. Shazam, on the other hand, doesn’t get those bonus points of social context, but has about a 60% Pretty Good and 40% ehhhh with one small bonus point for having one scene that personally hit me pretty hard that I’ll talk about later. It doesn’t reach any of the LOWS that any other film in the DCEU had, but at the same time, it didn’t really hit any of the highs either.

Something that’s worth addressing is that as someone who likes to partake in any and all drama because I’m a gremlin who loves seeing complaining, I saw plenty of DC fans complain that this movie was falling into a sort of trap set up saying “ITS ONLY BEING LIGHTHEARTED BECAUSE IT THINKS THAT IT HAS TO BE MORE LIKE MARVEL AND THATS WHY MORE PEOPLE LIKE IT” and I do want to address that because it’s a stupid argument. While Shazam is a departure from the DCEU’s more serious tone thus far, it’s not a black and white deal. DC isn’t strictly defined by being “the more serious Marvel” or vice versa. Being lighthearted did help Shazam out, not BECAUSE it was more like a Marvel movie, but because unlike movies like Batman v Superman, it didn’t try (and fail) to tackle more complex themes and down to earth schemes that made it lose focus and become an enormous mess. That being said, Shazam’s schemes and themes were much simpler, and it made for a much SMALLER mess if/when it did lose focus.

Before I dive into the spoilers, I’ll give my two cents on the film as a whole. Like I mentioned, the light-hearted tone did help out the movie, and it took itself a little less seriously with things while still balancing out some emotion in the story, and the whole theme behind it, while not PERFECTLY drawn out, still had a coherent message behind it. Visually, the movie was definitely trying to break out of the Zack Snyder mold that had been set up back with Man Of Steel, and while it still chills out in Low Saturation City a lot of the time, it IS doing a better job. Zachary Levi definitely deserves a shoutout in this movie for probably being the second best actor in the DCEU closely behind Gal Gadot in terms of casting choices, perfectly encapsulating the idea of Shazam, and pulling off the role of a Big Billy Batson, however he seems to have taken away the acting talent from half of the rest of the cast, because some of the acting in this movie is.....not great. And that’s not counting the child actors who did alright considering they’re child actors (Freddy in particular was fantastic).

The dialogue in this is pretty solid and indicative of the situation, and they really tried to lean into the idea that it’s some middle school (or early high I cant really remember) kid who just got these powers, and they do a pretty good job of that in both the dialogue and in the first half of the movie. And like I mentioned, there is a bit of Emotion in this movie that they really tried to deliver and they did a pretty good job delivering it. That being said, it’s very clear that they’re going for a kinda cheesy sort of vibe. Which makes sense, since the concept is Kid Becomes Superhero, which is ripe for picking like some kind of Cheese Tree....orchard.....thing.....and it leads to just a fun experience. It’s something that knows it shouldn’t be taken too seriously, which is why I’m writing an incredibly long analytical review of it, because I’m a curmudgeon like that.

ALRIGHT SPOILER TIME SCROLL DOWN TO THE VERY BOTTOM IF YOU DONT WANNA GET SPOILED

Lol alright so this spoiler section is gonna have a lot of negative points, so let me start with some positives.

The overall theme of this movie is sort of an idea of Found Family (which I’m an absolute sucker for), and there’s a subplot that follows this idea where Billy is looking for his mom. The movie starts showing a flashback where Billy’s mom gives him a compass saying “it’ll always help you find your way home” and then very shortly afterward, Billy gets himself seperated from his mother and had to be put into foster care and is now searching for his mother by looking everywhere he can to the point it causes him to run away multiple times. It’s not too surprising how this ends, with him finding his mother, only to find out that she just didn’t pick him up because she was 17 at the time and felt she COULDN’T take care of him. And that’s the point when he realizes “maybe my REAL family were the kids in the foster home all along”. Billy Batson sees that his birth mother’s life is tumultuous, taking on new lovers, working part time jobs, and not having time to even consider caring for Billy, moreso just hoping he turned out alright. Billy, as a sort of symbolic gesture, hands his mother the compass saying “you’ll need this more than me”. And then she replies with two words that just killed me for some reason.

“What’s this?”

I don’t know. It was a line that hit me. Kinda reflecting that sort of disconnect. Alright enough being nice, let’s talk things that are Alright but could be better.

The villain was alright. His character was pretty fun at the beginning, but after he got revenge on his father for Toxic Masculinity™ he became pretty boring, acting more like a CGI Monster Vending Machine. Of course it kinda leads into the whole Cheesy vibe they were going for, but it’s hard to make your movie seem like it’s gonna be campy and cheesy when your villain doesn’t really fall into the role once he actually fights the hero (also with the color palette). Just wish they would’ve sorta gone full Sam Raimi and just leaned into the campiness, with this movie kinda afraid to jump into the pool past its bathing suit.

And then there was the climax of the movie in the carnival, where I felt like it went a little bit downhill, not really being the best that it could be, but still pretty serviceable. The director seemed to be REALLY into using slo-mo, using it a little more than necessary to the point of being distracting, and while the Shazam concept was used in a few fun creative ways, there were some moments where it could have had more utility, or one moment in particular when he absolutely needed to change back and probably had time to say “Shazam” like twenty times over, but he didn’t, which was a LITTLE frustrating, but that’s way more nitpicky. Speaking of nitpicks, there were a few shots that were.....questionable (most notably the Santa.....moment? It seemed to be a clear funny moment, but it didn’t really land and didn’t flow either)

And also the climax has a bit of a fun twist moment that helps round out the Found Family moment where all of Billy’s adopted family also become superheroes, which is pretty sweet, but there was one SMALL nitpick that doesn’t overwhelmingly detract from anything but I found strange. Every character had a power, with one person showing the super strength, another showing super speed, another with lightning, another with flying, which were Shazam’s powers. And then Mary was there....and we don’t really get to see her powers? I did research and apparently she’s a character in the comics with all the powers of Shazam, but Mary was one of the only other characters with an arc and we don’t get to see her with any powers, which is a bit weird (we also don’t get to see her arc formally conclude. We can draw conclusions but still). So in the end it looks like Mary essentially kinda got Kairi’d. Oof.

But that’s really it for spoilers, in terms of the “bad” it’s really just that it didn’t really give it enough of an impact and while it knew what it wanted to be and isn’t disingenuous about it, it also doesn’t really commit to BEING what it wants to be.

ALRIGHT SPOILERS ARE ALL DONE YOU CAN LOOK NOW HERES MY BOTTOM LINE

Bottom line is that this movie is definitely flawed, and after consideration I don’t think I’d put it at the top of the DCEU, if only because Wonder Woman reached higher points than this one did, but that shouldn’t be a slight against Shazam at all. Heck, I would consider putting it a little bit above Captain Marvel if we’re inevitably comparing rivals.

So all in all I give it a Shazam/10. A good fun time. Not the BEST movie you’ll see this year, but you’re there to have a good time and you’ll have it.

#reviews i guess #dang im really just writing a review #ah well #shazam #dceu

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thymes-gnu-rowman · 6 years ago

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How to Survive Rehab

(Aka Cons with Feelings)

Humming to himself he began the first day of work.

“I will be the Best Psychologist this prison has ever seen!” Maine exclaimed, twirling the round end of his tie around his finger. His brown leather loafers squeaked against the polished linoleum as he readily smiled at every inmate he encountered. It was only after he reached level three he started getting smiles back.

----

“So Charlie…..where’s Pultakhen today?” Pang Chuey asked somberly, maroon hoof-like hands tugging on her blindfold amidst her plume of red curls.

Charlie smacked her hand away, thin silver eyes scrutinizing her knot.

“Stop,” he grunted, paused then tightened the cloth.

She humphed in the seat next to him.

“I'm not a child. I know where my eyes are Charlen. I'll even be able to see them soon. So you can just enjoy being my guide dog because the job will be outsourced… to my eyes.”

Charlie paused.

“So what room are we in? You forgot to describe it to me.”

Charlie cleared his throat, and in his gravelly baritone he mustered, “Lotta chairs…window.”

“Marion’s here too isn't he? Across the room? And Loyola and betti? And my baby brother?”

