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sanguine-tenshi · 3 years

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I just finished Inazuma and I have words

TL;DR: Hate the story, mixed on characters, love the design and tired of being treated like a 4-year-old with a learning disability.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Let’s start with what I like.

Inazuma is absolutely beautiful. I’ll admit Inazuma hits a lot of aesthetic points for me. All the islands are different enough to feel unique but they still look like they are a part of the same land. There are a lot of secrets to discover through just exploring. Each island has a world quest to help it (make it less hostile towards you) so it very much feels like you are saving Inazuma from itself.

The puzzles are alright.

I like the cubes that rotate, I always put in the effort to figure them out properly.

Hate the ones that don’t rotate, they just aren’t engaging enough for me, so I just hit them at random and hope for the best.

The glowing floor tiles were fun, once you actually realized what they wanted you to do. A little bit too easy if I’m honest.

The electro compass isn’t really much of a puzzle, more of a fetch the nearest electrograna quest.

Those little pillars that require an electro connection are kinda boring to me, again not much of a puzzle, the hardest part is finding both pillars.

I love the new electro seelie, kinda hard to follow the jittery thing in certain parts but they make a nice contrast to the regular seelies.

I’m very much mixed on characters.

Yoimiya is adorable. She is so bright and bubbly. What little game play we had with her was fun and I love her over the top style of fighting. Kinda disappointed she’s another pyro archer but I do admit it fits her character well. It was also wonderful seeing her just settle down and be quiet, just be a part of that moment that obviously meant a lot to her. It’s always nice to see that bubbly, energetic character have that one quiet thing, ya know. Kinda funny it’s fireworks, of all things, for her.

Gorou I like, from what little we’ve seen of him. My man killed a dude with his thighs so I’m down. I do find it kinda ridiculous that a resistance general has his whole damn belly exposed. There is also something about his voice that just does not fit. I cannot for the life of me put my finger on what exactly it is. Could be the tone itself, could be just voice acting. It sort of feels like the VA is trying to sound deeper than he actually does.

Sangonomiya Kokomi, mixed. I like her design, she looks like some sort of mystical priestess. Again something about the voice is jarring. I expected her to sound sort of airy, like she isn’t 100% present, like she’s seeing something we can’t. TBH she reminds me of Luna from HP for some reason.

Yae Miko, I was interested because of her design. She sounds very arrogant and up her own ass, which would have been fine...if she hadn’t given us that god-awful line. “...I have high hopes for you, child. Don’t disappoint me.” Dear lord I wanted to punt her off the mountain. Or fucking what! Also she’s some bigshot priestess of the Sacred Sakura and yet she can’t do her damn job properly. Why couldn’t her arrogant ass come down from her high perch and cleanse the stupid roots? Why did the traveler have to do that shit?

Baal looks dead inside. Booba sword is overrated, get a life. I want a remach! And no cutscene shenanigans this time!

Kujou Sara seems like one of those ‘honor above all else’ characters. Those are either hit or miss with me. You have my attention for now. Also what are those shoes woman?! I’d rather you wear those leg-killing, needle point stilettoes instead of those Wish gag shoes. How in the name of all that is holy can you run in those?!

Thoma, I like him. At first I thought we were gonna get another Childe incident, but Thoma is too much of a innocent puppy to pull anything that horrible. To me he fits a fox a lot better than Childe does. Childe is a dingo and I stand behind that.

Kamisato Ayaka...hate her. At first I was neutral on her. Nothing about her design really spoke to me, but I was willing to wait and see. But then miHoYo started to violently push her friendship at us. We are totally friends now, this is the first time you see my face, but we are so totally friends now. And during her story quest everyone was like “Ah, you are so good Ayaka. You are so nice Ayaka. You are so perfect Ayaka. We all love you so much Ayaka. And oh, how could a mere merchant like myself...” Ew, go away. This is the first time I’m actively not pulling on a character banner. Normally I pull even if I’m not particularly interested in a character, because you never know how good their gameplay is until you take them out in the map. But I think I’ll be skipping this one. No thanks.

And now, the worst part, the story.

We’ve been hearing about the situation in Inazuma for a long time. There has been also a lot of talk about how hard it is to get there. About the wall of thunderclouds that surround the islands. So to have it cut to black and then voila Inazuma, feel just so cheap.

I was expecting something. An animation. A struggle. A quest. A minigame. At least show us the horrible weather! Something! Anything!

Hell if they wanted to be assholes about it they could have made it so that if the player fails at this point the ship is damaged, you return to Liyue and have to wait until tomorrow for the ship to be repaired. No Inazuma for today. That sure as hell would have raised the stakes.

The next complaint I have is with Yurika, the 2 milion mora processing fee girl. Later on Thoma mentions that the agency people see the fees as easy money, so her attitude doesn’t make much sense. After all someone like her would want to extract as much money as she can, but you still want the people to be able to pay that.

So it would make more sense to me if she was overly friendly and asked way too many questions. She’d need to get a much information as she can and after all the previous hostility people would be very open with her. So she’d be able to quickly find out why someone is here, what they are selling and roughly how much money they’d be able to pay. A merchant selling expensive silk would have more many than a regular ore merchant. So she’d be able to extract as much money as she could.

“I know this is a lot of money, especially for something so simple, but there is nothing I can do about it. I’m so very sorry.” And people wouldn’t say anything bad to her because she’s the first friendly face they see in Inazuma.

The stealth mission was just god-awful and I hope we never have to do that nonsense again.

Getting off of Ritou was a bit janky at the end, Chisato should have had a better reason for coming along. But I’m honestly just glad we didn’t get out the usual way...getting stuffed in a crate and smuggled out.

As a side note, I’m getting really tired of characters overexplaining things to me, especially Paimon. Dear lord, not everything has to be said, you can leave me to come to my own conclusions and solutions. Just please, who cares if a few player struggle for a bit, you don’t have to hold my hand through the whole thing.

Ayaka’s three were...ugh. It was basic emotional manipulation. Oh no this guy forgot about the love of his life and he’s been waiting for decades. And oh how sad this guy was so good and he helped these people so much but now he can’t remember. And oh the tragedy this guy forgot his life goal and is now hunted by the demons of the past. Oh the humanity!

And it did not work. Know why? Because I have no emotional investment in any of these people, in this land. What is happening to the vision bearers in Inazuma is tragic, true, but that doesn’t make me want to overthrow the government. I don’t live here. I just got here. I wanna ask a question or two and then move on. None of this concerns me.

I was so happy when the traveler just flat out refused to start a revolution. And then we had to go and meet some people and immediately I knew this was going to be some oh noes the tragedy moments and then we would agree to help them.

It’s so forced.

Wanna know what would have been better?

Just as we are leaving the Kamisato estate Thoma catches up with us. And he tells us he gets it. We are an outsider and this doesn’t concern us. He was hopeful but he expected the denial. We shouldn’t hold it against Ayaka.

He joins us as a guide because he knows of the people we have to meet.

And so as we help these three we also get to know Thoma. We find out he was an outsider too. He got in just before the worst of it started and then he was stuck in Inazuma. He lost someone to the Vision Hunt. They slowly lost their mind after loosing their vision, their ambition too closely tied to their personality to continue without it (what is happening to Domon hits a little too close to home and he has to walk away, this is where we hear the story of the one he lost). And the same would have happened to him if the Kamisatos hadn't taken him in. He owes them his vision, his sanity and his life.

So this rebellion is personal for him.

At the end of the three wishes the atmosphere is somber. We tell him we understand why Ayaka fights, why he fights. We know that this is all wrong, that it should be stopped...but not by us. We came here to get a lead on our brother. And rebellion isn’t an overnight affaire and we can’t loose so much time in Inazuma.

And yeah, he expected as much. He just asks that we let Ayaka down gently. It’d be a shame if someone as idealistic and hopeful as her lost their spark.

And so we are gentle but firm with Ayaka. She looks like she wants to argue with us but Thoma shakes his head at her. So she sighs and tells us that a promise is a promise. We should come to the Komore Teahouse in a few days and she’ll have a plan for us to meet with the Shogun.

Now we can still have a character story quest with Yoimiya and we can still somehow get involved with helping Master Masakatsu, but it’s through Yoimiya instead of Ayaka.

And instead of a character story quest with Ayaka we have one with Thoma. Hell, give him a whole damn hangout event even.

You can probably guess why I’m pushing the friendship with Thoma so much.

Because. He. Gets. Kidnapped. For. The. 100th. Vision. Ceremony.

And that would have been the perfect emotional in to get us involved in the rebellion. After all we just saw what happens to people who have their visions taken away and we are not letting that happen to Thoma, someone we just got close to.

So Baal makes it personal for us as well.

I have a few more minor complaints.

Aoi is stupid for asking for compensation after she tells us everything we needed to know because, ya know, we could have just walked away. We should have.

The whole stupid misunderstanding about the value Kurosawa’s sword holds. Kinda obvious he meant emotional value instead of monetary.

The suspicious amount of visionless NPCs and by that I mean this is the first time we have NPCs with vision. This wouldn’t have been a problem if we’ve seen NPCs with visions in Mond and Liyue.

The whole rebellion camp bit feels incredibly rushed. We just sort of lollygag over there and then there is a fight (against Sara and her stupid shoes).

Don’t make us fight Baal just to force us to lose. It would have been better if we were forced to retreat, because Thoma was injured, because there are too many soldiers for us to handle on our own. Hell, you can have a funny scene where we straight up jump off a cliff with Thoma clinging onto us and screaming bloody murder until he realizes we are slowly gliding away and he’s not about to plummet to his death.

The Sakura cleansing quest should have been voice acted.

The Mirror Maiden and Pyro Agent are totally on a date, I will not be told otherwise.

#genshin impact #inazuma #genshin inazuma #genshin 2.0 #Thoughts #opinion #yoimiya #gorou #sangonomiya kokomi #yae miko #baal #kujou sara #thoma #kamisato ayaka

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jojoboisimagines · 3 years

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Snippets Ch.4 : Johnny and Josuke (4) with the Same Crush (3)

Previous Chapter

A set of multiple drabbles/oneshots combining characters (i.e Jojos) from multiple parts and AUs.

.::.

"That guy...do you think--" Josuke started.

"That's their boyfriend? No idea." Johnny quickly answered, trying to play it off as if he didn't care.

It was quite the opposite. He may have cared too much.

To say Johnny was jealous was an understatement. But it seemed like Josuke was feeling some of the heat too, seeing you hanging out with some guy and proceeding to talk about him with Josuke when the two of you went to lunch the other day.

Josuke was still in the dark about Johnny’s own crush on you, which was a relief for the jockey, but it was hell for him, having to be afraid of either guy winning you over first.

He just needed to muster up the courage to talk to you again, but it was a lot more difficult than he thought it’d be. You two always seemed to be busy when the other wasn’t. Of course he still had Gyro (and occasionally Josuke and Hot Pants) to keep him company, but he missed you.

The little spat the cousins had was forgotten for a while. They didn’t exactly apologize to each other, but just starting to talk normally again was enough sign there was no hard feelings. The younger teen was still very confused about Johnny’s intentions that day.

‘ Was he trying to be a good role model or was he just mad I was leaving him at home?’ he thought. It didn’t really matter to him anymore, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned about what Johnny must’ve been thinking, and if he still did feel that way.

They sat at a small table on the far side of the kitchen. Josuke, looking rather bored, held his head on his palm, while Johnny was playing on their shared Switch. Or at least, was pretending to be after Josuke brought up the subject.

“Hey, can I ask you an honest question?” The Japanese teen breaks the icy silence once again.

Johnny merely raises an eyebrow with a low ‘hm’ that was barely audible. His heart silently raced thinking of what the boy sitting across from him had on his mind to ask.

“(y/n)...how long have you known them?”

A simple enough question to start off with, Josuke thought. Yet Johnny’s lips still pursed.

“Uh...about half a year now. We got really close in that time I’d say.” That last part wasn’t even to get a rise out of Josuke, he just genuinely thought so. He really cared about you, romantically or not.

Meanwhile, Josuke had only known you for the duration of the summer, which was about to end in a couple of weeks. Perhaps if he’d beg Johnny to let him stay he’d have more time to bond with you, but there was also the issue of him feeling homesick from time to time.

God, if he could take you back to Morioh with him..it’d be like a dream come true.

They both had quickly forgotten about whatever guy Josuke was referring to earlier, mixed up in their own thoughts about their relationship with you. Besides, he had only ever seen the guy once, there was no way you’d switch up on him that quickly.

He had no dates or anything planned with you like he usually does, though. Not that he didn’t want to spend time with you, he just felt as if he was coming off as a little...clingy.

Higashikata had been trying to drop hints that he liked you, such as buying you things, having heart-to-heart conversations as he’d walk you home, calling you pet names, and ending his goodnight texts with a little heart emoji. He considered himself a romantic, but when it came to your reactions, you kinda brushed them off platonically. Perhaps you’d never been flirted with before?

His texts were still frequent, making sure you were having a good day and all, but he figured maybe he should start being a little more risky..

“What do you like about (y/n) anyways?” Johnny asked.

There was a pause for a couple of seconds, before Josuke scooted back in his chair and got up from the table, intending to retreat to his room for a couple of hours.

“The same things you do, probably.”

.::.

“Ow! Gyro, what the hell was that for?!”

“Because, idiota, you need to confess already.” He hovers over Johnny like a judgmental parent.

Josuke had left the house to get some groceries, and in that time, the jockey called Gyro over. Not for advice specifically, but that's what it had eventually turned into. Sitting on the floor of Johnny’s room (where it was painfully easy to find porn magazines, Gyro won’t let that go as long as the two of them live).

“Like seriously, this is getting embarrassing to watch, just do it already.” The Italian pointed a finger at his friend. “Sooner or later you’re gonna do the thing where you get the girl drunk and then sleep with her regardless of feelings.”

“Ugh, I’m not like that anymore Gyro!” Johnny folds his arms with a pout his friend knows all too well at this point. “I’ve never committed to anyone before, so of course this is a little more awkward for me than it is for anyone else, you know this!”

Indeed he did know. It was somehow one of the things they always ended up talking about.

“Listen, I know how this is gonna end. Its gonna end with you in this same room, bunched up in several blankets, listening to Fleetwood Mac on repeat with 3 pizza boxes to make yourself feel better.”

The American scoffs.