“Yes.”

“When you finish tying, take me to them.”

“Yes.”

----

The fluorescent lights were too bright. It made his eye hurt. He missed sunlight. And grass. He really missed grass. Also not having to wear pants. Prison was so funny about that.

“Pulta?” came a soft voice, warm and sweet followed by a hiccup.

Gradually, he sat up slipping on a pair of tan joggers and his usual gray tank, wearing his striped blue and gray prison shirt like a jacket. He stumbled over his comically gargantuan feet to the intercom, and pressed ‘speak’ on the translucent touchscreen.

“Yeah Pañaz?”

On the monitor, Pañaz, a cute and chubby guy, raked a hoofesque hand through his slew of angelically white curls. His dark blue skin shone brilliantly, and his full lips smiled grandly at the camera embedded in Pultakhen’s doorframe.

“It's the new teacher’s first day! *hiccup*” Pañaz cheered, waving two small fists excitedly, black nails flickering in the hallway lights.

Instantly, Pultakhen’s mood brightened, his cyclops eye widened and a grin conquered his chin.

“Have you seen them yet?” Pultakhen inquired, before opting to open the sliding door with a thought. He still marveled how Doors did that. Read your mind and whatnot.

Nodding happily, Pañaz hiccuped once more before irkedly fussing with a patch on his arm.

“Ugh, sorry about the hiccups, my patch is malfunctioning. I hate this thing. I wish you could understand me without it.”

“Well, just learn Anglesh.”

Pañaz smirked, pursing his lips.

“How about you *hiccup* learn Mugg?” He retorted.

“Now why would I do that?” Pulta mentioned facetiously, bending down several feet to pat the much shorter man’s back.

“Because you love me,” Pañaz replied with a grand grin and scuttled off to the Teaching room down the hall.

“What is love?,” Pultakhen hummed and tried to keep up.

----

“I still cannot believe I'm here,” betti groaned

“Neither can I,” Loyola agreed.

“I’m innocent. You should be here.”

“I hardly think that's fair. Of all people to be on the judge’s side! My own sister!”

“Loyola, I was there. You burned his house down. You even tried to use my hand to do it.”

“We wouldn't have gotten caught if you'd used your hand.”

“I had nothing to do with it! The only reason I'm here is because you're a parasite!”

“Excuse me, Dr. Mei said I'm the main twin, and you’re the parasite.” Loyola rejoindered.

“Rude! THIS IS ENTIRELY SYMBIOTIC! It's SHARING!”

“I'm taller… and my spine is straighter. Main twin.”

“Still Rude. And no offense to liars but you're a liar,” betti retaliatyed and prodded her twin in her shoulder with her hand.

“Don’t POKE me!” Loyola shouted pointing at her twin.

Squinting, betti jabbed her finger in again. Loyola narrowed her eyes, and dropped her hand to her pocket. Quickly producing her gleaming can opener she held it to betti’s wrist.

“Take your stupid digit off me or ILL DO IT FOR YOU!” Loyola screamed eliciting no attention from other members in the “teaching room”. They were used to her outbursts.

“TRY!” betti shouted back, leaning in.

----

The phone had been silent all day. Drumming along to classical rock Grady adjusted her security badge. But then it all went to chaos. Shouting echoed through the hall, silence, then absolute cacophony.

“LOYOLA!” Grady yelled adjusting her pink extension clip in her ginger hair. She grabbed a first aid kit and bolted.

----

There he was. Across the room. Gentle and poised and so gingery. Bone straight orange hair, messily arrranged in the front and put into a sizeble loose bun at the base of his neck. He was wearing a green and brown sweater vest over a green floral dress shirt and tan capris. His tan socks were visible under his dark sandals, as if he got tired after putting on such formal attire. Marion sighed in his chair, careful to not appear as if staring-which he totally was. He could never get his hair that way. He’d tried so many times, but dye was never strong enough, and the flat iron always gave up on him.

When he saw Charlie get up, leading Pang Chuey by the hand in his general direction. He quickly sat up, adjusted the hem of his fitted tee and smiled expectantly only to be dissapointed. Charlie decided to talk to Hoshi instead.

With a sigh Marion slumped again, wondering just how long Charlie’s hair was in that loose bun he wore.

----

“This is Hoshi,” Charlie grunted gesturing. Pang Chuey extends a hoof, patting the air I front of her until she found his knee. She contined searching for his shoulders and then the top of his head, dislodging his beanie. Hoshi blanched at the contact, suppressing the urge to coil.

Grabbing her waist Charlie pulled her back.

“PangChuey… ask. It's polite.”

She harrumphed.

“It was just a knee.”

‘Way more than just a knee.’ Charlie thought.

“Personal space.” He said aloud.

“It's… alright,” Hoshi muttered, before replacing his beanie then shoving his hands further in the pockets of his hoodie.

----

“Come on Pulta!” Pañaz corralled.

“How are you so fast?” Pulta huffed. His limbs moved lazily and eventually Pañaz left his sight.

Figuring it was pointless to hustle anymore , he plopped against a wall to catch his breath. He almost felt like sleeping.

“You will not sleep in my hall, Spike.”

Pultakhen blearily looked up.

Grady stood over him dyed-ginger locks swaying in the breeze of the air conditioner. Her arms were folded and he notice an unmistakeable wound from Loyola’s canopener.

“Aren't you supposed to be in class?” She boomed.

Pultakhen shrugged. “Are any of us where we should be?”

“Spike!”

“I don't know where it is.”

“It's literally twenty feet away. Keep down this hall and the third room on be right.”

“I don't feel like going anymore,” He griped.

“It goes on your file as a good step forward. Who knows maybe you'll be promoted to level 6.” Grady encouraged.

“Meh. Overrated. I'm fine with level 5. Less work more sleep and salad.”

With a roll of her eyes Grady continued to her desk and left the behemoth to laze.

----

Maine entered the room, hopping and cheerfully greeting everyone.

“Anyounghaseyo! That's hello in Korean! My name is Maine Hae Jo, but Maine is fine! I'm the new Psychologist around here! Let's go in a circle, and get everyone's names ok?!” Maine enthused. He spun then pointed randomly.

“You start!”

He landed on a faintly purple guy, likely half Pintuian, and half human. He had straight black hair and was long faced, with two sets of eyes, a Pinutian trait. The top set were wider and seemed more expressive than the lower set which required glasses and were half-lidded at the moment. He was particularly thin, unshaven, wore a dirty looking beanie and a purple hoodie on jeans.

The guy looked around in confusion then pointed to himself.

“Yes you!” Maine encouraged hopping toward him

A silence ensued, the guys top set of eyes growing more and more nervous.

“Hello, my name is Hoshi,” he stated. His accent was distinctly Japanese, and Maine nodded approvingly.

“Thank you! Next!” Maine pointed to the girls to the right of Hoshi. “What are your names?”

The girls were conjoined twins, deeply caramelled skin glossed in the fluorescent light and their dark curly hair bounced as they spoke. One was taller with ponytail and the on on her left let her hair poof out in a small Afro, edges pinned back. They somehow wore seperate sets of clothing, like they each picked a shirt and sewed them together. The taller wore a dark blue turtleneck, and cradled a canopener in a clenched fist. The shorter wore a tan button up, and cradled her index finger which seemed swollen and forming scar tissue. She pulled up her sleeve with her teeth and hissed,

“Don't just lump us together. We’re seperate people.”

Tapping a finger to his chin Maine paused. Nodding eagerly he continued. “I'm sorry. You're right.” He pointed to the shorter sister. “What is your name?”

“You can stop pointing at me,” she grumbled “I'm betti. I don't belong here.”

“AUGH NOT THIS AGAIN! bETTI SHUT UP!”

“DONT TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! YOU SHUT UP!”

Maine struggled to maintain his smile amidst their arguing and diverted his attention to someone else.

There was a red girl with even redder hair. She was short, chubby, and wore bandages over where Maine assumed her eyes were. Her ears were rectangular and pointed at the top, and her lips were full and pulled in a jovial grin. Attired in white fitted cotton shorts and a blue crop top she almost seemed like a flag of some sort. Three hoofesque fingers, black and made entirely of the nail, resided on each hand and her feet appeared similarly, unshoed and dangling halfway between the chair and the floor. She sat next to a large green man who eyed Maine suspiciously, thin silver eyes squinting.