Gyro sits upright on his bed. “I’m right. Look, this gal means a lot to you, I know. I’ve seen it. You’ve never stared at someone with such a…not hateful look in your eye.” It was half a joke, half truth. “And I don't wanna see you sad, so you’re just gonna have to pull yourself up, grow some steel balls, and ask them out. For real. For both of our sakes at this point.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Wow, Gyro wants me to be with a girl? Pigs must be flying.”

“You are so not funny.” The Italian’s teeth flashes for a moment as he scowls.

“Alright, since you’re such a casanova, why don’t you tell me what to say to them?” At this rate, there was really no other choice for Joestar to take. He could ask Hot Pants, but knew she would give him similar advice.

“Nyo-ho! I’ll show ya! All you gotta do is gimme your phone.”

As soon as the word ‘gimme’ was uttered, the jockey clutched his phone as if it was a baby. The last few times he lended his friend his phone, it didn’t go so well.

Gyro would’ve snorted if he wasn’t serious about this.

“Come onnn! It--”

“Won’t go like the last three times, right? Fat chance.”

“Just hurry and hand it over before I tackle you!”

The larger man did that far too much already, much to Johnny’s dismay. Once Gyro had him in a headlock, there was no getting out of it. He defeatedly raised his phone up to the man for him to take.

“If you ruin anything, I’m doing the same thing to you, AND taking your damn horse.” The Italian waved him off as if he was merely an angry toddler. As he typed, Johnny tried to peer over and see, but his friend was too adamant on turning side to side so he couldn’t. The expressions Gyro was making wasn’t a good sign either. First confused, then mischievous, then looking a little too proud of himself. The jockey’s hands could start sweating at any moment from the sheer anxiety this was giving him.

“Aaaaaand done! There we go, all set!”

Johnny reached for his phone as soon as the words left his mouth, unapologetically in a snatching manner to immediately read the text sent.

::‘Hey This is Johnny darling. Hope your day has been as beautiful as your smile. I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow by 12pm. I have something very important to tell you. See you soon xoxo.’::

Alright, so it wasn’t as bad as he thought itd be (not nearly as bad as the time Gyro dared him to send a ‘send nudes’ text to you) but god, it would look suspiciously out of character for you to see. He can’t even remember the last time he typed ‘darling’ instead of ‘darlin’ and actually bothered to punctuate his texts. And who even used ‘xoxo’ anymore?

His friend looked at him with a big grin, waiting for his reaction. A slightly more pure smile than if he were waiting for Johnny to get a joke.

“Soooo what do you think? You gotta pick some nice clothes out for your date.”

The shorter man sighs.

“Its...passable.”

.::.

Josuke got home a little later than he expected. He was surprised to see there was still Prince CDs in stock at the store. Thats one of the perks of coming to America, he guessed. He was more than ready to put them into one of Johnny’s old CD players he had found. It was already hard for him to listen to pretty much anything without thinking of you. At least if it was Prince specifically, it would help him feel better and he could jam out to it.

Finally finding the track he wanted, he grinned, letting the music play out loud and hopping on his bed. It was a good few minutes before he had started getting that feeling in his gut again.

..Crap, this wasn’t helping either.

The teen felt that he couldn’t endure this much longer. Love was something he took very seriously and to be so unsure about your relationship just made him feel funny. He had to at least know for sure if the both of you were on the same page. Josuke was sick of being so anxious about it.

Josuke laid down flat on his back, pulling his phone out.

“You know what? I’m gonna ask them out.”

#jojo #jjba #jjba x reader #Josuke Higashikata #josuke x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #Johnny Joestar #johnny joestar x reader #jojo x reader

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keyofjetwolf · 4 years

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Bonus Question Answers! (anime heat 2)

I asked a silly question! You gave me incredible answers. SO VERY MANY INCREDIBLE ANSWERS. Now, I present my favourites! And really, they were ALL favourites. Mmm, headcanony goodness.

Oh, special shoutout to this unattributed one, which I suspect fell prey to someone submitting early, but as phrased, made me snort laugh: “one of my longest held headcanons is that ami“

SAME, FRIEND

Anyway, If your answer is listed below, you’ve earned an entry in a random draw to win a GIFTENING liveblog OF YOUR CHOICE

—

Q: Senshi headcanon time! Intrigue me, humour me, crush me, FEED ME.

* Michiru actually did have a guardian cat, once. It was silvery grey with dark blue eyes. It did not speak, but it was always there to provide support and comfort in a life which had little of either. The first time Michiru had a strong vision, which left her cold and senseless on the floor of her room, it was the small warmth from her cat that brought her back to the world of color and light and solidity. The cat was a friend and confidante in those early days, when Michiru was unsure if this experience was real or the beginnings of schizophrenia. The fact that her mother could see the cat, and regularly make comments about the uncleanliness of such creatures, was proof of Michiru's new reality. So when the cat entered the fray to distract a youma, saving Michiru, but being killed in the process, it became one more thing that the Moon had given her, only to steal away. Michiru promised herself to never rely on another again, or to allow the Moon to have her heart again. And she had done fairly well at this. Haruka, for all her charms, was a plaything, and not something to sacrifice herself for. But pausing outside the Marine Cathedral, Michiru found herself looking into dark blue eyes, so different, but so similar, and knew that she would do anything and everything in her power to keep from having to watch them close, again. -- @incorrecttact [YOU ARE ALSO KILLING THESE QUESTIONS. This hit me right in the kokoro, and I welcomed its sweet sweet pain.]

* Mako teaches Hotaru, Chibiusa, and the Amazon Quartet to cook and bake as a bonding activity. Hotaru LOVES making cakes and decorating them. Chibiusa likes cooking with noodles and even making her own; it doesn’t sound special, but the food she makes is DELICIOUS. Ves, the red one, finds cooking easy, but doesn’t like it and so never does outside of being coaxed into it. Jun, the green one, finds baking easy, but also doesn’t like sweet things, which limits her repertoire. Cere, the pink one, has no natural talent, but she very much WANTS to be good at it, so she turns out to be the best cook of her Senshi group. Palla takes to neither, but she is very enthusiastic about eating their experiments. -- Jules [I am an absolute slut for Mako and moments with the kids, and including the Quartet was a brilliant stroke.]

* A Serenity is not supposed to be reborn. They are born, they live, they die, and they are done. They are not like the Senshi, whose souls reincarnate, carefully bound to Serenity blood. They are not supposed to be reborn, so when Queen Serenity sees everything fail and decides to send their souls to the future, the Senshi are easy. Serenity is not. In desperation, Serenity does something she would have never considered in any other circumstance: she ties Serenity's soul to the Senshi. What was once a one way tie, has now become an equal bond, and so everything changes. -- @madegeeky [Ooo, this is some lovely twists on my own reincarnation headcanons, while still keeping the “this is a mistake” flavour. IT TASTES GOOD.]

* How about more Rei whistle antics? You headcanon Usagi would use the whistle for every mundane thing and Rei would come. Usagi would do this at 2 AM in the morning too and Rei would still be woken up and still come even in pajamas if she need be because Usagi had a spooky nightmare or "Rei-chan I fell off my bed and now my face hurts". Knowing Rei whistle antics can be funny for us and maybe aggravating for Rei at times because "Usagi you blew the whistle because you fell off the bed?" what if we can make it a pinch sad? Like what if Rei can tell what sort of peril Usagi is in by the way she blows the whistle in tone? Like when it's a sad somewhat weaker whistle, even if it's just a tiny subtle tone, Rei can IMMEDIATELLY tell "USAGI IS SAD AND NEEDS ME" and she will RUSH over in 5 seconds like in her Rei way, she might even have the mind to bring snacks, cocoa and plush to hug for the comfort. -- Mrs. Duckling [HOW ABOUT INDEED. I hadn’t thought about the different ways the whistle can be blown and what it might say, what a wonderful addition. THANK YOU FOR CATERING DIRECTLY TO ME AND MY NEEDS]

* PGSM!Sailor Mars - [REDACTED] Oh. Right. You're not there yet. Awkward... Anime!Minako is a huge fan of romance manga, but for all the wrong reasons. She tried drawing doujinshi of crack ships before realizing that A) she's not really a writer and B) she's REALLY not an artist. She plans on using some of her rich idol singer money to commission really bizarre romance stories. The sort that make you go WTF?! Of course, step one is "become a rich and famous idol"... Meanwhile, Rei also buys the romance manga that Minako gets into, (partially so she'll shut up about it) but mainly just analyzes them for mood and the characters, and gets frustrated when they inevitably devolve into nothing but sappy kissing and mooning over each other. She's trying to see why Minako gets so obsessed, but doesn't want to flat out admit that she doesn't get it and have to ask. -- Peter "Pigeons!" Svensson [I had nothing but fun with this, fantastic. ps: THANK YOU FOR THE PIGEONS NOMINATION]

* If these four* Senshi were to meet you, I think they'd each also be meeting some of their best qualities: Usagi is love, and that love is infectious as HELL. Much like a certain blogger who has amassed an international following on the strength of her love for her favourite media, wouldn't you say? Ami is very impressed by your office set-up! But when she sees you re-enter the room with a sprightly little black cat riding on your shoulder, she knows she has discovered a kindred spirit. Where can Rei-chan possibly begin? From your passionately informed and encyclopedic knowledge of their interactions ("She has RECEIPTS, Usagi!"), to your, let's call it tenacity ("She stirred that sugar for TWO HOURS, Usagi!!"), Rei finds so much to admire. And while no one could ever possibly love Rei as much as she loves herself, she magnanimously allows that you are a close second. As for Haruka, well! World Shaking? More like Toilet Breaking! You wrecked that shit and unleashed the sea. She can certainly relate *eyebrows, eyebrows* *would that i had time to write out blurbs for the others! but we're heading back into lockdown today, and i need to get to the post office to mail you a package. PRIORITIES! xo -- @rasiqra-revulva [Okay look when I said “crush me” I didn’t mean WITH NICENESS. Also thank you for the huge laughs. *eyebrows, eyebrows*]

* Minako manages to write a tell-all book (anonymously, of course, and with names changed to protect the relevant,) about their first few years as Senshi in the lull between Stars and Shit Escalating Again. Even more astoundingly, she manages to get it optioned as a film and play Sailor Mars without blowing her cover! Rei seethes. Minako’s annoyed because she tried out for Usagi. Usagi’s just happy Minako’s successful. The film manages to pick up nominations come award season, and Michiru even arranges for the rest of the Senshi to attend. Minako loses to some film from a really overrated director that manages to out-award bait her reenactment of D-Point. She’s silently fuming through his acceptance speech when he’s Burning Mandala’d mid-sentence. And that’s how the Senshi discovered that Jadeite survived getting run over with planes, joined the entertainment industry after Beryl’s defeat, and had been using it to drain energy ever since! Sailor Mars’s speech about how he disgraces the passion of filmmakers everywhere and her comrade’s hard work goes viral. -- Regalli [LOVED THE TWIST ENDING, also Rei basically stealing the awards show stage, as we all know she would]

* Not Senshi, but cats! One day, when Usagi is queen, she's going to decide to knight the cats. Luna thinks it's silly and figures Usagi is just acting on a whim, but Artemis has his chest puffed out and is glowing with pride. They're given tiny medals made by Endymion. -- RibbonFinale [Oh I DID want this. I wanted this very much, THANK YOU.]

* Makoto can't culture bonsai trees. It's not a matter of ability, or scale — she can work with tiny tools with equal facility as large ones — but she can't bring herself to push the things down, to cut and twist and bind them to grow the way _she_ wants, not the way it wants to grow. The tiny pine she bought to try it out, years ago, is in a pot in the corner of her apartment; it's just now grown taller than she is. -- Taperwolf [I didn’t expect this one to hit me as hard as it did when I started reading. Love it, love it, love it.]

* You know those 'meetings Usagi doesn't know about'? the ones where the girls dive into the nitty gritty about being senshi, the ones where they decide who will take up being the Disguise Pen Decoy if Minako is killed? Usagi knows about them. it was one of those 'character A eavesdrops and hears character B talking about them' setups, but instead of hearing Ami call Usagi a ditz, she hears Ami saying 'I'm the weakest fighter, if Minako is assassinated and we need someone to be decoy it'd be easier to explain away my absence than Rei's or Mako's' In these meetings they speak very coldly about themselves, Ami is always first to call herself the weak one, Minako calls into attention her showboating, Mako will openly remind people she doesn't think things through on the battlefield, and Rei derides herself on her inability to keep her cool (heh) and they all come up with contingencies to cover for eachother to the minutest detail. Usagi only ever evesdrops on one of these meetings, but now she knows they happen. and she can't un-know. -- Vega [OOOOOOOOOOOOOO.]

Manga Sailor Pluto has picked her nose 2,013,417 times. -- too ashamed to say [WHY THE SHAME THIS IS CORRECT AND NOW RIGHTFULLY CANON]

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I’ll be drawing for the bonus liveblog around the start of THE GIFTENING 2020 (currently looking to be Monday, 11 January 2021). Each bonus question is another chance to earn an entry! I CAN ABSOLUTELY AND SHAMELESSLY BE BOUGHT.

#the giftening 2020 #THE GIFTENING 2020 admin stuff #THE GIFTENING 2020 bonus q

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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

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Prototypes, Pekingese, and Other Things That Might Test Your Patience

Steggy Week 2k20, day 1 Prompt: Domestic Bliss

Summary: Sunday afternoon, Steve comes home from the movies and finds Peggy sitting on the sofa, having what seems to be a staring contest with the ugliest little dog he’s ever seen.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents for organizing!

Sunday afternoon, Steve comes home from the movies and finds Peggy sitting on the sofa, having what seems to be a staring contest with the ugliest little dog he’s ever seen.

To be clear, the dog is the kind of ugly that probably means that its ancestors came over on the Mayflower and it is the result of centuries of very carefully considered and high-standard breeding which would put Steve’s own pedigree to shame. That said, the animal has been left with a flat face, watery eyes, sharp little teeth, minuscule legs, a coat that probably weighs more than its actual body, and an apparent tendency to snuffle even when at rest.

None of this makes a good first impression.

“Hello,” Steve says carefully, closing the door. “I thought you were finishing up the Beckworth operation today.”

“We did.” Peggy breaks her stare with the dog on the floor in front of her, sounding sour. “The first part went absolutely swimmingly. He was entirely willing to reveal the location of the safe while showing off for Gladys.” She gestures to a curly blonde wig lying on the side table. “The distraction was timed perfectly, and I was able to crack back in while he was gone and remove the prototype before calling for backup. We arrested him without incident. It was all as smooth as you like, textbook even, until I gave the prototype into the care of Fletcher in evidence collection - you’ve met him, ginger, entirely too tall? - and the man immediately dropped it on the floor only to have it eaten by this thing.” She glares again at the dog. “And now it has to be watched while we wait for the prototype to...pass, so it can be used as evidence and then handed over to Howard and his merry band for examination.”

“Ah.” Steve lowers himself into a chair, keeping a careful eye on the dog. It seems the type to be easily unsettled by simple things in its surroundings. “And it needs to be watched here? By us?”

“Well, after what happened today, I’m certainly not going to give more responsibility to Fletcher or any of the so-called experts in evidence collection.” They’ve barely finished staffing the various departments over at SHIELD, but Steve now suspects based on her tone that they might be going back to the drawing board in some places. “Of course, I wouldn’t trust Howard to take care of it himself, and Jarvis and Ana have been told by the adoption agency to be on the alert in the next few weeks—”

“Hey, that’s great!”

“It is, but of course it means that they should have as much time as possible to prepare themselves, which does not at all fit with taking responsibility for this. And, of course, I’m trying to build a more official reputation for the organization. As reliable as Jarvis has proven himself to be, I’d like us to try to appear slightly less homegrown than we have in the past, at least for the moment.”

Steve looks around himself at the living room of their home, then down at the dog, which has started to pace and sniff around itself. “So it’s up to us.”

“Yes. But I can’t imagine it will take long for the prototype to reappear, and then they will both be off our hands.”

Peggy comes home on Monday evening and, flipping through the mail on her way down the hall, nearly forgets to even look for the dog until she reaches the kitchen where Steve is washing dishes.

“You didn’t call,” she says, “so I assume that the prototype is still…”

“As far as I can tell,” Steve says, looking a little worn. “And I’m pretty familiar with what did come out of him today.”

“How was—” she tries, just as a high, incessant yapping starts from the front room.

“Sorry, he’s been looking out into the yard all day, going nuts over squirrels, birds, the mailman, anything. It’s a good thing there weren’t any Girl Scouts going door to door today,” Steve apologizes before calling tiredly toward the next room, “Knock it off, Eliot.” To Peggy’s surprise, the sound turns to a whining, nasal growl, which is at least softer.

“You gave it a name?” she asks, kissing him quickly as she leans to put the mail on the counter.

“He didn’t come with one that I could figure out, and I had to call him something.”

“And why decide on Eliot?”

Steve finishes drying off his hands, then points into the trash can where there’s a pile of shredded paper mixed in with the usual garbage.

“I guess the books looked at him funny because he started clawing at them pretty early on. I managed to move most of them up to higher shelves before he got them too bad, but he really did a number on Middlemarch. Moby-Dick, too, but he didn’t exactly seem like a Herman any more than he looked like a George. And I guess I could have called him Pepper, because he knocked that over too, but he’s the wrong color.”

Eliot comes, nails clicking, into the kitchen to bark at their feet. Peggy stares down on him. She sighs.

“Well, your instincts about Melville were spot on, at least,” she tells the dog, and takes her husband upstairs to show her gratitude for his forbearance.

When Peggy calls Tuesday morning and tells Steve that she’s scheduled a veterinary appointment for Eliot that afternoon, he groans aloud down the phone line.

“He’s actually finally quiet,” Steve says, watching from out of the corner of his eye as Eliot yawns, peers out the window, and seems to start dozing again. “If I take him out somewhere new…”

“Yes, but that place might be able to offer some guidance about when we might get to see the prototype again, and therefore when we might never have to see the dog again.”

Eliot shies away from anything particularly cold or shiny at the vet’s office in a way that Steve remembers from his own earliest medical experiences. He keeps up a constant, quiet growl; Steve considers it polite if anything based on the lowered volume, and luckily none of the staff seem overly concerned or insulted. Then again, they aren’t actually that helpful either: the vet cheerfully informs Steve that these things usually pass by themselves within a few days, and as long as Eliot is still able to eat, drink, and play normally there’s no reason to be concerned.

“You can come back in if something changes, and of course, if you’re really concerned, I can refer you to a colleague about an hour away who can do an x-ray of the little fella,” the vet offers, and then quotes a price for it that makes Steve laugh reflexively at what must be a joke. (It isn’t.)

The only helpful piece of advice comes at the end of the visit.

“Fur like that,” the vet says, going over to the door, “I’d expect you must be showing him.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, dog shows, contests, like that.”

“You mean we can get him trimmed if we don’t care about all that?” Steve asks, relieved. He’s wearing his only pair of brown trousers today; even though Eliot sleeps downstairs, somehow strands of his long fur have migrated onto the black and gray pants which fill most of Steve's wardrobe.

The vet looks surprised. “Sure, though it’d be a shame. He’s a pretty fine specimen, after all.” He tilts his head, turning thoughtful. “Say, if you don’t really want him for that, I have a friend who’d love to get his hands on a purebred like this. Pay you nicely for it, too, what do you say?”

Steve looks over at Eliot. Despite the standoff the dog is having with a row of bottles on the doctor’s counter, he looks up at Steve with something very human and pleading and familiar in his eyes.

“No, thanks,” Steve finds himself saying, picking Eliot up in one arm. “I think we’ll hang onto him for now.”

Steve is as surprised as Peggy when she comes home Wednesday to find the dog lying politely at the foot of the armchair while Steve sketches. Eliot’s paws are forward, his face relaxed on the carpet between them. Steve had apparently been successful in his mission for the day; the nimbus of tawny fur is gone, trimmed to a more manageable - and, she’ll admit, attractive - level. She can actually see the dog’s eyes clearly now, blinking slow consideration, and his tail puffs up sweetly rather than billowing wildly outward.

“Well, this is quite the change of pace,” Peggy says, keeping her voice pitched low on instinct. Eliot turns to look over at her, but returns to staring peaceably through the window where the tree in the front yard shifts slowly in the breeze.

“Yeah,” Steve says, glancing down with...is that fondness? “He isn’t so bad once you get used to him. Or once he gets used to you. Melinda, the girl at the dog barbershop, said that he probably just needed to figure out how to handle a new place and new people, and that his breed can be a little bossy and vocal.” He pauses. “Also, she said he might have just been hot and annoyed from all that fur.”

“Well, he's at least sensible,” Peggy says, sitting down too. She knows she should go and change, should at least unpack her case, but there’s something comforting about sitting there, just listening to the scratch of Steve’s pencil, the constant sound of Eliot’s breathing. Without her thinking much about it, without even asking if there’s been any update on the prototype, she decides to stay a while with the two of them.

“He’s still not exactly the cutest little thing,” Bucky comments when he comes for a walk with Steve and Eliot on Thursday afternoon. Eliot doesn’t pay him any attention, sniffing busily at the sidewalk in front of himself as he trots along (although Steve knows that he’ll run out of energy pretty soon and slow to a crawl).

“Looks aren’t the only thing that’s important,” Steve points out, moving over so Mr. Sabitini and his grandsons can pass by. “Character plays a big role in things, and Eliot’s got plenty of that; he might be mouthy, but he's pretty intelligent, and considerate too. Yesterday he saw a boy drop his ice cream on the ground and started to nose it back to him.”

Bucky snorts. "Probably trying to sneak a few licks in for himself."

"I don't think so." Steve’s voice is firm, his glare hard.

Bucky stares, then shoves a hand through his hair. “Oh God,” he says. “You’re starting to identify with the mutt. You should have just called him Steve Junior.”

“What? No, I’m—” Steve starts, then shoves him over the curb into the street. “Shut your trap, Barnes.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Bucky laughs, and he gets back onto the sidewalk only for Steve to shove him over again.

At dinner on Friday evening, Steve tells Peggy about how Eliot has started to just bark a polite little greeting to the squirrels on the lawn, as if welcoming them to the home to which he’s graciously allowed them access, and then asks how the Beckworth case is coming.

“The prosecutor is optimistic, which I consider an accomplishment for him - he’s usually quite doleful. Of course it would be better if we had the prototype in hand, but we have the schematics and the testimony from the assistant…”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, as she trails off.

"Mr. Beckworth is seemingly quite...upset that we have taken custody of his dog. I read the report from his latest interrogation and it was all he spoke about.”

Steve swallows a bite of chicken. “He’s probably pretty worried about his life’s work being trapped inside him.”

Peggy shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I think he’s actually concerned about him. Unless he’s playing some sort of game, I believe he truly loves the creature.”

“Well, he’s actually pretty easy to love,” Steve says. “He just shouldn’t have to put up with criminals.” When he palms and drops a piece of his chicken on the floor for Eliot to sweep up, he tries to think of it as more of a consolation than a bribe. Peggy sees and shakes her head; apparently she’s missed the distinction

Peggy calls to say that she’ll be working late on Saturday, so Steve tells Eliot, “Guess it’s just you and me for dinner tonight, fella.” He thinks of what Bucky or Peggy would say if they heard that, groans, and then shrugs, because they didn’t hear it so who cares?

Eliot whines as Steve goes upstairs and shuts the bedroom door, but the house is definitely furrier than is preferable even after the haircut and the establishment of a daily brushing regimen, and there are some lines they haven’t crossed, at least not yet, so Steve goes to bed alone.

He wakes up alone too, several hours later, wondering for a blink what pulled him from sleep. Then he hears Eliot’s growl from down in the kitchen followed by a yip, as if someone’s kicked him.

For a moment, as he makes his quick, silent way down the stairs, he gropes for his shield, something he hasn’t done in years. But before he can really miss its presence, he hears Peggy say, “I’ll thank you to unhand my dog,” in a way that he can tell means she’s aiming her gun.

“I don’t know who you think you are, lady,” says a voice, “but this is Ned Beckworth’s dog.”

“It was,” Peggy says, perfectly calmly. “But Mr. Beckworth is awaiting trial, as you soon will be as well, and now it’s my dog. Just as this is my house you’re standing in, and my husband coming up behind you, so put Eliot down, if you please.”

Looking from the doorway into the dimness, Steve can only see the backs of the two men who have broken in, moderately sized and wearing black. One of them has Eliot under his arm, a hand over his muzzle even as he tries to wriggle away. When the stranger doesn’t move, Steve says, “She really will shoot you if you don’t let the dog go. She’ll get your leg no problem, even if you’re trying to use him as a shield,” and Eliot is reluctantly and a bit too forcefully released. He takes a minute to regain his footing, nails scrabbling on the linoleum after being dropped to the ground, but before Steve can say a word, the dog has vomited copiously onto his captor’s shoe before skidding over to Peggy and pressing himself against her leg. The prototype, its light still blinking a calm blue, lies in the middle of the puddle.

“Excellent aim, Eliot,” she says dryly, without taking her eye off the now loudly disgusted housebreakers. “But your timing leaves quite a bit to be desired. Steve?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Between the two of them, they pretty easily subdue their unwanted guests, and wrap up the prototype to deliver to headquarters in the morning. (Peggy says she’ll trust a retrieval team to take care of prisoner transport, but the prototype stays with her from this point forward. Steve, cleaning up the mess on the floor, says she is welcome to it.) Eliot obeys commands for “sit” and “quiet” for only a few seconds at a time before once again starting to dart distractingly around the room, barking. Still, once everyone else has left, he curls easily into Peggy’s lap and allows himself to be petted.

“He acquitted himself well,” she says as Eliot’s tail flips through the air, clearly pleased by her attention to his ears, “even if he isn’t exactly anyone’s picture of heroism.”

“Neither of us exactly was either,” says Steve, “so I think he’ll fit in fine.” He pauses. “Don’t tell Bucky I said that. He'll just start again about me over-identifying.”

She laughs. “I wouldn’t dream of it, even if he might have something of the right of it.”

Eliot barks in what seems to be agreement, but Steve knows for a fact that, if the dog could talk, he’d sell Steve out in a minute if offered a half decent steak.

As Sunday dawns, the three of them are still sitting in the living room, asleep together.

#steggyweek20 #Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #kinda wild to me tbh how the prompt that should have been 1000% in my wheelhouse left me scrounging for something but here you are!

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boogiewrites · 4 years

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No. 9 The Body Ch. 8

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve learns more about her powers while on a real date with Diego.

Warnings/Tags: Flirting. Sexism. Threats of violence. Canon Typical. Date. Diego Protecc.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

The day had started strong for Eve. She was being interviewed by a local women’s club for her transformation from using their services to becoming a respected doctor with a winning reputation. It’d been flattering and put a little perk in Eve’s step admittedly.

She was headed from a conference room, a much easier place to get to for a non-employee than her small office. But the ease for the interviewer was something she quickly wished she’d not cared so much about as she felt eyes on her, walking alone back towards her wing. She didn’t typically have to be around the board member hallways, it was a place most women avoided.

“Evie?” A familiar voice that immediately made her nose wrinkle came from behind her. “Long time no see.” Bryon Gray, a son of a bitch who happened to be a son of a chief of staff. They’d gone through residency together and every woman that had ever met him had quickly learned to avoid him. “What brings you over to this side of the hospital.” He gives her arm a faux friendly smack of greeting and she grimaces.

“I had an interview.” She answers flatly, his cross-fitted, legacy-name body blocked her path as he manspread across the hall and put his hands on his hips as if everything he said were to be stopped and observed most intently.

“Now I know everything going on around here.” He winks and taps his temple. “And I haven’t heard about you interviewing for anything.”

This may come as a shock to you Bryon but you don’t know everything, which is what she preferred to say. But instead, “It wasn’t for a job. I was interviewed for a magazine.” She says with a low brow.

“Oh! Which one? I mean, which ones are even in print anymore?” He laughs. “We talking the big NEJM?” He laughs. ”Oh wait, that was me.” He brags.

“No. It’s called Ms.” she begins to lean to initiate an exit.

“Mrs.? It like a wedding thing?” He asks with narrowed eyes. “I thought you were single.”

“It’s M. S. A feminist magazine started by Gloria Steinman in the 70s.” She wanted to slap herself for trying to defend it. He wasn’t worth it.

“Yeah that’s hot right now, isn’t it? What was it for?”

She sniffs and twitches her nose trying to not have such a knee-jerk reaction to this... jerk. "My work.”

“You are all work aren’t you Evie? Always have been.”

“Well, you know me.”