Maine bent at the waist and gently tapped her shoulder.

“What is your name?”

She seemed startled at his touch and the green man steadied her with a touch to her opposite shoulder.

“My name is Pang-Chuey!” She shouted small hands on her hips. She broke into a grin and continued. “It's nice to meet everyone! Don't treat me different, because I'll be able to see again real soon and then you'll all be sorry!”

“Differently,” the green man corrected.

“Pleasure to meet you!” Maine replied. “Next!”

…

“Please take outyour laminated name tag that I prepared for you before class and please wear it every time we meet together. It'll make activities easier.”

----

“Okay now let's try to meet each other, if you haven't already! Play some old fashioned board games! I've already prepared partners so let's go for it! Don't forget to check each other's name tags!”

----

He was actually coming his way. Charlie, who was still checking over his shoulder, at the cute chubby maroon girl behind him. As he turned Marion could see Charlie's, unique ears, two flappy pieces of the yin-yang symbol glued to either side of his head.

When Charlie sat in the chair across the table from him Marion spoke, fingering the edge of the chessboard.

“Hi. I'm Marion,” He began trying to contain the enthusiasm in his smile.

“Charlen,” The green man across from him stated. His voice was moreso monotonous, but slight flicks of his flaming eyebrows seemed to convey interest.

Marion paused. ‘Have I been getting his name wrong this whole time?’

“Charlen?”

Charlie nodded.

“Some call me Charlie….If it's easier.”

“I like Charlen,” Marion stated frankly, and started arranging the black pieces on his side.

----

He needed to make sure Pang Chuey would be fine. With one final glance he settled at the table with the one titled Marion. He was absolutely gargantuan, nearly a foot taller than himself even, Charlie thought, and he was around six and a half feet. The gargantuan man’s shoulders were broad like a spaceliner deck, and his ears pointed out like how he imagined an elfs would. Jagged teeth were swaddled by a friendly and eager smile, and one monumental burgundy hand rested in a haystack of tight black loops of hair. Charlie nearly tsked at how Marion’s shirt seemed to barely contain him -muscles seemed to pop from everywhere- but he caught himself and instead tilted his head to the side slightly. They spoke, and when Marion arranged his pieces, Charlie did the same with his white pieces. They quickly traded turns, Marion quipping occasionally. With every movement Marion’s biceps seemed to flex impressively; he was almost jealous.

“Checkmate.”

The words flowed from Charlie's lips effortlessly, a deeply ingrained phrase.

Marion sat back, and examined the board.

“Wow,” spilled from Marion's mouth. After a few seconds, his plastic king clattered to the board, defeated.

“You’re very good. And fast. That was… really quick,” he babbled, “I thought I was good,” he chuckled nervously.

Charlie, taken aback by the compliment, began to set up the board once more.

“You are good.”

Marion glanced at him. “Thank you. But I couldn't manage to beat you.”

“It is okay. I did this for a living,” Charlie's tongue slipped. His fingers paused around a bishop and a brown blush appeared. He mentally slapped himself for sounding so pretentious, but maintaining external stoicism, he continued setting pieces. There was little point in explaining himself.

“Really?” Marion inquired.

Pausing at the question, Charlie debated on how much to tell him.

“Yes. It was...my...main source of income for a while.”

‘That and poker.’

“I wish I had a useful skill like that, but instead I’m here…” Marion whimsied.

Charlie adjusted the collar of his vest, and crossed a leg over the other.

“Why are you here?” He asked blatantly. Suddenly remembering decorum, his eyebrows flicked, and he continued, “...If I may ask.”

Marion smiled. “Sure you may. Silly law. I… winked at an officer. And I guess that's a crime now. So yeah, they called it uneccesary flirting…. ? You?”

‘I probably should be in here…’ Charlie thought.

“I am the optical guardian to Pang Chuey.”

“Her?” Marion gestured to the redhead across the room.

Charlie nodded and moved a pawn forward.

“Charlieeeeeee!” Came a shout accompanied by the bang of the classroom door being forced open. Charlie spun around in his swivel chair, brows furrowing out of habit. Pultakhen stood in the doorway adjusting the sleeves of his shirt-jacket and happily staring down Charlie then confusedly eyeing Marion. He entirely ignored Maine’s greeting and gave his widest smile to Charlie.

Charlie titled his head to the side, as if silently commanding ‘Speak’.

“It's so nice you came to visit meeeeeee!”

The lanky Hhen male bounded towards him his floppy high-tops slappping the lenolium. Before Charlie could realize, he jumped in his lap, nuzzling his shoulder.

Pultakhen was so much larger than Charlie but in a whole different way. Charlie was big, in a more traditional sense. He had broad shoulders was reasonably fit and rather tall for human standards. But Pultakhen was rather thin, muscular and sinewy all at once and nearly as tall as Marion, likely seven feet. His interest for oversized clothing further made him seem larger until his skinny wrists and ankles were visible.

Noticing the furrow of Marion’s brow Charlie felt compelled to explain, but Pultakhen beat him to it.

“Howdy,” he offhandedly greeted, eyebrows furrowing. “How's it hanging, Beefcake?”

“Is that me?” Marion muttered incredulously.

Charlie frowned at Pultakhen and tweaked one of the small horns that protruded from either side of the fairer male’s jaw.

Pultakhen yelped but continued to cuddle into Charlie.

“So mean…” he whined.

Exasperated by his persistence Charlie pinched Pultakhen’s light green skin, twisting until the tawny male was left griping on the floor.

“How could you treat blood this way Charlie? Is this what your street friends teach you? Blood is thicker than water! Tell them that for me! I don't like you hanging around them! They're a bad influence!”

“You’re worse,” Charlie retorted.

“How?! I'm just a friendly peace loving naturalist!”

Charlie snorted humoredly and returned to the chessboard.

Pultakhen crossed his legs on the floor and stared at the board, his eyes just reaching over the edge of the table.

“Ooh you’re playing chess again? How much did he bet?”

Ignoring him Charlie continued to stare at the board until he realized Marion was not planning a move. He was still staring at Pultakhen.

“Are you…?” Marion gestures between them.

“Howdy. Again. I'm Pultakhen, since I have to introduce myself.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and grunted, pointing to his badge.

“Yeah, well I didn't get one of those,” Pulta quipped and batted his lashes grandiosely at Charlie.

“And this is my wife Charlie.”

Charlie dropped his face into his palm and gestured aimlessly the other hand swooping in the air like an angry owl.

Pultakhen wrapped an arm around Charlie's waist and laid his chin on the table.

“Yup. It’ll be twenty years in January.”

At his limit, Charlie again tweaked the closest of Pulta’s two jaw spikes.

“Brother, ” He muttered and moved one of Marion’s pieces for him.

Marion blinked.

“Really?”

Pultakhen and Charlie exchanged a glance, then shrugged.

“Who can say really.” Pulta muttered running a hand through his gray curls, then rose to his feet kissing his brother’s cheek. He then skipped off to another corner of the room, toward an iridescent-haired person by their lonesome leaving charlie to wipe the spit from his cheek.

Marion scratched his head.

‘They didn't really look alike in build or coloration, hair color even in position of spikes. Pultakhen has those chin spikes but Charlie doesn't. Instead two large incisors jut out from his lips. Do those count? Unless he files them down? But his brother is a cyclops. How could he have two eyes and his brother only one? Though maybe I'm not familiar enough with genetic traits common to their species? They're personalities are so different too. Are they actually not related? ’

“Checkmate.”

Jerking his attention back to the board he found war had been waged and won right under his nose.

Glancing up he found Charlie smirking at him.

“We don't think about it much.”

----

“So Loyola?… betti?” Pañaz asked.

“Yep” Loyola stated.

“You’re very cute,” betti mewled ignoring his inquiry. He blushed intensely his bubbly cheeks dimpling as he fought a smile. Tossing a hoofed hand in the air he giggled.

Regaining his composure he pulled a card from the deck on the colorfully candy-coated board. Moving his character ahead he internally cheered when he got to move to the end space.

He externally frowned when Loyola flipped the board.

----

#teating out a new title #cons with feelings #pultakhen #charlie #idk cute i guess?

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losvers-clubb · 7 years ago

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20’s Lovers

Reddie

Summary: in the 20’s Eddie Kaspbrak searches the streets for lovers and booze, he finds himself someone with a dashing voice, but he’s got a thing for ruining conversations.

Casually putting out content no one really asked for. I’m thinking of making this a 2 part story??? It’s been on my mind and I just wanted to throw it out there so hi, have fun with this, let me know if you want another.

Thanks for encouraging me to write this @rememberingtozier I honestly wouldn’t of without you. Xx

Here’s Part Dos (2) https://losvers-clubb.tumblr.com/post/167752703585/20s-lovers-summary-in-the-20s-eddie-kaspbrak

—

Eddie arrived at his worn down apartment, flicking on the lights after a long day of work. He put down his brief case and shrugged the coat from his shoulders, draping it over a chair while he walked over to his window, peering out the window. Overlooking the city, he couldn’t help but admire the bright lights from billboards, windows, buildings, vehicles. It was supposed to be a Thursday night, but due to the cities constant need of alcohol and parties, it never really slept.

“The city that never really sleeps” he mumbled to himself, suddenly finding the need to have a drink on his hand. He cracked the window open, letting jazz music pour through as he loosened his tie.

“Eddie!” He suddenly heard knocking on his door. “Eddie darling, are you home?” The knocking continued until he pulled open the door, revealing a very fixed up Beverly. Her short curls where tucked under a headband with pearls and a feather, and her hands and neck were adorned with jewelry. She wore a beautiful short black and wine colored dress and had on her worn down dancing shoes.

“Marsh, What brings you here so late?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowed but smile evident on his face.

“I found a brand new bar yesterday! Oh it was absolutely marvelous, the dancers where gorgeous and it was so clean. Eddie please I must bring you!”

“Bev” he sighed, slumping down on his couch. She grinned as him as she sat next to him. “It’s a work night, maybe tomorrow-“

“Come on Eddie bear, dont be a bluenose” she pressed on, taking ahold of his hands in hers. “Please I don’t want to go aloneee” he contemplated for a moment, knowing he’d be exhausted in the morning, but not wanting to go to bed just yet

“Fine, only because I need some giggle water right about now” he finally sighed, getting up from his spot. She squealed and danced a bit, pulling him to his bathroom.

“Let me fix you up-“

“Bev, I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out like that”

“Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie my love I must!” She begged, already pulling his worn hat from his head and his dull vest from his body.

“You said you wished you could, now is your chance to do so. It’s new, you won’t know anyone, plus, everyone will probably be too drunk to even notice, you’ll look great!” She exclaimed, digging into her purse and pulling out her cake mascara, then proceeded to cover his lids and lashes in the dark make up. He thought to himself for a second, what if I want to be noticed he thought. “You look hotsy-totsy, maybe you’ll be noticed by a cute guy tonight” she encouraged while adorning him with a necklace from her own neck. She comed his hair back and gelled it to perfection.

“Bevvy” he looked in the mirror, almost an entirely different person compared to earlier. She laughed loudly and grabbed ahold of his forearm. He was out the door within a second, and completely convinced she either had some kind of alcohol before this or drugs.

———

The taxi driver complimented Eddie on the entire way there, making many comments about his eye make up and glanced up constantly at him, making him a blushing mess, stuttering over his words. When they found their final destination, he left his name with eddie and tipped his hat before zooming off into traffic.

“I think he liked you, Vic was it?” She teased, bumping her shoulder against his.

“Stop, he’s not my type” he mumbled, fumbling slightly with his pearls. She hooked arms with him and lead him to an alley, she quickly knocked a few times before a latch was opened.

“Hey honey” she said to the masked man. The latch closed and locks where heard before a full door seemed to open out of nowhere. They were quickly ushered in to find a bright smile.

“Beverly marsh, am I flattered to see you” The man who Eddie didn’t recognize pulled her close, he was attractive. Tall, young, muscular.

“Eddie my love, this is Ben Hanscom, a sight to see” she flirted. Eddie did a quick wave, feeling slightly intimidated by Ben.

“Come, we must watch the performers tonight, there’s a good line-up” he pulled Bev closer to him and led them to the main room. Flappers filled the dance floor, most with gentlemen to dance with, others just there to shake. The small stage showed a beautiful chocolate man, belting out words so smooth it made Eddies heard melt, and his smile was so bright he felt that the room didn’t need all the flashy lights with him there. Jazz filled the air and Eddie was mesmerized. Ben had handed Eddie a drink and dragged Bev to join the rest on the dance floor.

He quickly downed a few drinks and his mind began to blur and his feet dragged him to the floor. Even though self conscious, he felt somewhat free of himself. He joined Bev and Ben happily. At some point he fell in sync with her and they danced as if choreographed.

“Thank you so much guys, my name is Michael Hanlon if you didn’t already know.” The singer began to speak which caught Eddies full attention, his face pink and breath heavy from dancing. “I’m going to change things up a bit if you don’t mind and have a friend of mine come join me on this stage. Richard Tozier” all eyes turned as a tall man walked up, a suit similar Mike’s. His hair was gelled back and he had big round glasses that gave him a very handsome smart look. Eddie, intoxicated and full of adrenaline, didn’t give a damn about anything at that moment, all he cared about was how insanely gorgeous the man up on stage was. When the music picked up and he sang in the microphone, Richie glanced down to Eddie and Eddie didn’t know if it was because he found him attractive or if his odd look of make up and pearls brought him out, but they never really broke eye contact the entire song. Eddie found the need to ditch Bev and decided to be right up against the stage, dancing and showing himself off to the man up on stage.

Once the entire set had ended, it was probably 2 am and Eddie found himself sitting at the bar, enjoying some sweet mixed drink and conversing with Bev, well, more like hearing her gush about her new man.

“I thought you were with Jack?” His fizzy mind suddenly remembered her fiancé.

“Eddie bear, I can’t be with him anymore. I have to break it off, that Jack, he hit me. He socked me right in the eye for smoking in the apartment, I said everyone smokes! But he didn’t give a damn, I feel like he wants to hurt me” she said, pulling out a butt for herself, downing the rest of her drink in hand. “Ben doesn’t care, he lets me, be bought me this necklace” she pointed to one of her chest “I swear Eddie, I’m in love with him, I don’t have to be hurting anymore” she finalized, realizing he cigarette was not lit. “Benny darling” she turned, and almost like a magnet he was by her side, lighting a match for her.

“Give me something strong” Eddie heard from behind, the voice catching his attention almost instantly. He turned to find the Richard Tozier sitting beside him, cigarette between his pink lips. “Well, if it isn’t the most ravishing dancer in this room, I like your moves” He smiled at Eddie, making him blush.

“I loved your set, you and Michael, your voices are incredible” He breathed, turning his full body towards Richie.

“Ah, Mike” he said, relaxing himself into the stool as he was handed his whiskey. “That Mike, so attractive it makes you want to bed him” he said catching Eddie completely off guard, a blush rising.

“I-“ he started, not aware of what he should say next.

“What I’m trying to figure out though” Richie began, having a hard time keeping his face serious “is if when you were dancing, were you trying to bed Mike, or where you trying to bed me?” A gasp escaped Eddie and he instantly stood up, not knowing what to do other than grab his drink and toss the remaining liquid at the foul mouthed man in front of him. It caught the attention of a Beverly and she was instantly by Eddies side, following him out the door ad glaring at Richie. “Asshole” she slurred, pulling Ben up behind her.

“I’ll be right out” he called behind her, stopping in front of Richie. “What’d you do Richie?” He asked, helping him out of his wet coat.

“That’s one feisty man” he chuckled to himself, Mike running over from another side, laughing.

“You must of really pissed him off” he wrapped an arm around him.

“I was being honest” Richie shrugged, setting down his 10’th drink of the night.