“I know Dads noticed the numbers you've been managing. Makes sense word would be getting around about an ex-stripper turned doctor who has the least amount of deaths of patients by a landslide would be a feel-good piece.”

She wanted to defend herself. To slap him and tell him to kiss her ass but she knew it would be fruitless. “Next thing you know they’ll be making a Barbie of me for all the things I’m great at.” She decides to retort with praise instead of defense. ”Stripper heels and a stethoscope would be a hell of a combination for accessories, huh?”

He gives her a look up and down. “You sure you aren’t dancing anymore? You’re looking... great by the way. Very… tight.” He motions a squeeze with his hands. More like how old male plastic surgeons do when they explain implants to young girls.

“I’ve been working out.” Another flat response as she clears her throat and begins to move far past him to continue back on her path. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Keep up the good work there Evie. Both professionally and personally.” She didn’t need to turn to look at him to know what look he had on his face. It was one every woman had had to suffer at some point in her life.

——————-

Eve was determined not to let some silver-spooned dumbass ruin her day. She had much more important things to put her energy on. Like going out with Diego that night. Oh, and saving people. Can’t forget that.

For early spring the air felt heavy and it didn’t help the sour mood that had followed her that day. She had stood too long in the shower, getting pruney, debating on whether to shave above the knee or not. She wasn’t gonna fuck him on the first date. No, she didn’t do that stuff anymore. But was it a first date? She’d known him for months now. Maybe best to not shave to deter her from making any rash decisions.

She’d been particularly mean to herself while trying to find an outfit to wear. She didn’t think she should be so easily frustrated with something like this but she realizes it’s been a long time since she cared about her outfit. Much less fussing over what to wear for a date. As always she played it cool, even when she wasn’t. She was relieved by the few pairs of stretchy denim she had still fit. She wrapped herself up in a black jacket and made her way to the gym in shoes that were nowhere near as comfortable as her usual sneakers. She figured boots with a heel were more low key than pumps. She rolls her eyes and swings her head to shake out the non-productive stream of thought.

“Hey Eve.” Diego’s voice breaks her out of the intrusive thoughts and she gives a smile that doesn’t give away that she’s been in a mood all day.

“Hey, Diego.” She answers in a relieved exhale.

They exchange pleasantries before heading off on foot in the direction of the bar. Her hands kept to the strap of her purse that was across her body. She hadn’t hugged him when she’d greeted him, but should she have? Should she… try to hold his hand? Was that too much? How do you date again? She chews the inside of her cheek.

“You worked today right?” He asked partly to kill the dead air but mostly because he was curious.

“You know I did.” She rolls her eyes and smiles.

“Overnight shift, huh? Have to pull anything out of anybody’s butt?”

He gives a wide boyish smile and she laughs in response. “Not tonight no.” she shakes her head. “What about you?”

“I luckily have not had to pull anything out of anyone’s butt.”

She laughs and gives him and below that knocks him slightly and as he returns to her side he stands closer than before. “Smartass.”

He smiles closed-lipped but proudly.

“Everyone’s always asking me about gross stuff. There are other things to ask a doctor…to ask ME about.”

“Like what?”

“Anything besides butt stuff.” She chuckles at her answer.

“Oh I didn’t think that was where we were going with this so soon BUTT-“

She scoffs and laughs and shoves him again before he comes back at her and smoothly, she must admit put his arm around her shoulders as they walked. “If it’s not then where IS is going?” She gives a playful pause. “Why’d you decide to ask me out?”

“Why’d you say yes?”

“I asked you first.”

“I respect you playing by grade school rules.” He teases before answering.

“What took this from two super freaks helping each other out to Diego asking Eve out on a date?”

“We’re still super freaks.” He corrects. “What do you wanna hear huh?” He gives a cocky nod. “That you’re… pretty? Smart? Funny?”

“I mean it’s a good start so go on…” she smiles.

“I...y’know. You don’t annoy me... all the time.” He shrugs slightly to play it cool. “It’s… easy with you. You aren’t a dick. Well I mean, a real dick. You’re a DICK don’t get wrong-“

“A dick but not a DICK-dick.” She clarifies.

“See! You get it.” He nods his head her way and she feels the sincerity he’s trying to give her in his way. They walk for a moment, the location in sight now. “You not gonna tell me I’m pretty now?” He jokes and hip knicks her before separating for the door.

“You’re very pretty Diego.” She coos as he holds open the door for her.

“That's better.” He bats his lashes and she walks in first, him close and protective behind her.

———————

Diego looks down at his phone with a sigh. “It’s my brother. I have to call him.”

“The serious little one from the gym?”

“ that’s the one.”

“ he doesn’t seem like a patient kind of guy.” She gives a soft laugh to show no hard feelings. “Go on, it’s fine. I understand.” She gives a nonchalant shrug. “If you have to leave just tell me first. Don’t disappear like you’re so good at.”

He gives a quiet, almost apologetic chuckle in response. “I won’t. I’ll be right back.”

Eve takes out her phone to keep to herself and pass the time. Five seemed like a very intense guy. Especially if he was someone that could get Diego to do something he didn’t want to.

“Hey.” She’d heard it already but kept her expression unmoving. “Hey, Girl.”

After the 4th time, it’s clear the guy sat between two friends who looked like they all fell out of the same legacy fraternities, and was not going to stop trying to get her Attention. she turns to meet his eyes with the most indifferent face she could manage.

“There she is. That guy leaves a hot thing like you alone?”

“No.” She answers flatly.

“He...uh, ya brother or somethin’?”

“No.” Another monotone answer

“Ah so is that lucky bastard ya mans then?”

She slowly blinks and takes her time to answer. “Why do you care?”

“I wouldn’t be letting you be nowhere alone if I was your man sweetheart.”

“Duly noted.” She turns back away.

“Oh, a smart one, fellas. You know I like it when they get feisty. What you do baby? You lookin' good as hell. You one of them dancers? Those freaky European girls over at the school?” He laughs and elbows his cohort. “Those broads talk all kinds of smart.”

“I’m a Doctor.” She continues to look at her phone and not engage. Diego would be back soon. And this guy was an idiot.

“Oh! a fuckin DOCTOR bros!” He mocks. “I might’ve listened to my doc if he had an ass like that.”

She sighs and feels her jaw tighten.

“Hey! I got something I need ya to look at sexy doctor. I bet you’ve never seen one like this before.”

“I’ve diagnosed the clap before so I have seen it.”

The guys with him laugh but he doesn’t.

“Why the ones with the smart mouths always such bitches?” He complains with a childish retort. “I was being nice and you gotta go act like that. You’re lucky your so hot sweetheart. Most men wouldn’t put up that shit.”

“Would you put up with it?”

“Fuck no, I keep my woman in line.” He says proudly

“Ah, good. So you can quit talking to me then. Because I’m just going to use words that further confuse you if you keep it up.” She rolls her eyes and keeps on her phone as Diego walks back to the table. For the moment the guy was silent.

—-

Eve excused herself to go to the bathroom, perhaps the beers had gotten to her. Or all the water she was forcing down her pie hole constantly it seemed. Trying to be properly hydrated was hard.

She was still distracted in thought, wondering how much she’d drank in water tonight to know how much she could pour out when she got home. She’d bought a jug with hourly markers because targeted ads worked and it was black matte and had-

Her train of thought is sharply interrupted by a forearm jutting out in front of her path. She looks to the perpetrator and there stands Chad. She assumed his name was Chad. He looked like one, acted like one. And if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...well you know how that goes.

“I saw you walkin' back here in those tight fuckin jeans and was compelled to continue our conversation from earlier.”

“No thanks, dude. I’d like to get back to my date now.” She answers flatly.

“Ya little man’s left sweetheart.” His other arm comes up and her now to the wall back was tense and defensive. Their bodies blocked the small back hallway and she hoped someone would interrupt them soon.

“Then he’ll be right back.”

“He answered his phone and jetted babe.” He tsks. “Yahate to see it. “ a predatory pout comes across his face as he reaches to caress her forearm. “And to a dime like you.” She tenses and noisily exhales. “His loss my gain yeah?” He laughs and she smells a nauseatingly familiar combination of nacho cheese and cheap beer.

“Excuse me...Chad? Is it Chad? I’d like to get back to my seat if you-“

“I’m right here baby.” He smirks and wiggles his jaw. “Face or my cock girl, I ain’t picky.” His hands move to her waist and pull her against him. She didn’t want to make a scene. To let this asshole ruin her date.

“I’m giving you one chance to get your fucking hands off me bro.” She bucks back, deeper voice and glaring into his eyes.

“Mmm, what are you? Where ya mama from eh? You must be a little Latin mami lookityou.” The slurring was beginning to stand out more. He did loosen his grip and she put as much space as she could between them. Progress.

“It’s none of your business and you’re being rude and you’re drunk. You should go home.”

“Only if I’m taking this back with me mami,” he reaches his hand to her ass and before he’s fully grasped she’s shoved him hard against the wall. “Oh fuck yeah hard to get. I’m gonna hold you down and beat that pussy UP.”

“You couldn’t even get hard you needle dicked dumbass.” She straightens her jacket. “Let me say this so you understand. Leave me alone. I am not going to fuck you, you fuckin rapist. You should be ashamed of yourself. I hope your mother's dead so she doesn’t have to see what a piece of shit she raised.” She moves to walk away.

His glassy eyes look a strange mixture of hurt to mad to confused.

“Everything okay here?” A tone she hadn’t heard from Diego before as he stood with a wide stance in front of Eve but eyes on the walking cliche. “You okay?” He asks softer as he flicks his eyes to hers, a hand lightly on her arm.

“I’m fine. This guy is garbage. Don’t bother he’s not worth it. Just another moron who never got to the cognitive thought stage.” She sighs and pats his hand, heading back to the table.

After doing a poor job of acting interested in Diego explaining something about knives, she kept seeing Chad eye fuck her from across the bar. She could feel his eyes boring into her. He kept looking and acting casual otherwise, eating and running and talking with his beef necked buddies. Eve was no stranger to harassment. She was a woman and a woman who worked in the medical field. She’d been accosted more times than she could count. From old men winking and having their dicks out to young men locking her inside of an exam room and not letting her leave until he got what he thought he was owed.

She wasn’t even mad about him anymore, her rage was fueled by every man that ever made her feel uncomfortable. Every creep ass ex, every older man trying to take advantage of her. She felt like her face should be hot and Diego’s words become background noise.

Diego didn’t notice for a while, too excited to talk about a new knife rig he was working on. He looks behind him at the sound of choking and sees the guy that was bothering Eve earlier trying to clear his throat. He notices Eve isn’t responding even when he stands and tries to gasp. He moves to see her still and focused with flickering eyes. Like electricity was behind them. He watched her curiously, eyes set like a lion in the tall grass. He looks back to Chad, now red and holding his throat.

“Eve…” he reaches out to touch her arm and he’s met with a crack of static electricity. She doesn’t even acknowledge him and the guys turning a weird shade of purple. “EVE.” He says harsher and grasps her forearm, feeling the tingle of hair rise on the back of His neck. “EVE! HEY!” he reaches and as Chad's eyes bloodshot he turns her face to him and breaks her focus.

The desperate gasp of air from Chad was immediate.

“Eve… what the hell was that?”

“What?” She blinks rapidly as if she’d just come to.

“He was choking and you were…” he lowers his voice and moves closer to her. Everyone was now preoccupied with Chad. “...using your powers weren’t you?”

Her mouth holds open as her eyes now normal flit back and forth. “I…” she feels it. Something she could identify. A cooling rush in her veins. “I hurt him.” She whispers in shock.

“Yeah, you almost choked him to death. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… I did that.”

“I didn’t know you could do that?”

“Neither did I.”

———-

Diego and Eve sit back in her apartment after a fast exit. She seemed worried, so he tried to hide his concern. He kept having to reach for her wrist to keep her on track and eventually settled on holding her hand. They hadn’t said much on the walk back. She was coming to terms with a lot and once again they’d fallen back into the roles of helping each other through these secret things only they understood and out of the dating pool they’d tiptoed in successfully tonight.

“Look you can control them, alright? You can control healing and you can control hurting. They’re the same thing. You got carried away. And that guy was an asshole and he deserved a scare honestly.”

He rubs her upper arms and she wipes at her face with a tissue. “I’m sorry for...ruining tonight.” She sighs out with eyes now makeup-free.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He grimaces. “We’ve just… got sidetracked. It happens.” He shrugs and tries to be supportive.

“I’ve had such a bad day, Diego.” She laughs to not cry and meets his eyes. “I didn’t want to cancel because of it and let it win. But I’ve been so sensitive today. I don’t know.”

“What happened?.” He moves to pull her to the edge of her bed.

“There’s just this guy, Brian at work and he was shitty to me today-“

“Brian who?” Diego quickly interjects in such a dramatic way it makes her crack a smile while he remained serious.

“You don’t have to beat him up.” She gives a thankful smile and pats the back of his hands. He takes her hands into his and lays them in her lap.

“If someone's makin' you so upset you lose control I'm pretty sure I DO have to kick their ass.”

“Thanks. Your heart is in the right place. I appreciate it. Seriously.” She frees one hand as he holds tight to her others. “I don’t want to be known as the woman who you can’t talk to because her b- her friend might beat them up.”

“Your what might beat them up?” He teases with a smile.

“Friend. My friend. That’s what I said.” She whines playfully and he smirks. “He’s one of the director's sons.” She shrugs.

She’d just given him enough information to easily find the guy. Not like he wouldn’t have gone through every Brian in that hospital. “Why would he be a dick to you?” He takes her hand back into his and it makes her smile as she looks down at them. He held her hands in a clear expression of his want to protect her. She thought it was very sweet of him. But she didn’t know he had full intentions of beating the white off Brian.

“Sexism mostly?” She offers and Diego gives her a look of impatience.

“I ran into him and he said some things about my past in a tone that wasn’t nice and he’s in general very… sleazy and gives uncomfortable compliments. No one says anything because he’s Knox’s son so...he’s a privileged white dude. That should tell you enough.”

“It does.” He accepts her elaboration. She was quickly learning he was stubborn as a mule when it came to wanting something, particularly information.

“Then the guy at the bar.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that asshole.” He sighs. “I would’ve decked him but you seemed like you didn’t want me to.”

“I could r done it myself if I wanted. But I didn’t want to ruin the evening.” She emotes dramatically, saying it didn’t matter in the long run. “He was talking to me while you were gone the first time too.”