“Next time, don’t drink so much when trying to sleep with someone” Mike said, laughing.

“He’s a nice guy, Beverly loves him-“

“Better watch out before he takes her from you” Mike retorted back to Ben, earning an eye roll.

“No no, not possible. I’m so sure he’s a homo” Richie said, a grin wide on his face. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it, puffing out clouds of smoke and satisfyingly resting his elbows up on the bar behind him.

“Idiot” Ben laughed, exiting the bar leaving Rich and Mike behind to pursue his lover and her damsel in distress.

#reddie #richie x eddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it by stephen king #it movie #it movie 2017 #it book #20’s #mine #i hope this is okay!

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missdipsomaniac · 4 years ago

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This is a funny thing to write , really. It’s quite not cute to write about your singleness is it? But i think I have enough good reason to blog about this season I’m currently at. And I hope this speaks plenty to the many still singles around.

The past few months, I was filled with thoughts of getting married. How could I not? most of my friends are getting engaged, getting married and getting pregnant. And dang, I’m in my late 20’s ! As compared to men, we can get frantically worried about building a family before hitting 30. As I can recall back when I was a little younger my age, I pictured and hoped to be married at the age of 28. Lo and behold, I am still single and no I dont consider myself exclusively dating-just yet.

The past few months I was having these thoughts were the same months I was being given attention by men one after another. From coffee invites to movie dates to just simple constant messaging on social media. I dont for the life of me consider myself a drop dead gorgeous woman. In fact, there are certain days I feel completely opposite. I don’t strike conversation ahead of them neither allow myself to do the first move no matter how attracted I may be to someone (the boldest thing I did was to add some men I admire on facebook). despite my somewhat old fashioned belief, to my surprise, some find me interesting-at least-probably. And honestly, just like any relational human being , I was finding it cute and uplifting.

So why am I still single despite few others expressing their desire to want to get to know me? I’d simply put it this way-which may be ambiguous but speaks affluent truth.. You see, I was no longer looking for a boy who’ll sweep me off my feet and make me giggle every time. I was no longer looking for mere sweet-somethings, I was looking or should I say, waiting for a man who may not have it all together but has the backbone to have to try.I was looking for a commitment, a partner and a help-meet. .I WANTED TO FEEL A CERTAIN CONNECTION. To date, I haven’t really felt it yet.

It’s not about having high standards really. Men would always box us in as if we placed ourselves too high on a pedestal we seem unreachable. LIE. Women’s standards are realistic and attainable. Men just dont have the balls to exert effort and see if they fit the bill. Much more, courage to endure if they don’t.

Connection. Why is connection important ? Tight Relationships are more likely to form and endure when couple shares the same ideas, values,desires, principles and interests and oh I dont mean to say we have to be the exact DNA of each other, no. We have to understand that a common ground has to be established. They say opposites attract but that didnt prove to be always true . Even scientific studies prove its unlikelihood. If I were an adventurous, outgoing , well rounded woman, what are the chances my relationship with someone who is a stay at home kind of person, introvert be of much success? I mean no offense to others whose relationship is a success despite being completely opposite because certainly, there are and there will but I was talking about the likelihood. Percentage and numbers on quite a few studies proved to be true -that successful relationships are those that share similarity more than the differences.

Waiting is gaining. Cliche as it may seem, singleness is a gift not everyone had a chance to enjoy. I cannot downplay this gift for this is where I found myself more productive, more purposeful, more knowledgeable, more independent and more mature. This season is riping me up for harvest (next season). It’s quite funny that the books I’ve been raving to read are books about marriage when I am not even in a relationship and no way near to it because apparently, no one has levelled up , to say the least. Nonetheless, it gives me so much wisdom I am sure to thank myself for having to know early on. Marriage is no walk in the park and just as news about divorce and annulments arise left and right, we may be quick to question if not get fearful about it. Surprisingly, even hollywood superstars are no exception. The couples we were rooting for ended up seperating their own ways. You see, money, fame, status and beauty cannot make a relationship work. It’s an uphill journey one must be willing to endure. There’s no specific formula nor a book who could offer a perfect relationship advice, really. But given the ample time to prepare and learn about it seemed to be more beneficial than having none. The waiting season has had smoothen my rough edges and more importantly, had me countless realizations on self discovery. There’s no greater joy than feeling happy on your own skin and being able to accomplish anything at your own pace and time. Sure, waiting is not as easy as cutting potatoes- it may be tedious, tiring and demotivating but having a positive perspective on its process makes a whole lot of difference.

What to do. Single hood is the season for cultivating yourself, your relationship with others and your relationship with God among others. This is the perfect time to hone your skills, to build community and to know God more deeply in a personal level. For self discovery, go travel, dine alone, watch a movie alone, read more books, attend trainings, hone your talents , learn to cook, do the laundry, volunteer to outreach events and anything in between you could think of to become productive. Build a strong relationship with the people around you specifically your family. Meet with friends, be present on family occasions, organize gatherings , socialize, be present. And above all, in whatever you do, include the Lord heartily. Engage in church activities, read your bible, be consistent with your devotions, join a ministry and share His love to others. There is no specific checklist really. How you make use of your time determines your priority. A productive , fulfilled and happy single life will most likely lead to a happy and fulfilled marriage too.

Who to choose. I’m no relationship guru and not trying to be one. I have had a fair share of relationship mishaps over the years. I saw the difference between a man who fears God and a man who doesn’t manifest a God in his life at all. It’s clear to me what kind of partner I’m looking for. Whether you are a man searching for the right fit or a woman waiting for the right one , pray for someone who loves God more than anything. Sure, Every person who marries is a sinner, so the search for a spouse isn’t a pursuit of perfection, but a mutually flawed pursuit of Jesus. If it scares him that I have a relationship with God, should it not scare me more to have someone in my life intimidated by what’s supposedly he should be looking for in a partner? When push comes to shove, will he stick with me after finding out we were not as “compatible” as we once before? Or will he marvel at God’s love and live it out in light of our differences? We gotta discern well.

Yes, society may pin down on our throats the urgency to get married but clearly, we should know better than them. Giving parts of our hearts to someone is a significant risk. We don’t really need to have our hearts broken, shattered and bruised to find what we’re looking for. Timing has been one of God’s little secret. Not too soon and not too late. I always remind myself of the verse from Habakkuk 2:3 “for the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.“

Yes, I may be single in my late twenties but that doesn’t make me any less of a woman. Im saving the best of me and not what’s left of me for my spouse.

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illbefinealonereads · 5 years ago

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Today, the Don’t Read the Comments blog tour is stopping by illbefinealone reads. Keep scrolling to learn more about the book, as well as read an exclusive excerpt.

Don't Read the Comments Eric Smith On Sale Date: January 28, 2020 9781335016027, 1335016023 Hardcover $18.99 USD, $23.99 CAD Ages 13 And Up 368 pages

Slay meets Eliza and Her Monsters in Eric Smith’s Don't Read the Comments, an #ownvoices story in which two teen gamers find their virtual worlds—and blossoming romance—invaded by the real-world issues of trolling and doxing in the gaming community.

Divya Sharma is a queen. Or she is when she’s playing Reclaim the Sun, the year’s hottest online game. Divya—better known as popular streaming gamer D1V—regularly leads her #AngstArmada on quests through the game’s vast and gorgeous virtual universe. But for Divya, this is more than just a game. Out in the real world, she’s trading her rising-star status for sponsorships to help her struggling single mom pay the rent.

Gaming is basically Aaron Jericho’s entire life. Much to his mother’s frustration, Aaron has zero interest in becoming a doctor like her, and spends his free time writing games for a local developer. At least he can escape into Reclaim the Sun—and with a trillion worlds to explore, disappearing should be easy. But to his surprise, he somehow ends up on the same remote planet as celebrity gamer D1V.

At home, Divya and Aaron grapple with their problems alone, but in the game, they have each other to face infinite new worlds…and the growing legion of trolls populating them. Soon the virtual harassment seeps into reality when a group called the Vox Populi begin launching real-world doxxing campaigns, threatening Aaron’s dreams and Divya’s actual life. The online trolls think they can drive her out of the game, but everything and everyone Divya cares about is on the line…

And she isn’t going down without a fight.