“Seriously? Eve. Why didn’t you let me knock his punk ass out?”

“Because Diego I wanted to have a nice date with you. Without involving fighting. We can work it out at training later. I didn’t want to…” she groans.

“Okay, okay. I...get what you’re saying. And I think you’re wrong. But I understand.”

“Thanks. Maybe we’ll get it right next time.” She offers with a tired smile.

“Next time?” His smile gives away his glad reaction to the insinuation.

“Yeah. I figured we could go out on another date. Unless you don’t want to?” He feels her hands begin to pull away and he keeps them close.

“No! I do! I do Uh “ clearing his throat, “I mean I’d like that. It’d be..chill”

She snorts a laugh at his recovery. “I’m excited to go out with you again too. Don’t try to play it cool I already know you. I know you aren’t” she teases.

“That’s cold man.” He deflects and they share a nice pause between them. “We’ll go somewhere where no one can upset you.”

“If you’re with me you could.”

“Normally I’d agree. But I don’t plan on upsetting you... You know. I mean it might happen but like...I don’t wanna hurt you. For real.”

“I think I knew that Diego.” She gives him a warm smile and squeezes his hands. “I don’t wanna hurt you either. I’ve gotten pretty fond of you. As much as I hate to admit.”

“I don’t hate to admit it.” He gives a dopey smile and she pays his cheek.

“Thank you for… everything tonight.”

“Was nothin,” he answers cockily.

“You can be really sweet when you aren’t trying too hard.” She says as they feel their heartbeat flip for a moment as they look into each other’s eyes a bit too long for it to go unnoticed.

“I don’t have to try hard with you.” He answers back softly and he sees his moment. She sees the tell of his eyes moving to her lips, that tilt of his head that made him look like a sweet little pitbull puppy.

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to thank him for everything he’d done for her. Properly. They could both feel the tension between them now. “Diego… I do-“

“Uh yeah, you’re right. It’s not- yeah-..” he stutters in reaction to what he thought could be rejection.

She smiles and rises to go after him as he puts space between them. “I WANT to, Diego I just don’t think right now is the right moment.” She explains gently with her hands to his chest and she yawns. “I’m exhausted from using my powers tonight. I don’t want to be… not giving you 110% if you get what I’m saying.” She wiggles her eyebrows and it knocks his defenses down as intended.

“Oh. Good. You...you’re right.” He chuckles shyly. “I can go now and I’ll see you at training then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She offers a hug instead of a kiss and he happily takes it. His temple to her temple for a moment and feeling her let out a content sigh in his arms. “Be careful headed home.” She offers as they part. “Despite everything I still had a good time tonight. For the record.”

“I did too.” He offers before ducking out the door with a “Goodnight. Sleep tight.”

She knew she would thanks to him.

@jaegeeeeer @diegos-butt @anglovesthis @likedovesinthewnd

#diego hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy #diego hargreeves fic #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fan fic

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 4: Winton

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Harry and Y/N finally meet Harry’s father and he’s not what they expected.

Word count: 5.8k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (original character: Thea as Y/N)

A/N: I’m on vacation right now and I brought my laptop to write but I couldn’t write with my family around so I’m sorry I haven’t written any new blurb 😂 I will next week when I get home.

The next day, Harry, Y/N, and Isaac came to the address Emilia had given them. It was a cheap tower block quite far from Harry’s North London house. Y/N found it strange that a twenty-something was still living with her father, but she didn’t want to judge anyone before getting to know them.

As the building didn’t have a lift, they had to use the narrow staircase to get to the fourth floor. The walls were stained and the floor was unclean. There was no window in the hallway and the only source of light was the blinking lightbulb on the dark grey ceiling.

“This place seems even worse than mine,” Y/N said, following Isaac as he checked every door for the right flat number.

With an arm around her shoulders, Harry spoke, “your place is still pretty shit, babe.”

“True.” Y/N chuckled, but then she realised what it actually meant. “Hey, I know what you’re trying to do!”

“Well, I’m not trying to do anything.” He shrugged. “You hate my big mansion anyway so, what’s the point?”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

As she shot him a glare, he burst out laughing and pulled her in for a hug. “I was only joking.”

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was. You should’ve seen your face.”

“Guys!” Isaac called from the end of the hallway, pointing to a door as the couple rushed up to him. “Here it is. Flat no. 28.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“You do it.” Isaac nudged Harry, who nudged him right back.

“No, you do it. Your girlfriend lives here.”

“One, she’s not my girlfriend. Two, you’re here to see your dad.”

“I don’t consider him as my dad so--”

“Oh my fucking god!” Y/N cried out as she pushed the men apart and knocked on the door, glaring at both of them.

Harry sucked in a breath. When he squeezed her hand, she could tell he was nervous so she patted him on the back and reassured him that it would be okay. Meanwhile, Isaac stayed quiet. Y/N assumed it must have been because of her, as they hadn’t exchanged a word since they got into the car, and she was dying to know if he was still upset.

“Hey, I--”

The door creaked open as soon as she spoke and Emilia greeted them with a wide smile. The girl put a hand on her chest, dimples dug deep into her cheeks as she stared attentively at Harry’s face.

“You look even more handsome in person,” she said.

“Thank you.” Harry pressed his lips into an awkward smile. “Can we—”

“Oh, please, come in! Make yourself at home!” Emilia pulled the door open wide and stepped aside for her guests to enter. “Have a seat. I’ll go get my dad.”

Y/N and Harry followed Isaac to the middle of the room. As Harry stopped in front of a bookshelf, Y/N soon realised what he was staring at. A family picture, in which Winton looked the same as he did in the photograph Harry had found when he was a child. He was young, only a bit older than Harry now, and Emilia was just a baby sitting on her mother’s lap. All three of them were smiling.

Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes squinted. She supposed all blondes looked the same as she found Winton’s wife very familiar but wasn’t sure whom she reminded her of. It took her a moment to figure it out. And her mouth fell open.

Ruby fucking Ellis.

“What?” Harry lifted an eyebrow when she shot him a glare.

Isaac understood right away so he laughed and said, “Emilia looks more like Winton.”

“Thank God for that,” Y/N said, still glaring at Harry.

“I’m not following, is that an inside joke?”

Y/N and Isaac exchanged looks with each other and almost burst out laughing when the sound of the door made them all turn their heads. Though no one reacted, they were equally shocked to see Emilia pushing a man in a wheelchair to the living room.

That’s him. That’s Winton! Y/N thought, but...what happened to his legs?

“Why are you all standing? Come here! Make yourself at home,” Winton said, pointing to the sofa, and Harry, Y/N, and Isaac reluctantly came to sit down at once.

“I’ll make you guys some tea!”

“I’ll help!” Isaac got up quickly and followed Emilia into the kitchen. He was only eager to get out of there and Y/N would have gone with him if it hadn’t been for Harry. She stayed with him even though she hated the awkward silence which took over as soon as Emilia and Isaac left. She wanted to speak up, but at the same time, couldn’t stop gawking at Winton.

Winton Styles was exactly how she imagined Harry would look like in thirty years, only happier than Harry would’ve been if he’d been jobless and living in a place like this. Harry was probably thinking of the same thing. And from his hardened expression, she could tell he was as disappointed as he was surprised.

He wanted to see a loser, an unemployed alcoholic who had to live on his daughter’s money. Not a disabled man who was content with having nothing more than a daughter who loved him. It was selfish and almost cruel to wish that for anyone, but Y/N understood and therefore couldn’t blame him.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” she spoke so Harry didn’t have to, smiling as she shook Winton’s hand. “My name’s Y/N. I’m Harry’s girlfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. What a beautiful name,” Winton said. “Harry is so lucky to be dating such a lovely girl.”

“What happened to your legs?”

Harry’s question froze Y/N to the spot. She stayed quiet and studied Winton’s expression, thinking he would be offended but he only gave a shrug as if he’d been expecting that inquiry.

“I had an accident two years ago,” was all he said before changing the subject, “but let’s not talk about me. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Harry’s an actor!” Y/N brightened but Harry’s lips stayed a firm line.

Winton put on a grin, slowly nodding his head. “I know. I’ve watched all of his movies.”

“He’s great, isn’t he?” Y/N said as she gave her boyfriend a nudge and yet, he didn’t crack a single smile.

“You know,” Winton went on, “Emi might be your biggest fan. She used to collect all your movie posters and learn by heart all of your famous lines.”

“Stop embarrassing me, dad!”

Y/N heaved a sigh of relief when Emilia and Isaac returned with biscuits and tea. Their presence made such a big difference as both Harry and Winton appeared a lot less apprehensive.

“She used to be a film student,” Isaac said before taking a seat next to Harry.

“Used to?”

“Yeah.” Emilia gave Y/N a smile as she plopped down on the armchair right by her father. “I’d only spent a year in college before the accident, and dad used to be a construction worker. Now that he can’t go back to work, I’m taking care of both of us.”

“That must be tough,” Y/N frowned.

“It’s all right,” Emilia giggled as she reached out to hold her father’s hand. “I’m actually thinking about taking acting classes. My biggest dream is to become a famous actress like Ruby Ellis.”

The name made Harry choke on his tea. Emilia gasped as he started coughing into his arm. “Are you okay?! Is something wrong with the tea?”

“No, the tea is exceptionally good,” Y/N answered on her boyfriend’s behalf as she took a sip from her cup.

Isaac hurriedly grabbed a biscuit and changed the subject, “these are also really good, Emi! Did you make them yourself?”

“Yes! I think I’ll open my own shop and sell these if I can’t make it as an actress.”

As Emilia went on and on about how she’d made those delicious biscuits, Y/N noticed Harry’s hand reaching inside his pocket. He was about to pull out the note when she grabbed his bicep and spoke quickly, “how old are you, Emi?”

“Twenty-one.” Emilia beamed, still unaware of the tension in the room.

“Really? We’re the same age then!” Y/N said, making her face lit up.

“Oh my god, you know what? I’ve always wanted a sister!”

“May I ask, what was the accident?”

Harry’s second question silenced the room once again. Y/N facepalmed herself as Isaac stared at his feet. They waited for Winton and Emilia to get angry and kick them out, but even though Emilia’s smile had disappeared, she still managed to keep her composure.

“Well, my mum, she...um...she was mentally unstable.”

Harry pressed his lips together as Isaac slowly looked up and Y/N’s eyes went round. It wasn’t the answer they had expected.

“She set our house on fire one night. Dad and I managed to escape but she didn’t. He went back in to save her but he couldn’t and lost both of his legs.”

Y/N suddenly felt suffocated, as if an invisible force was putting pressure against her lungs. She nibbled on her bottom lip, her eyes fell to the floor. She still remembered vividly the night her mother passed away, but if she’d been there and witnessed the car crash, it would’ve been the kind of trauma she would never have recovered from.

In a moment of weakness, she let go of Harry’s arm to grab Emilia’s hand, which allowed Harry to pull out the letter and put it in front of Winton.

“I’m sorry for you lost. I really do--”

“Harry--”

“--but I’m actually here today because Gemma couldn’t make it,” he said, ignoring his girlfriend tugging at his sleeve. “She wanted me to say a few things on her behalf, but I think it’d be better for all of us if you’d read her letter. Thank you for having us. I think we should go now.”

Before Y/N or Isaac could stop him, Harry had already got up and put on his jacket. Winton and Emilia were both speechless when the other two followed Harry to the door.

Isaac didn’t forget to thank them for the tea and biscuits as Y/N rushed down the hallway and chased her boyfriend down the stairs. When she finally caught him, she took his car key and handed it to Isaac.

“Get the car, Isaac. I need to talk to Harry.”

Isaac nodded and scurried off, leaving the couple alone on the staircase. Harry looked away when Y/N turned back to him.

“Would you mind telling me what just happened?” she asked.

He leaned a shoulder against the wall, his forehead creased. “That was exactly what we came here to do, wasn’t it?”

“But that was before we knew the kind of man he’d become,” she said, stepping closer. “It seemed to me that he had changed. You couldn’t treat him like the person he used to be twenty years ago.”

Harry tossed his head back, taking a deep breath.

“What?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Nevermind.”

“No, tell me.”

“Fine,” he breathed. “If Emilia is the same age as you, then Winton must have cheated on my mum to have her. He left when I was four. She was the reason he left us. I know we shouldn’t judge someone from their mistakes in the past, but it was all I could think of when I looked at him.”

“Shh, baby.” Y/N grabbed his face before he could turn his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise--”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s not keep Isaac waiting.” Just like that, he ducked right past her and continued walking down the stairs.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for coming with us,” Harry chuckled as Isaac patted him on the shoulder and got out from the backseat.

“No problem. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Wait!” Y/N spoke before Isaac walked away. She told Harry to give her a minute and quickly got out of the car.

“What is it, Smiley?”

The nickname made her whole face brighten as she ran up to Isaac. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but she’d missed it more than he might assume.

“You’re not mad at me?” she asked.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I was mad at you, but not anymore.”

“Good.” She put a hand on her chest and couldn’t stop beaming. “I’m still sorry though. I shouldn’t have told Harry about Emilia after I’d given you my word.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re forgiven.”

“Truce?”

“Truce,” Isaac said, shaking her hand.

They shared one last hug before Y/N returned to the car. She waved goodbye to Isaac through the window, as Harry started the engine and drove away.

It was late when they arrived at her block. He stopped his car in front of the building and kissed her goodnight as she unbuckled her seatbelt. But right before she left, she had to ask, “you’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No.” He pressed his lips into a soft smile. “Sorry I overreacted.”

“You didn’t though. I’m sorry I didn’t know,” she said and moved a strand of hair out of his forehead. “What are you thinking of right now?”

“Just…” Harry gave a shrug, his lashes fluttered. “I was fine for twenty years without knowing my dad, but now that I’ve met him, I--I’m not fine. And I can’t explain it, not even to myself.”

She stared thoughtfully into his eyes for a second. “Well, this might sound irrelevant but…” she began, tucking her hair behind her ears and laughing lightly, “after you left home for the first time and before we met again in London, I used to block you on socials, ignore all the news about you and refuse to watch any of your movies.”

“You’ve told me this before. It was because I broke my promise and didn’t come back, right?”

“Not really.” She shook her head. “I did it because...I didn’t want to know how great your life had been. I guess it’s just easier to think someone’s life doesn’t go on without you, and that they’re unhappy because they miss you all the time. When in reality, you know their lives don’t revolve around you, and that they’ll be happy with other people and don’t think about you at all. But it’s so simple to just pretend...you know?”

Harry held her gaze as he pursed his lips and cupped her cheek. His hand was cold, but she didn’t mind. She tilted her head, leaning against his palm to feel more of his touch.

“Winton was right about one thing today,” he whispered, making her eyes go round.

“What is it?”

His mouth twitched as he leaned in and kissed her softly. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/N’s nose crinkled when she snorted and wrapped both arms around his neck, kissing him harder.

“Hey,” he pulled away to kiss her forehead, “can I stay tonight? I miss falling asleep with you.”

“You can but I’ll be busy.” Her answer was rather disappointing, but she was always straightforward with him and he appreciated that. “I have an assignment to finish and I need to write. We won’t be able to do anything, but we can cuddle--”

“It’s fine. I’d only distract you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“I would.” He scoffed and hugged her waist to kiss along her jawline. “I’d want you so much and have to seduce you into putting your work aside to play with me.”

“You’re despicable.” She pulled his face up to peck him on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Will you make it up to me?”

“It depends on how you behave.”

“I’m always good.” He smirked and held her wrists against their chests so she couldn’t open the door. “Say I’m a good boy and I’ll let you go.”

“You’re a good boy. You’re the best.” She laughed, kissing him once more before he officially let her go.

“Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Good job, Harry! Take five, everyone!”

As soon as Harry returned to his makeup vanity, a makeup artist and a stylist rushed in to touch up his look for the second shoot after the break. His assistant brought water to him, but right as he wrapped his mouth around the lip of the bottle, he lowered it instantly and put the cap back on.

He turned his head fast, thinking the reflection in the mirror wasn’t real, until he actually saw Emilia standing by the entrance and waving enthusiastically.

“Excuse me.” He got out of his seat and made his way towards her. “What are you doing here, Emi?”

“I brought dad here to see you and your manager let us in!”

The girl said something else about this being her first time at a fashion photoshoot but Harry didn’t pay attention to a single word. He was busy turning left and right looking for a man in the wheelchair.

“Where’s Winton?”

“He’s waiting in the hallway.” Emilia pointed to the door and Harry hurriedly snapped his fingers to get his assistant’s attention. The girl put down her phone and ran up to him.

“Jo, this is Emilia. Can you please keep an eye on her?”

“Yes, Mr. Styles!” Jo said.

Harry didn’t say another word to Emilia and just stormed out of the studio.

He found both Jeff and Winton in the hallway. They were laughing like old friends, which made him wonder if Jeff knew who the man was.

“Hey, H! I finally met your dad!”

Fuck. He knew.

“Could you give us a moment, Jeff?”

“S-Sure,” Jeff stuttered as Harry forced a smile. His manager was taken aback by his attitude, but Harry wasn’t in the mood to explain.

He waited until Jeff was gone and finally turned to Winton. “What are you doing here?”

“I read it,” Winton said as he pulled out the letter from his pocket. He gave it to Harry who pushed it right back into his hand.

“Keep it,” he said with an attitude, but Winton didn’t react.

“These are some really harsh words. I’m not surprised they’re from Gemma as she’s always been a tough girl. But I do understand why she felt that way about me.” The older man laughed sadly as he put the letter back into his pocket.

It was then that Harry noticed the shoebox sitting on Winton’s lap, but he didn’t care enough to wonder what was inside.

“I have to get back to work.”

“I know you hate me!” Winton blurted, causing Harry to stop dead in his tracks. “I know why both of you hate me. And if I could go back in time to change everything, I would. But I can’t. So I just want to apologise.”

Harry stood still with his head hung and both hands on his hips. He took a moment to breathe and chuckled lightly.

“We don’t hate you, Winton. You must care about someone to hate them, and I don’t give a damn about you.” He looked up and pointed a finger to the door behind him. “I’ll get your daughter and the two of you will leave me and my family alone. Got it?”

“I tried to see you but your mother didn’t let me. She--”

“Stop fucking lying!” Harry raised his voice, knowing the people in the studio could hear him, but he didn’t really give a fuck. This man and his daughter had crossed so many lines and he couldn’t take it anymore. He had never wanted this to happen. He had never wished for drama. He’d been through some shit in the last couple years so why couldn’t he have one second of peace?

“I’m sorry about what happened to you and your wife,” he continued, this time, lowering his voice, “but you’re never gonna get our sympathy. You got some nerves to show up here and now you’re blaming my mother?”

“I’m not blaming your mother. I know she had her reasons--”

“Fuck off.”

“If you don’t believe me, I can prove it!” Winton pushed his wheelchair faster to catch up with Harry, who stopped right before he reached the door. “When you were thirteen you made it to your school’s football team and won the local championship.”

Harry shoved his fingers into his hair, messing up his stylist’s two-hour hard work as he scoffed. “Did Gemma mention it in her letter?”

“No, I was there.” Winton sucked in a breath. “Your mother didn’t let me talk to you so I only came to watch the game and left afterwards. Y/N was there too, right? I saw her in the front row. She was wearing a shirt that said ‘Y/N heart Harry’. And she was the loudest.”

Harry’s jaw tightened as he chewed the inside of his cheek. As much as he wanted to believe Winton was lying so he could end this conversation and continue hating the man, he knew Winton couldn’t have made it up.

“She made that shirt herself,” he spoke, his voice was thick but less alarmed.

Winton’s face lit up with a smile as he put both hands on the shoebox. “That girl,” he said. “She really loves you.”

“We actually met in the treehouse,” Harry murmured. He wasn’t sure why he’d said that, but he just thought he should let him know.

“Oh, really?” Winton chuckled. “Your old man did something right after all.”

“Doesn’t matter. It fell last year in a storm,” was all Harry said, and nothing else.

The men stood silently in that long hallway. Harry’s five-minute break had probably ended already, but no one came to get him, so he assumed Jeff had asked for more time for him to talk to his father. He didn’t want to talk though. The best he could do now was to just listen.

“I’ve missed so much in your life,” Winton finally broke the silence as he stared at the shoebox. “I was far from perfect, I know. I’ve made many mistakes but I’ve paid for them by losing my wife and my legs...and--and the better life I could’ve had if I hadn’t screwed things up with your mum...I just--I’m trying to be a better man, I swear. But you’re not a little boy anymore. You’re successful and you don’t need me, and therefore I don’t expect you to take me back. But I hope you will forgive me. Gemma and your mother might not, but I hope you will. You don’t remember the terrible man I was so I guess...it’d be easier for you to see me as the man I am.”

When Winton finished, he patiently waited for a response. Harry refused to look him in the eye so he cleared his throat and said, “one more thing before I go.”

He then opened the shoebox he’d been carrying on his lap. Harry finally took a look, his forehead puckered as he saw what was inside.

“I bought you these football shoes when you made it to your school’s team,” said Winton as Harry picked up the shoes and ran his fingertips across the scorch marks. “Anne didn’t let me give them to you so I kept them. I lost almost everything in that fire but I’m glad I could save these. You obviously don’t need them anymore, but it makes me feel better to finally be able to give them to you.”

As Harry remained silent, Winton released a sigh. “I’ll go get Emi and we’ll leave.”

“Hang on,” Harry said as he put the shoes back in the box. “I’ll be done by twelve. Would you and Emilia want to have lunch with me?”

“He walked in and saw...and saw her...Wait, no. He entered the room and found her sitting on the floor. Okay, that’s better. Sitting...on...the...floor--”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck! Alice!”

The librarian shushed the girls as Alice pulled up a chair and sat down next to Y/N.

“I’m so fucking glad we’re not working for her anymore,” Alice said, faking a smile at the middle-aged lady who was still glowering at them.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, Al!”

“Sorry, I’ve been looking for you all morning. I should’ve known you were here.”

Y/N shut her laptop right before Alice could read any sentence on the screen.

“Oh, come on!”

“You have to wait until it’s published, Al.”

“It’ll take forever!” Alice blurted and quickly covered her mouth when she received an unblinking glare from Y/N. “I mean...they have to edit and design the covers and print the books and plan a marketing campaign and all sorts of shit, right? That’s why it’ll take forever, not because I don’t believe in you.”

“Nice save,” Y/N snorted. “But my book kind of sucked so I’m rewriting the whole thing.”

“Gee, sounds like a lot of work.”

Y/N said nothing more about it as she gave a shrug. “Anyway, you were looking for me?”

“Yes!” Alice raised a finger, smiling from ear to ear. “Remember that girl Mandy? The one who took us to that nice club and you disappeared without a trace while everyone was having a great time?”

“Yes, I remember.” Y/N laughed, resting her chin on her knuckles.

“Yeah, well, she’s throwing a pool party this weekend and we’re both invited,” Alice said as she pulled out her phone and showed Y/N the text she’d just got. “She also sent you one but you didn’t respond so she texted me. Did you know that she’s like super rich? We’re officially the Kardashians on campus now. You’re Khloe and I’m Kim.”

“Why do you always get to be Kim?” Y/N laughed as Alice flipped her hair over her shoulder. “But I’m sorry, Kim, I’m busy this weekend.”

“Why? You’ve got plans with Harry?”

“No. I’ve got to finish the book before then.”

“You’re so obsessed with your book!” They both reached for the laptop but Alice got it first and moved it out of Y/N’s reach. “What would Harry say about this, hmm?”

“He’d say he’s so proud of me because he’s a supportive boyfriend.” Y/N smirked as she brushed Alice’s hand off her laptop to get it back. “But you should go to that party, don’t let me ruin it.”

“I definitely won’t. Have fun with your book, ya nerd.”

“Fuck you!” Y/N giggled and opened her laptop. “Now please give me some space to get creative, please?”

“There she is!” Alice said suddenly, pointing to the group of girls standing by the entrance. It was Mandy and two of her friends, and Y/N and Alice tried waving but those three didn’t look their way.

“I’m going over there.”

“For what?”

“To tell her I’m not going.”

“Good idea! Tell her I’m going though! Jesus!” Alice gasped when the librarian clutched her arm from behind and pulled her up.

“Strike two. You’re getting out of here, Alice!”

“Fine, I’m leaving! This is why we quit, Bethany!”

Y/N waved goodbye to Alice as the librarian dragged her outside. She prayed Alice wouldn’t get into any more trouble as she made her way toward Mandy. The girls were waiting in front of the librarian’s desk, all facing away so they didn’t see Y/N coming. She almost tapped Mandy on the shoulder to interrupt their conversation, but then she heard, “let’s hope she’ll bring Harry this time.”

The two other girls laughed as Y/N was frozen to the spot. Mandy had no idea, so she kept going, “she’s such a whore though. I bet she would suck any rich man’s cock and let them fuck her in the arse for some money. I can’t blame Harry and Isaac though. I mean, they’re men after all. They just want their dicks wet.”

Y/N cleared her throat and Mandy turned around, eyes wide with shock. Even though she was quick to cover it up with a smile, the colour soon drained out of her face.

“H-Hey, Y/N…”

“Hey.” Y/N faked a smile in return. “I just want to say I can’t make it to your party this weekend.”

“Oh, that’s all right. We’ll hang out next time then.”

“No, thanks.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I’d rather stay home sucking my boyfriend’s cock and letting him fuck me in the arse than hang out with you two-faced bitches.”

The girls dropped their jaws at the same time, but neither could say a single word for Y/N didn’t even give them a chance. “Do you really think you can bully me? I’d love to see you try. I eat rich spoiled brats for dinner. You might want to spread that rumour too.”

Y/N turned her heels and strutted back to her seat while Mandy and her friends were red-faced and tongue-tied. She didn’t give two shits about those girls. They couldn’t do anything to her. But her inspiration had evaporated and she couldn’t focus on writing anymore.

She blew out her cheeks and sent Harry a text.

Having a bad day! Need to talk to you :(

She waited for five minutes before sending another.

Call me when you’re free.

That should do, she thought, he’s probably busy.

But no matter how busy Harry was, he always found time to text her back or at least let her know he was busy. Something wasn’t right.

That afternoon, when Y/N came back to her block, she walked up the stairs with her eyes glued to her phone, still waiting for his reply. She’d tried calling once but he didn’t answer, and she didn’t want to call him again because she might be overthinking.

“Hey, T!” Blake’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up and found him standing right outside his flat. He’d probably just got home. “Any update?”

“I’ve finished another chapter today,” she said, pulling out her keys. “Could’ve done two but I got distracted.”

Despite her weary frown, Blake didn’t stop smiling. “Can I read it later?”

“I’ll let you read the whole book when I’m done.” Her mouth twisted as she unlocked her door.

“Oh, okay,” Blake muttered and also opened his, but Y/N stopped him before he went inside.

“You’re making dinner?” Y/N asked, pointing to the grocery bag he was carrying.

“Yup. Do you cook?”

“Never.”

Her answer made him laugh. “So you eat out every night?”

“Not tonight though.” She pursed her lips. “I’ll just make instant ramen or order some pizza. I usually have dinner with Harry but he’s probably busy. I haven’t heard from him today. Don’t know where the hell he is.”

Blake only nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” he said. And both entered their flats at the same time.

It was 9 PM and Y/N still hadn’t eaten. Every time she sat down in front of her laptop and started typing, she would let reality fade away and the concept of time no longer existed in her world.

She didn’t remember how long she’d been working. Only when the doorbell rang, did she snap out of it and stand up to stretch her limbs.

“Harry? Is that you?” she asked from her bedroom door, but it couldn’t have been Harry. Harry would’ve said something to let her know it was him.

Before she could assume something as bad as the rat delivery incident, someone slid a note under her door.

“What now, Blake?” She snorted and came to pick it up. In Blake’s sloppy handwriting which hadn’t changed since high school, it said: come over if you’re hungry - B.

“Hey, B!” Y/N shouted as soon as she stepped into the hallway. The second her neighbour opened the door and poked his head outside, she showed him the note. “Explain this.”

“Well, I thought you might skip dinner again,” Blake said with a bashful smile. “You always forget everything else when you write.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, staring at her feet, “well, thanks but...I’ve eaten already.”

“All right. That’s good.” His lips curved into a smile, but she knew what his happy smile was and that wasn’t even close.

She hurriedly said goodnight and ran before he could say it back. She was starving, but she still had instant ramen in the kitchen so she’d probably survive. Her having dinner alone with Blake would have changed a lot of things, even if it had been a platonic meal. She wasn’t sure if he still had feelings for her, but she couldn’t risk it. It wouldn’t be fair to either him or Harry.