Buy Links: Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dont-Read-Comments-Eric-Smith/dp/1335016023 Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dont-read-the-comments-eric-smith/1131303425#/ Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Dont-Read-Comments/Eric-Smith/9781335016027?id=7715580291810 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/don-t-read-the-comments Indie Bound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335016027 Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Eric_Smith_Don_t_Read_the_Comments?id=Go6PDwAAQBAJ

Eric Smith is an author, prolific book blogger, and literary agent from New Jersey, currently living in Philadelphia. Smith cohosts Book Riot’s newest podcast, HEY YA, with non-fiction YA author Kelly Jensen. He can regularly be found writing for Book Riot’s blog, as well as Barnes & Noble’s Teen Reads blog, Paste Magazine, and Publishing Crawl. Smith also has a growing Twitter platform of over 40,000 followers (@ericsmithrocks).

Author website: https://www.ericsmithrocks.com/ Twitter: @ericsmithrocks Instagram: @ericsmithrocks Facebook: @ericsmithwrites

Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary

Rating: 4/5 stars

Review: Don’t Read the Comments tackles some heavy subjects, cyber bullying as one of the main ones. But it’s done beautifully, and though the subject matter is that way, it didn’t make me feel heavy while I was reading it. Eric Smith does an absolutely marvelous job at writing from a first person female POV. His excellent writing style, as well as the pace that perfectly suited the story, made the book unputdownable. I really enjoyed the characters. They felt fresh as they were developed excellently. The dialogue is excellent, it felt natural and flowed really well. All of it put together kept the book feeling dynamic, and entertaining throughout. This is a read that you definitely shouldn’t skip.

Excerpt:

1 Divya

Mom. We’ve been over this. Don’t read the comments,” I say, sighing as my mother stares at me with her fretful deep-set eyes. They’re dark green, just like mine, and stand out against her soft brown skin. Wrinkle lines trail out from the corners like thin tree branches grown over a lifetime of worrying.

I wish I could wash away all of her worries, but I only seem to be causing her more lately.

“I’m just not comfortable with it anymore,” my mom counters. “I appreciate what you’re doing with…you know, your earnings or however that sponsor stuff works, but I can’t stand seeing what they’re saying about you on the Internet.”

“So don’t read the comments!” I exclaim, reaching out and taking her hands in mine. Her palms are weathered, like the pages of the books she moves around at the library, and I canfeel the creases in her skin as my fingers run over them. Bundles of multicolored bangles dangle from both of her wrists, clinking about lightly.

“How am I supposed to do that?” she asks, giving my hands a squeeze. “You’re my daughter. And they say such awful things. They don’t even know you. Breaks my heart.”

“What did I just say?” I ask, letting go of her hands, trying to give her my warmest it’s-going-to-be-okay smile. I know she only reads the blogs, the articles covering this and that, so she just sees the replies there, the sprawling comments—and not what people say on social media. Not what the trolls say about her. Because moms are the easiest target for those online monsters.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware of that sign in your room with your slogan regarding comments,” Mom scoffs, shaking her head and getting to her feet. She groans a little as she pushes herself off the tiny sofa, which sinks in too much. Not in the comfortable way a squishy couch might, but in a this-piece-of-furniture-needs-to-be-thrown-away-because-it’s-probably-doing-irreversible-damage-to-my-back-and-internal-organs kind of way. She stretches her back, one hand on her waist, and I make a mental note to check online for furniture sales at Target or Ikea once she heads to work.

“Oof, I must have slept on it wrong,” Mom mutters, turning to look at me. But I know better. She’s saying that for my benefit. The air mattress on her bed frame—in lieu of an actual mattress—isn’t doing her back any favors.

I’d better add a cheap mattress to my list of things to search for later. Anything is better than her sleeping on what our family used to go camping with.

Still, I force myself to nod and say, “Probably.” If Mom knew how easily I saw through this dance of ours, the way we pretend that things are okay while everything is falling apart around us, she’d only worry more.

Maybe she does know. Maybe that’s part of the dance.

I avert my gaze from hers and glance down at my watch. It’s the latest in smartwatch tech from Samsung, a beautiful little thing that connects to my phone and computer, controls the streaming box on our television… Hell, if we could afford smart lights in our apartment, it could handle those, too. It’s nearly 8:00 p.m., which means my Glitch subscribers will be tuning in for my scheduled gaming stream of Reclaim the Sun at any minute. A couple social media notifications start lighting up the edges of the little screen, but it isn’t the unread messages or the time that taunt me.

It’s the date.

The end of June is only a few days away, which means the rent is due. How can my mom stand here and talk about me getting rid of my Glitch channel when it’s bringing in just enough revenue to help cover the rent? To pay for groceries? When the products I’m sent to review or sponsored to wear—and then consequently sell—have been keeping us afloat with at least a little money to walk around with?

“I’m going to start looking for a second job,” Mom says, her tone defeated.

“Wait, what?” I look away from my watch and feel my heartbeat quicken. “But if you do that—”

“I can finish these summer classes another time. Maybe next year—”

“No. No way.” I shake my head and suck air in throughmy gritted teeth. She’s worked so hard for this. We’ve worked so hard for this. “You only have a few more classes!”

“I can’t let you keep doing this.” She gestures toward my room, where my computer is.

“And I can’t let you work yourself to death for… What? This tiny apartment, while that asshole doesn’t do a damn thing to—”

“Divya. Language,” she scolds, but her tone is undermined by a soft grin peeking in at the corner of her mouth. “He’s still your fath—”

“I’ll do my part,” I say resolutely, stopping her from saying that word. “I can deal with it. I want to. You will not give up going to school. If you do that, he wins. Besides, I’ve…got some gadgets I can sell this month.”

“I just… I don’t want you giving up on your dreams, so I can keep chasing mine. I’m the parent. What does all this say about me?” My mom exhales, and I catch her lip quivering just a little. Then she inhales sharply, burying whatever was about to surface, and I almost smile, as weird as that sounds. It’s just our way, you know?

Take the pain in. Bury it down deep.

“We’re a team.” I reach out and grasp her hands again, and she inhales quickly once more.

It’s in these quiet moments we have together, wrestling with these challenges, that the anger I feel—the rage over this small apartment that’s replaced our home, the overdrafts in our bank accounts, all the time I’ve given up—is replaced with something else.

With how proud I am of her, for starting over the way she has.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve you.”

Deserve.

I feel my chest cave in a little at the word as I look again at the date on the beautiful display of this watch. I know I need to sell it. I know I do. The couch. That crappy mattress. My dwindling bank account. The upcoming bills.

The required sponsorship agreement to wear this watch in all my videos for a month, in exchange for keeping the watch, would be over in just a few days. I could easily get $500 for it on an auction site or maybe a little less at the used-electronics shop downtown. One means more money, but it also means having my address out there, which is something I avoid like the plague—though having friends like Rebekah mail the gadgets for me has proved a relatively safe way to do it. The other means less money, but the return is immediate, at least. Several of the employees there watch my stream, however, and conversations with them are often pretty awkward.

I’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, I’d get to keep this one thing. Isn’t that something I deserve? Between helping Mom with the rent while she finishes up school and pitching in for groceries and trying to put a little money aside for my own tuition in the fall at the community college… God, I’d at least earned this much, right?

The watch buzzes against my wrist, a pleasant feeling. As a text message flashes across the screen, I feel a pang of wonder and regret over how a display so small can still have a better resolution than the television in our living room.

THE GALAXY WAITS FOR NO ONE,

YOU READY D1V?

—COMMANDER (RE)BEKAH

I smile at the note from my producer-slash-best-friend, then look up as my mom makes her way toward the front door of our apartment, tossing a bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back around ten or so,” Mom says, soundingtired. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I always am,” I promise, walkingover to give her a hug. It’s sweet, her constant reminders to be careful, to check in, especially since all I generally do while she’s gone is hang out in front of the computer. But I get it. Even the Internet can be a dangerous place. The threats on social media and the emails that I get—all sent by anonymous trolls with untraceable accounts—are proof of that.