Speaking of Harry, where the hell is he?!

“Where were you yesterday?” Y/N asked as Harry stepped into her flat and kissed her on the cheek. He seemed more cheerful than usual, which was actually concerning.

She watched him plop down on the sofa, and was about to repeat the question when he said, “I was with Winton and my phone was dead.”

His answer froze her to the spot. She crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. “Winton? Your dad?”

She just thought there being another Winton would have made more sense than him spending time with his actual father. But Harry didn’t look like he was joking as he gave a shrug.

“What were you doing with him?”

“We went out for lunch at first. Emilia was with us but she had to go back to the coffee shop for her shift,” he said as she walked over to sit on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Then he took me to this bar owned by a friend. We talked until it was very late. I had to call my bodyguard to pick me up as I got so fucking drunk and passed out as soon as I got home. I hate to admit it, but I actually had a good time.”

“That’s...great,” she said, smiling nervously as she placed a hand on his chest. “But baby, are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah, he’s actually not so bad. Can you believe he’d been to twelve countries when he was eighteen? And he used to play football for his university.”

Although Y/N wasn’t sure if Harry was making judgements with his head or his heart, she didn’t make any more comments. She just wanted him to be happy, and right now, he was.

“When are you gonna tell Gem and your mum?”

Harry leaned back against the couch and rubbed his forehead. ��I don’t know, but I feel like they’re gonna be so angry.”

“Don’t worry,” she told him, holding his face. “We’ll figure out how to talk to them.”

Harry nodded once and cupped her chin to attach their lips as he whispered into her mouth, “I read your text by the way. What happened?”

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“Yeah?” He smirked when she started toying with the buttons of his shirt. “Did someone bully my girl?”

“No one can bully your girl,” she said and licked his jaw, making him chuckle as he grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her away.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I already told you, love. I missed you,” she murmured and leaned back in, giving him a full open-mouthed kiss. He hadn’t even touched her skin and she’d already got her hand in his pants, squeezing and stroking his bulge.

“Can I have a taste?”

Her voice made him shiver. He nodded so fast his head could just fall off and he might not even care. She patted his bum, and he hurriedly lifted his hips for her to pull down his jeans. But before she could free his erection, the doorbell pulled them apart.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s Blake.”

“Fuck you, Blake—”

Y/N covered Harry’s mouth and shouted at the door, “give me a second!”

“What about me?” he asked when she got up and straightened her skirt.

“We’ll finish later,” she said, leaving him almost butt-naked on the couch.

Harry pulled up his pants and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling. He was cursing Blake for cockblocking him when the notification of a new message got his attention.

Gem: How was it?

His mouth set in a hard line as he read the text. Blake might not be his biggest problem after all.

What do you think? Do you trust Winton and Emilia? 🤔

#my girl series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fluff

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glitterslag · 5 years

Text

First Time for Everything - Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: In which Roger inadvertently becomes co-parent to a four year old before he’s even finished university. Oh, and he loses his virginity in the process.

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: single mum, broken family, bad relationships with parents, difficult sexual themes, period typical attitudes, homophobic language, poverty, some angst. Smut (virgin!roger, oral - male and female receiving -whipped cream), some language

A/N: First of all I wanna say thank u to the absolute lejond who requested this: you really unearthed a kink I didn’t know I had.

This, as usual, has turned into a bit of a Whole Other Thing. I’ve wanted to do a single mum oneshot for a while, and thought it would go really well with virgin Rog. Plus Roger with a toddler = automatic cuteness.

As y’all know I struggle with writing smut, and so I tend to quit while I’m ahead. Because of that, I’ve only included oral, and not the whole shebang. Plus, I felt like it was in keeping with the tone when Roger finds himself a bit overwhelmed with all the new sensations. I think we’d all agree that that still counts as losing virginity, though.

I’ve got to say I’m really proud of this. I think it might be one of my favourite things I’ve written since “Funny How Love Is”. It would be great if you could give it the same kind of feedback 🥰🥰

Enjoy xo

★★★★★

You had Robbie at sixteen.

Your parents sent you away to a Catholic institution for the duration of your pregnancy, as people often did back then, such was the scandal of being found out pregnant and not married. They had wanted you to give him up for adoption when he was born but you refused, and after meeting her grandson, your mother had relented.

They’d given you a little money to set yourself up, but insisted that you couldn’t stay with them. Too much shame on the family. You sometimes speak to them on the phone but it’s always strained, especially between you and your mother, and you always end the phone call feeling just a little sad, and empty.

Now twenty, your little boy is nearly four, and you’re living in a box flat in a tower-block in the middle of London. Roger’s just moved in next door.

He’s a student, just moved out of halls, making him the same age as you. It’s a strange realisation, to look at him. Realising that your life could have turned out a lot differently, had Robbie never been born.

You’re expecting him not to be very nice. People usually aren’t, not to a young single mother. Not one whose dye-job comes out of a packet, and who lets her four-year-old tricycle up and down the wooden hallway at all hours of the day. But he’s positively lovely.

That’s what Robbie’s doing, when Roger moves in.

“S’cuse me, little man.” He says, holding a cardboard box aloft as he waits patiently for your son to get out of his road. “That looks fun.”

And then:

“Hello,” he’s saying to you.

You feel him check you out, eyes travelling from your face down and then back up, and then back down again, all the way this time. The routine you know too well. You get it from nearly every man you meet. He doesn’t leer at you like most men, though, and you think to yourself that that’s something.

“Get out of the man’s way, Robbie.”

“Is your big sister bossy?” Roger asks him knowingly.

You swallow and start to say something.

“She’s not my sister, she’s my mummyyy!” Robbie declares before you can, throwing his hands up in the air.

You laugh and scoop him up. There would come a time when he might not be as proud to say that about you anymore, but for now, he would remain blissfully unaware that his unmarried twenty year old mummy wasn’t supposed to have a three year old baby.

Roger looks at you hard for a second, and you cuddle Robbie to your chest as you wait for his response, almost using him as a shield in in between the two of you, nervous. But there’s no need to be.

“Oh. Sorry.” He says easily, quickly disguising any judgement with a sunny smile. He sticks his hand out. “I’m Roger. How do you do?”

★★★★★

Over the months, you two develop a close neighbourly relationship. He comes over to fix your leaky taps, change lightbulbs, rewire the smoke alarm. As you get to know and trust him more, you eventually entrust him with Robbie some afternoons when you have appointments – doctors and dentists, things you can’t avoid.

One day, Roger’s complaining about his hair becoming too long and his roots showing and so on, and so you offer to do it for him, free of charge, as a favour. He says yes.

If he’s feeling dubious, he never shows it.

You come over that afternoon armed with all your gear, and when he opens the door Robbie charges past him shouting “Rogerrrrrrr!”, disappearing into the flat before Roger can even say hello.

“Have you got an old t shirt you don’t mind getting ruined?” You ask, eyeing the silky button up Roger’s wearing halfway undone to his belly button.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll go and get changed.”

The door to his room is open a fraction, and you peep through the crack as you watch him pull his shirt over his head and search for another one. He’s standing with his back to the door, and you admire his wiry physique, lean muscle rippling as he shrugs on a faded old Breakaways t shirt. You snap out of it before he can notice, and busy yourself corralling an excitable Robbie, setting him up at the kitchen table with his crayons and his juice.

You pull on washing up gloves and bleach Roger’s dark roots first, making sure not to get it on the ends and frazzle them.

“How’d you get so good at this, anyway?” He wonders as he watches you loading the product onto the brush in his bedroom mirror.

“My housing benefits don’t exactly cover trips to the hairdressers.” You say, gesturing towards your own bottle blonde head. “How light do you want to go?”

You show him the colour chart on the back of the packet, and he calls you “very professional”, about which you’re pleased.

You notice the crack in his bathroom window as you take him through to wash his hair, covered over with an old Woolies bag but still leaking freezing air into the flat. You don’t say anything.

You make him sit on the floor with his back to the tub, leaning his head back as you support it in one cupped hand, using the other to angle the shower head over his hair.

“Just like a real salon.” He quips, and you grin.

You massage the shampoo into his hair and he groans in relaxation.

“I love having people play with my hair.”

Maybe it’s because you’ve not had any action for such a long time, but the noise does something to you.

You dry him off and then it’s time to cut. You trim his fringe last, squatting down in front of him and frowning with the concentration of trying to cut straight, and you’re a bit nervous being this close to him. He keeps making silly faces to put you off, though, and soon he’s got you giggling like no one else can.

You gently blow all the hair off the back of his neck and he lets out another little strangled moan.

”Sorry” he says quickly, embarrassed. “Jus’ tickled is all.” You bite your lip.

“Right, of course.”

★★★★★

The next day you see him in the foyer when you’re both down checking the post. You compliment him on his new hair, and he tells you he’s been thinking.

“You should cut people’s hair in the tower block.”

“What?”

That boy has had a few crazy ideas since you’ve known him, but this has to take first prize.

“It’d be cheaper than going to the hairdressers.” He points out. “Plus you’re really good at it, you could make good money.”

“What would I do with Robbie?”

“Well you’d be doing it at home, wouldn’t you? He’d be there.” He says, matter-of-factly.

“Or..”

He trails off.

“What?”

“Or I could take him. While you’ve got appointments.”

You gape at him.

“I- I could make you some posters to put up if you like?” He continues when you don’t say anything. “There’s a photocopier at uni I could use. Use it to make stuff for the band all the time. ”

Perhaps against your better judgement, you reach over and hug him. He feels warm and solid, smells clean and good and you realise you’re welling up.

“Thanks, Rog.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, using his Robbie voice on you.

“No need to get upset.”

“I love you.” You mumble.

Maybe you hadn’t realised it before, but it’s true. The boy’s gold.

He puts his hand on the back of your head, stroking your hair.

“Love you too, darling.”

★★★★★

He comes over one night to borrow flour.

He’s started letting himself in at this point, using the spare key you’d given him “for emergencies only”. He always knocks to announce himself first, but you can guarantee he’ll be strolling in like he owns the place whether he gets an answer or not.

“Where’s the tyke?” He wonders when there’s a distinct lack of “ROGERR!” the second he walks through the door.

“Started at nursery this week.” You announce proudly.

“Christ.”

“Yeah.”

“Nursery.” He repeats.

“Yeah.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

“Christ.”

You can only grin back, chest puffed out with pride.

Anyway, he needs plain flour.

“Since when do you cook?” You ask sceptically, raising an eyebrow at him from the sofa.

“Got a date tonight.” He grins.

“Ooo.” You say, setting your cup of tea down on the coffee table so you can turn yourself properly to face him. “Is it that girl?”

“Tracy, yeah. She’s coming to my place for dinner.”

“Big step.”

Roger hadn’t had a girlfriend for the time you’d known him, and at first you’d suspected him of being more of a one-and-done kind of guy. But even though he was often coming in late from the pub or the club or wherever, there had been surprisingly little activity of the female kind coming from within the walls of his flat at night.

“Yeah, well. We’ve been on a few dates so far and it’s gone well, so I thought I’d invite her over to mine, y’know. Take things to the next level.”

You try to hide your disappointment.

“So do you think tonight might be the night..?” you trail off, but Roger knows what you’re insinuating.

He grimaces.

“Maybe…”

“Maybe?” You repeat. “What do you mean?”

He looks hesitant.

“Look, if I tell you something, do you promise it won’t leave this room?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

“Do you swear?”

“Roger,” you begin. “I’m a single mother. I’m stuck inside all day and my only friends are my son, the woman at the post office who I go to collect get my benefits from, and you. Who am I going to tell?”

“Right, of course.” He nods, eyes closed. One of his hands is out on the kitchen table to steady himself, the other on his hip. He hasn’t been able to stand still since he walked through the door.

“What is it? Just tell me.”

He takes a deep breath, and then he lets out a big puff of air.

“I’ve never slept with anyone before.”

★★★★★

You fight to keep your expression neutral as you process what the hell he’s just said.

A virgin?

Him?

How was it possible?

Roger was the best looking man you knew, and the kindest. And it was obvious he was popular, especially with women. It just didn’t add up.

“You’re not saying anything.” Roger says nervously, and you blink up at him.

“I guess I’m just..” You search for the right word. “Surprised.”

He closes his eyes and nods in agreement.

“Roger, how?!”

It’s the only thing you can say at this point.

He huffs a laugh.

“Well, if I’m honest, I was never very popular in school.”

“You weren’t?”

“They, um,” he lowers his voice, as if someone might be listening. “They called me a poofter. And, erm… other things.”

“Oh.”

To be honest, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to you, that people had called him that. It was horrible, all the same, but not surprising.

In fact, there had been a while when you’d even wondered the same. It might explain his gentle nature, you’d thought, if he was gay, and the lack of dating, and the fact that he’d never tried anything on you, even though you’d been close now for such a long while.

Not that you were cocky - not anything of the sort, but still. Most men would try it on with you, and even though you mostly wished they wouldn’t, you couldn’t say it hadn’t hurt when Roger didn’t try to go there at all.

“Was never really into rugby or anything like that.” He explains. “I played tennis, and I was alright at football, but I was never on the team, or anything. They all - the other boys – they- they’d laugh at me. In the showers?”

The ends of his sentences are going up like questions, and he looks like he’s having a hard time swallowing. You wonder whether this speech is something he plays over in his head often.

Whether it helps him justify it to himself.

“For being skinny. Y’know? And I was always a head shorter than everyone else ‘til I was about 17.”

“I’m sorry, Rog.”

“And then by the time I got to uni, I’d lost my confidence, I suppose.” He says it with a sad laugh that makes your heart sink.

“And it wasn’t the flirting that was the problem. I’m good at that-”

“I don’t doubt it.” You cut in without thinking.

He looks at you for a moment and your cheeks heat up, and then he’s looking at the floor again.

“And, well, I just never actually got around to any of… that.”

He makes an airy gesture with his hand.

“Why don’t you just get drunk and do it?” You offer. “No one would know any different.”

“Nearly did a few times.” He admits. “But when it came to the crux of it, I just couldn’t go through with it. Too nervous about stuffing it up.”

He gives a watery laugh.

“Oh, Roger. Why didn’t you tell anyone how you felt? Girls would be understanding.”

“You might be,” he reminds you. “But not everybody. I just felt like they’d all laugh at me. It’s completely acceptable for a girl to still be a virgin at 18, 19 20. But a guy? It’s just embarrassing!”