Still, as soon as the door closes, I bolt across the living room and into my small bedroom, which is basically just a bed, a tiny dresser, and my workstation. I’ve kept it simple since the move and my parents split.

The only thing that’s far from simple is my gaming rig.

When my Glitch stream hit critical mass at one hundred thousand subscribers about a year and a half ago, a gaming company was kind enough to sponsor my rig. It’s extravagant to the point of being comical, with bright neon-blue lighting pouring out the back of the system and a clear case that shows off the needless LED illumination. Like having shiny lights makes it go any faster. I never got it when dudes at my school put flashy lights on their cars, and I don’t get it any more on a computer.

But it was free, so I’m certainly not going to complain.

I shake the mouse to awaken the sleeping monster, and my widescreen LED monitor flashes to life. It’s one of those screens that bend toward the edges, the curves of the monitor bordering on sexy. I adjust my webcam, which—along with my beaten-up Ikea table that’s not even a desk—is one of the few non-sponsored things in my space. It’s an aging thing, but the resolution is still HD and flawless, so unless a free one is somehow going to drop into my lap—and it probably won’t, because you can’t show off a webcam in a digital stream or a recorded sponsored video when you’re filming with said camera—it’ll do the trick.

I navigate over to Glitch and open my streaming application. Almost immediately, Rebekah’s face pops up in a little window on the edge of my screen. I grin at the sight of her new hairstyle, her usually blond and spiky hair now dyed a brilliant shade of blood orange, a hue as vibrant as her personality. The sides of her head are buzzed, too, and the overall effect is awesome.

Rebekah smiles and waves at me. “You ready to explore the cosmos once more?” she asks, her voice bright in my computer’s speakers. I can hear her keys clicking loudly as she types, her hands making quick work of something on the other side of the screen. I open my mouth to say something, but she jumps in before I can. “Yes, yes, I’ll be on mute once we get in, shut up.”

I laugh and glance at myself in the mirror I’ve got attached to the side of my monitor with a long metal arm—an old bike mirror that I repurposed to make sure my makeup and hair are on point in these videos. Even though the streams are all about the games, there’s nothing wrong with looking a little cute, even if it’s just for myself. I run a finger over one of my eyebrows, smoothing it out, and make a note to tweeze them just a little bit later. I’ve got my mother’s strong brows,black and rebellious. We’re frequently in battle with one another, me armed with my tweezers, my eyebrows wielding their growing-faster-than-weeds genes.

“How much time do we have?” I ask, tilting my head back and forth.

“About five minutes. And you look fine, stop it,” she grumbles. I push the mirror away, the metal arm making a squeaking noise, and I see Rebekah roll her eyes. “You could just use a compact like a normal person, you know.”

“It’s vintage,” I say, leaning in toward my computer mic. “I’m being hip.”

“You. Hip.” She chuckles. “Please save the jokes for the stream. It’s good content.”

I flash her a scowl and load up my social feeds on the desktop, my watch still illuminating with notifications. I decide to leave them unchecked on the actual device and scope them out on the computer instead, so when people are watching, they can see the watch in action. That should score me some extra goodwill with sponsors, and maybe it’ll look like I’m more popular than people think I am.

Because that’s my life. Plenty of social notifications, but zero texts or missed calls.

The feeds are surprisingly calm this evening, a bundle of people posting about how excited they are for my upcoming stream, playing Reclaim the Sun on their own, curious to see what I’m finding… Not bad. There are a few dumpster-fire comments directed at the way I look and some racist remarks by people with no avatars, cowards who won’t show their faces, but nothing out of the usual.

Ah. Lovely. Someone wants me to wear less clothing in thisstream. Blocked. A link to someone promoting my upcoming appearance at New York GamesCon, nice. Retweeted. A post suggesting I wear a skimpier top, and someone agreeing. Charming. Blocked and blocked.

Why is it that the people who always leave the grossest, rudest, and occasionally sexist, racist, or religiously intolerant comments never seem to have an avatar connected to their social profiles? Hiding behind a blank profile picture? How brave. How courageous.

And never mind all the messages that I assume are supposed to be flirtatious, but are actually anything but. Real original, saying “hey” and that’s it, then spewing a bunch of foul-mouthed nonsense when they don’t get a response. Hey, anonymous bro, I’m not here to be sexualized by strangers on the Internet. It’s creepy and disgusting. Can’t I just have fun without being objectified?

“Div!” Rebekah shouts, and I jump in my seat a little.

“Yeah, hey, I’m here,” I mumble, looking around for my Bluetooth earpiece, trying to force myself into a better mood.

This is why you don’t read the comments, Divya.

#booklr #blog tour #don't read the comments #eric smith #ynaall #yna4 #contempall #contemp4 #out2020 #read2019

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bunysliper · 7 years ago

Photo

(Original image belongs to Helen Owen on instagram. I claim no ownership and mean no harm in borrowing it for this story. To reblog just the photo and not the fic, please reblog from here.)

l’amour est le miel

A ‘Waking Up in Vegas’ verse ficlet

"La vie est une fleur dont l’amour est le miel."

(Life is a flower of which love is the honey.)

– Victor Hugo

She might be exhausted, running on one too many cups of coffee to be healthy, and rethinking every answer she had given on the test, but she is free.

Finally.

How had she survived this quarter? Clearly by miracle, because the last few months have been frustrating, draining, and downright brutal. Either way, she is done, and free (except for work at the firm in New York, of course) for the next three and a half months.

And she is so ready to see her husband.

It's been weeks since their last visit – abbreviated as it was – and quick phone calls between book signings and study sessions will not cut it anymore. She doesn't even want to wait the four days until she's back in New York. She needs Rick.

"Hey stranger."

Pausing mid-stride, Kate searches for the source of the call. Campus is all but deserted at this point, making it easy to spot the yellow cab and the familiar – gorgeous – man leaning against the side of the vehicle. He lifts his eyebrows, a cocky grin carved into his features.

"Long time, no see," he calls, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Eager like a little boy.

"I–" she stammers, scrambling down the steps, practically tripping over herself to get to him. He catches her with a laugh, the cab at his back absorbing the impact of their colliding bodies. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?"

His answer is swallowed by the press of her mouth, the slide of her tongue over his lip, the tangle of her fingers in his hair. His breath mingles with hers, coming in ragged puffs against her lips by the time she releases him.

"Couldn't wait to see you," he rumbles, dropping his forehead to rest on hers. God, she knows the feeling. "I have a surprise for you."

Her heart taps a giddy rhythm against her ribs. "Yeah? Are you staying the week to help me pack? My roommate already moved out, you know," she adds, trailing a finger along the collar of his shirt. "So that means we have the apartment to ourselves for real."

"Mmm, not quite," he starts, thumbing her sides through her shirt. Oh, she can't wait to get him home and into her bed. "Give you a ride and I'll explain on the way?"

Kate's brow furrows. "The way? To my place? It's not that far, Rick. We can walk."

She watches a hint of pink creep up his neck. Rick opens his mouth to respond, but the cab driver beats him to it, jolting them apart with the horn.

"Look, buddy, meter's running. It's your money and all, but I'm burning gas. You coming or what?"

Rick's head bobs. "We're coming, we're coming." His lips skim her cheekbone before he pulls away and yanks the door open for her. "Trust me, Kate. You'll love this."

They've barely pulled away from the curb when he drops his surprise on her, handing over a slim piece of printed cardstock tucked into the dark blue book she recognizes from her desk drawer.

"My passport? Rick…"

"Look where we're going," he insists, nudging her to open her passport. Her eyes widen at their intended destination, and a protest rises to her lips. There's no way they can just go. She has to go back to her place, she has to take care of getting her stuff back to New York, she has to– "I let myself into your place and packed for you," he continues, sensing her reticence, "things I like and things you like, don't worry. And I arranged for a moving company to handle getting your apartment together and shipping most of your things home while we're gone. We'll take care of doing the final walk-through and turning in our keys when we get back."

Stunned, she can only stare at him, taking in the brilliant, eager flare in his eyes, the excited lift of his chest. He's insane, showing up to whisk her away after her finals, utterly certifiable. But she adores him just the same.

"This is insane," she murmurs, palming his cheek. Dipping his head, her husband's lips brush the inside of her wrist, quickening her breath, driving her half-crazy already. "You're nuts."

"Maybe," he grins against her skin, "but can't I treat my wife to a getaway to celebrate the end of another grueling quarter?"

Kate laughs, brushing her thumb over the skin beneath his eye. "I suppose I'll allow it, but Saint-Tropez? Rick, that's extravagant, especially for a spur of the moment trip."

His mouth collides with hers, flooding heat through her limbs. She lists into him, settling hard against his side as the cab takes another corner. "There is zero point to being a millionaire if I can't use the money to take care of and spoil the people I love."

"I know," she says, not wanting him to think she's unhappy or arguing. They've had similar discussions about splurges before, some more heated than others, but that's not what she wants right now. "I just want you to know I will get you back for this someday."

"I look forward to it," he murmurs, sliding gentle fingers into her hair, tasting her mouth again.

She nips at his lip, grins against his mouth. "I can't believe you're taking me to France on a whim."

Her husband chuckles. "You're gonna love it. I showed your mom some pictures of the hotel and she said she would pack a bag for herself, just in case you didn't want to go."

Laughter bubbles from her lips. "My mom would say that. She'd probably act on it, too. So don't tempt her."

Rick laughs harder, taking another kiss from her mouth. "Somehow I think your father would take issue with that – his wife running away to the French Riviera with his son-in-law."

She giggles. "Sounds like a plotline on Temptation Lane. You should pitch it and see if they can use it to bring back your mom's character."

"Now would that be for your benefit or my mother's?" he teases, thumbing her jawline.

Leaning into the touch, her lips lift. "Hmm, little of both."

"That's fair," he agrees, stealing one last kiss before slipping an arm around her, encouraging her to get comfortable for the remainder of the drive to the airport.

She wakes on the first full day of their stay to sunlight streaming through the tall windows in the living room. Their villa is gorgeous beyond words, modern but homey, the view breathtaking, and as much as she would like to stay pressed against her husband's side, the outside world is calling, enticing her out from under the covers to marvel at her surroundings.

Rick murmurs as she slips to the edge of the mattress, his fingers clasping in search of her while she pads to the bathroom and then to her suitcase to find clothing for the day. Thankfully, her husband hadn't been exaggerating when he said he'd packed more than just lingerie, and she pulls on a pair of cuffed denim shorts and a tank top over one of the (tiny) bathing suits Rick had included.

She makes a detour to the bed, brushing a kiss across her husband's brow, tenderness flooding her chest. He gives so much of himself, making time to visit her when she's at school, springing for trips for the two of them, all while working to craft some pretty amazing books. It's no wonder he's worn out (that, and they had thoroughly enjoyed each other the night before). She'll let him rest, even though every cell in her body wants to share this experience with him; there'll be time for that later.

"Gonna make coffee and head out to the balcony" she whispers, stroking soft fingers over his cheek, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips purse under hers, but he doesn't wake. "Come find me."

She hears the slap of his feet on the tile just as she's close to finishing her second cup of coffee and contemplating a third. Kate twists, leaning back against the railing to watch him lumber through the kitchen, bare chested, pajama pants slung low on his hips, his hair askew.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she calls, hiding her grin behind her coffee mug when he turns. "You look like you could use some of this."

Almost against his will, her husband yawns. "God, yes."

Kate abandons the railing and steps inside to meet him at the kitchenette counter, her fingers seeking the mug she'd left out for him. "I'll take pity on you," she teases, stretching up to kiss him. "I got it."

"Mmm, I love you."

"I know you do," Kate says, stealing another kiss before turning to make his coffee the way he likes, refilling her own in the process. "Love you, too."

His palm skims her back, lands on her hip as his mouth connects with her shoulder. "You were outside?"

"Yeah," she says, sinking back against him, lifting her coffee to her lips. "It's gorgeous here, Rick. The view? Breathtaking."

His lips are warm from his first sip of coffee when it touches the curve of her neck. "I agree."

She grins, bumping her head against his. "So charming, Mr. Castle. I bet you use that line on all your wives."

"Just the ones I really like," he quips, looping an arm around her waist, holding her tighter. His lips brush the curve of her neck.

"Funny man." Kate drawls, squirming away from his affection and taking his hand, leading him out to the balcony.

"Wow," he breathes, taking in the panorama of pink and orange, brilliant green, and sparkling blue. Kate nods, leaning back, fitting her body against him.

"Look at this place, Rick," she thumbs his hand, glancing up at him.

His head dips, his kiss gentle, quick. "I was talking about you. But this place is pretty good, too."

"Smooth," she says, knocking her head against his.

Rick chuckles, clearly pleased with himself. His arm tightens around her waist, keeping her close and sneaking soft kisses in between sips of coffee.

"You know, I never actually asked how your final went," he says after the whisper of wind through the trees has been replaced with the hum of life around them.

Leaning her cheek on his arm, she lifts a shoulder. "Oh, it was fine. I think I passed, which is all I could hope for after a quarter like that."

Putting their coffee aside, Rick's fingers slip into her hair, pressing gentle circles on her scalp. "Next one'll be better. Your classes won't be nearly as tedious."

He's right about that. With the completion of general chemistry, she's done with the basic courses and moving on to things more applicable to her major. But even then, she's not entirely sure everything will be better when school starts again. It'll still be stressful, plus–

"We'll still be on opposite ends of the country."

Rick's lips find her forehead. "I know, honey. We'll figure out a schedule, though. Better than the one we had this quarter."

It's not ideal, but what else is she going to do? Ask him to move to California? Move back to New York? Stanford has been her dream school since she was a kid, to transfer halfway through undergrad seems...

"Kate," he murmurs, lifting her chin. "We'll figure it out. And in the meantime, think of all the getaways we can take to help us get reacquainted at the end of each term."

Well, he has a point there. They certainly have been enjoying their reunion this time.

"That's true," she agrees, allowing his pragmatism to pull her from her funk. "I do like our trips. Even the staycations are good."

Rick nods, knowing he accomplished exactly what he set out to do. "Me too. And that's why I think we shouldn't worry so much about what happens in a few months. Because we will always have this."

It's cheesy - really cheesy - but somehow it's still sweet and sincere. Her arms wind around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, opening to him when he kisses her back. Her husband rumbles her name, easing an arm around her waist to lift her onto the railing.

"Careful, careful," she warns, bracing her feet, holding tighter to his shoulders. Her balance is good, but there's something reckless about perching so high above the ground.

Rick steadies her, his body a solid wall between her knees. "I got you," he breathes, trailing his lips along her jaw, down her neck.

Kate sighs, palming the back of his head, giving him better access to her skin. After a moment, she feels the arc of his smile against her collarbone.

"You picked the blue one," he murmurs, kissing on either side of the bikini strap, slipping a finger underneath the elastic.

She puffs a laugh. The blue bikini is relatively simple, two triangles and a matching string bottom, but it's still bright and sexy. "Decided to save the others for later; black's such a popular color, I wouldn't want you to lose me in the crowd."

He grins, ducking his head lower. His lips trail over the hem of her tank top, teasing with dipping lower. "Like that could ever happen."

"Plus," she continues, sifting her fingers through his hair. Her foot makes a lazy stroke up the back of his thigh. "I don't think you could handle me in the black one right now."

He grunts, tightening his grip on her waist, cupping her breast through her shirt. "I can handle anything you've got."

Kate pulls him up, sealing her mouth over his, her lips insistent, greedy. "Show me, then." She arches into his hand, welcomes the heat of his palm through her shirt. "Show me, Rick."

It comes as no surprise when he lifts her off the railing and carries her inside, taking his sweet time proving it to her. When they do finally make it out to the beach, she's wearing the barely-there black and gold bikini, just to make his head spin.

Prompt from @inmyveinsalways: The fluffy Friday, waking up in Vegas scene you did..I think it needs to be continued 😏😏

#Castle #Castle Fanfiction #Castle Fanfic #Caskett #Caskett Fanfic #Waking Up in Vegas Verse #My fanfic #prompt responses

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