“Well that’s just a double standard-“ You cut in.

“Do you not think I know that?!” He says in frustration, and you butt in again, before things can get too heated.

“Anyway.”

He looks up at you expectantly.

“What are you going to do?”

You mean about Tracy, but he takes it more generally.

“I don’t know.” He says miserably. “I guess I’ll just have to stay one forever, now. I mean it’s just too mortifying at this point-”

“Oh it’s not that bad Roger for goodness sake, don’t wallow in it.” You scold him. “At least you aren’t me.”

He’s taken aback somewhat by that.

“What on earth d’you mean?”

“Well it’s not as if I get any action, is it?”

Bless him, he’s really looking at you as if he has no idea. And you’d be flattered, maybe, if the whole thing wasn’t so exasperating. You try to explain.

“At least you didn’t do it once or twice when you were sixteen, be unlucky enough to fall pregnant and then get saddled with a kid.”

You say it through your teeth, glancing around as if Robbie might hear you all the way from nursery school.

“And now that’s gonna be me for the next eighteen years, isn’t it?” You say it with a laugh that all of a sudden feels too close to a sob. “Until he grows up. Moves out. And then I’ll be what? Nearly forty? All before my life can even start.”

“Hey, come on-” Roger’s saying, sounding like he’s regretting starting this whole conversation, but you’re on a roll now.

“And it’s not like I’ll ever get married now, is it?”

You smile sadly, looking out of the window instead of at Roger, because you’re afraid that if you look at him directly, you might cry. For some reason he seems to be have that effect on you.

“Shot that horse in the face when I split up with his father. And no one’s gonna want me with him are they?”

You jerk your head towards Robbie’s empty bedroom.

“Oh, love..”

“Jus’ baggage, isn’t it?” You mumble, head down, staring into the dregs at the bottom of your cup. “No-one wants used goods.”

You can see Roger’s face out of the corner of your eye. He looks so pained. You’re too afraid to look up.

“Or at least, they don’t want me for the right reasons.” You sniff and continue, face set hard. Determined not to crack and cry. “Some of ‘em just think single mums are these slags they can do anything they want to.”

“Hey, enough.” Roger says stiltedly, voice strained. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” You insist. “That’s all they ever want me for. And all the ones who are any good are just put off by it. ”

You shrug and look out the window again, eyes fixed on the tower block opposite. There’s a woman in one of the windows, rocking her baby to sleep.

There’s nowhere else to look, so you just close your eyes.

“It doesn’t put me off.” Roger says in a small voice.

You hear him slowly coming over, feel the dip in the sofa cushion as he sits down next to you. He puts his hand on your knee.

“What d’you mean.” You say, forcing yourself to open your eyes and look up at him. His blue eyes blink earnestly back at you.

He takes a deep breath.

“All of that- it would never put me off from wanting to date you.”

Your mouth drops open.

“What?” You whisper. “Really?”

He nods, moving his face close to yours.

You can feel your heart in your mouth.

His hand is still resting on your knee. It’s burning a hole through your jeans.

“I would date you too, you know.”

He swallows.

“I guess we could both help each other out, then.” He says hoarsely.

His lips are inches from your own. You drag your eyes away from his to look down at them, pink and wet. Ready. You can feel his breath on your cheek.

All you would have to do is lean in, and his mouth would be on yours.

Just then, you hear a sudden knock at Roger’s front door out in the hallway, and you spring apart guiltily.

“That must be her.” You mutter, turning away from him.

Roger’s rubbing the back of his head.

“She’s early.”

You stand, taking your empty cup over to the sink. He stays where he is.

“You better go and answer her.”

“Wait-”

You shake your head, bending down to search through the cupboards as he slowly stands and comes up behind you.

You push the bag of flour into his chest. He stares down at it dumbly, barely remembering it was what he came in for.

Tracy knocks again.

“Good luck.” You swallow.

He nods faintly, looking so lost you have to turn back around again, pretending to be busy at the sink.

“Let me know how it goes.” You say over your shoulder as he leaves.

But you don’t want to know. Not even a little bit.

★★★★★

You manage to stop yourself from going round until after you’ve dropped Robbie off at nursery.

You’ve been dying to see Roger all morning, but you were worried that things might have gone well the night before, and Tracy might still be there. The prospect of walking in on something you didn’t want to see was enough to deter you until the afternoon. A stab of jealously twists at your gut just thinking about it.

“So,” you say apprehensively as you walk in. Roger looks around from where he’s standing at the stove. “Did you?”

He shakes his head.

You make a noise of dismay.

“What happened?”

“Bottled it.”

“Oh no!”

He nods, grinning bashfully.

“Well you’ll just have to do it next time.” You say, taking a seat at the kitchen table. You’re trying not to look too relieved.

“Not sure there’ll be one.” He says casually.

“Why?”

He scratches at the back of his head with the spatula. Something he only does when he’s nervous. His t shirt has ridden up at the bottom, exposing his soft tummy. You look away.

“What happened?” You press.

“Think she was starting to get the vibe I wasn’t interested.” He says quietly. “Just saw her as a friend.”

“Because you weren’t pestering her for sex on the third date?” You frown. “God what is she, a bloke?”

Roger laughs.

“Not… just because of that.” He says leadingly. Nervously?

What was up with him?

“Then what?”

He dumps his eggs onto a plate, scraping out the pan before he spins around to answer you. He takes a deep breath.

“Because I couldn’t stop talking about you.”

He says it quite earnestly, matter-of-factly, even, and you stare at him, studying his face for any sign of a joke. You find none.

You feel your entire body go warm.

“Let’s go on a date, then.” You whisper.

“Ok.”

He says it steadily. You’re fighting to stop your voice from shaking.

“When?”

“This Saturday.” He throws out, coming to sit down opposite you with his plate.

Scrambled eggs on toast, HP sauce splattered messily all over them. Just how he likes it.

“What would I do with Robbie?”

“Could you get your mum to look after him?”

You snort before he’s finished saying it.

“Unlikely, Rog.”

“Well could you get a babysitter?” He suggests, voice thick through a mouthful of eggs.

“That costs money, Roger.” You say patiently.

It’s hard for people who don’t have children to put themselves into your shoes. Thinking like that doesn’t come naturally to them. They aren’t used to having to automatically come up with the Reasons Why Not.

“We could just..” He waves his fork around. “Have one at home. Y’know, with him here.”

You scoff.

“Yeah. And what a great date that would be.”

“Well it would be.” Roger says. “Robbie’s my little mate.”

You smile at that.

“ ‘sides, it would be quiet without him around.”

“Yeah.” You say suddenly. “Yeah, it would, wouldn’t it?”

The smile’s growing on your face. He grins back.

“It’s settled, then.”

★★★★★

“Mummy’s going on a date, Robbie.” You say to him, playing with his toys at your feet as you get ready in front of the mirror.

“Date.” Robbie repeats back to you, smiling uncertainly. He doesn’t know what it means.

“Roger?” He says, looking up at you hopefully. You smile.

“Yes, that’s right. A date with Roger.” You say, and he gives you a toothy grin, placated. “What a clever boy you are.”

You’ve no idea what he’s cooking. He did pop round this morning to borrow an onion, but apart from that, you’ve no clue.

You’re nervous.

“ROGERRR!”

Robbie runs inside before you can say anything as usual, and it takes you a minute to notice Roger’s wearing a tie. Top three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned as always, but a tie all the same. And he’s combed his hair.

You’re touched by the effort he’s gone to.

“You look nice.” He comments, as he pulls the door back all the way to let you inside.

“Thanks. So do you.”

He’s got wine, and apple juice for Robbie. He’s made him fish fingers and potato smileys, and spaghetti Bolognese for the two of you. At your encouragement, he gives Robbie a little bit of spaghetti on his plastic plate (you’ve come with a bag full of his things so he doesn’t fuss about the disruption of his routine).

“I’m trying to get him on to Grown Up Food.” You explain in a whisper.

It doesn’t feel quite like a date. More like old friends having dinner after not seeing each other in a while. You saw Roger this morning, but it’s been a long time since you’d had time to sit down and eat something together.

Honestly, you don’t mind it. You were worried there was going to be this weird tension there, now that you’d put a label on the occasion. But it just feels natural. Like catching up.

At one point, Roger reaches across and takes your hand over the table, threading his fingers through yours, and even though it takes you by surprise, you don’t let go. It feels nice. You eat the rest of your meals with one hand.

Robbie gets tomato sauce all over himself, naturally, and you realise it’s probably almost time for his bath anyway.

“Roger bath me?” Robbie pleads after dinner, tugging at Roger’s sleeve and you hesitate, looking up at him.

“I don’t know..” You start

“Want me to give you a bath, bud?”

“Yeeahhhh!” Robbie yells.

Roger looks at you triumphantly.

“Can you do it?” You ask, doubtful.

“Course.” Roger says. “We’ll be fine, won’t we mate?”

“Yeah yeah yeah!”

You sigh and relent.

“Alright, I’ll do the dishes.”

“Mummy’s only next door in the kitchen, Robbie.” You’re saying to your excited toddler moments later, after having unpacked all his bath stuff and giving Roger the walk-through. He’s pulling at Roger’s hand, impatient to get on with the fun.

“Don’t get the water too hot.” You tell Roger soberly. “And don’t fill it up any deeper than his tummy. Oh, and don’t let the water out until after he gets out.”

He shoots you a quizzical look.

You lower your voice.

“He’s thinks he’ll get sucked down the plug hole.”

“Gotcha.” He says solemnly, and then gives you a little wink and a grin. Your stomach flutters.

“Come on then, little man. Bath time.”

You leave them to it and clean up the kitchen. For a bolognese, Roger’s managed to get through pots and pans in Biblical proportions. And he’s got sauce splattered all the way up the tiled walls. You sigh.

You can hear Robbie squealing and splashing, both of their laughter floating down the hallway, and you realise you might have drawn the short straw.

You’re sweating by the time you finally finish up, and walk through to the bathroom to check on them.

They're in such a bubble of their own that they don’t notice you at first, don’t hear you coming to stand in the open doorway, leaning against it with one hip. You fold your arms. You’re trying to keep a hold on the grin that’s threatening to spread all over your face.

Roger’s got Robbie sitting up on top of the sink, wrapped up in a fluffy towel, and he’s brushing his teeth for him.

“Open wide, Robbie, that’s it- no, don’t bite my finger - good boy. Nice and clean, hey?”

In that moment, you’re struck with the realisation that Roger’s become a man while you weren’t looking. That somewhere along the line, he’s changed from that haphazard, clueless uni student you’d known when he moved in, and turned into this mature, capable man. You’d like to believe that Robbie has something to do with it.

You think that maybe he’s more of a man than any guy you’ve gone out with before. Maybe even more of one that anyone you’ve ever known.

You want to make him feel like a man. Tonight.

You know it’s time.

You clear your throat a little and he turns, grinning brightly. You smile, throat suddenly thick with an emotion you can’t place. You walk over and lay a hand on his shoulder.

“My boys.” You murmur.

Slowly, deliberately, you lean up and press a kiss against his still-smiling lips. It’s quick and chaste - Robbie is there, after all - but it’s romantic as hell.

You pull back and look at him. His eyes are shining.

“Mummy kissed you!” Robbie shrieks before bursting into a fit of giggles, doubling over on the sink, and instead of ruining the moment it just makes it better. You’re laughing too, and so is Roger, picking him up and lifting up high.

“Yes she did!”

He kicks his little legs in the air as Roger spins him around the bathroom, positively squealing with childish laughter.

“And now I’m gonna kiss you TOO!” You shout, lunging for your son and pressing kisses all over his chubby face, screaming his head off all the while.

“Mummy no!”

“Yesyesyesyesyes!”

★★★★★

You all have to do the bedtime routine together.

Getting Robbie into his pajamas, watching his night time cartoons for an hour and then reading him his bed time story. You put him down to sleep in the spare room and watch a film in the meantime, hoping that by the time it’s finished he’ll be in the floppy stage, so you can just carry him back through to yours and put him down for the night and he won’t stir.

“It’s a sleepover.” You’d told him as you were through changing him into his pajamas, while Roger set up the telly ready for Magic Roundabout.

“Sleepover.” He’d repeated, bouncing excitedly.

He’d fallen asleep barely a page into his bedtime story.

You and Roger cuddle throughout the film, your face set on fire the entire time. It’s the first time you’ve been this close to him.

When it finishes, you carry Robbie next door, tucking his warm, sleeping body into bed and kissing him on the forehead. He doesn’t stir. You quickly check your hair in the hall mirror before creeping back out, letting yourself back in to Roger’s flat.

He grins lazily at you when you come in. He’s lying sprawled across the sofa with his feet hanging over the arm, still watching TV with a glass of wine in his hand. He looks loose and happy.

“Hi.”

He leans over to put his glass on the coffee table as you walk towards him, opening his arms for you to fall into him. His body is so warm.

“Is he fast asleep?” Roger mumbles into your hair.

“Out like a light.” You confirm.

He hums.

Finally alone together.

“What d’you wanna do now?” He asks.

It’s casual, but you know better. You can feel the excitement thrumming under his skin. It’s like a live current. It’s contagious.

“What do you wanna do?” You counter, playing his game.

“You know.” He murmurs, lips skimming the outer shell of your ear.

The electricity jolts through every part of your body, sending his words right down to your toes. You feel every single hair on your body stand on end.

You shiver.

“Hey, we haven’t had pudding!” He shouts suddenly, and you jump a little, pulling back to look at him in surprise.

He looks genuinely annoyed with himself for forgetting.

“Pudding?”

“Yeah!”

“You made pudding?”

“Yeah! Well, no. Not made. Bought.” He says, quickly rolling off you to cross the kitchen.

“It’s alright, Roger, you don’t have to-”

He’s yanking open the fridge door before you can stop him, hunting for the forgotten dessert and you roll your eyes and smile.

Once Roger had an idea, there was no slowing him down. He always did like everything just perfect.

“I got strawberries!” He shouts over his shoulder, waving the packet around.

Not your favourite.

You weren’t about to tell him that, though.

You stick him a weak thumbs up from the sofa as he ratches around for bowls and spoons.

“Thought it might be romantic.” He explains with a smug grin as he tips them into two bowls at the kitchen table.

“Tonight’s already been romantic.” You assure him. “Have you got chocolate?”

“No, sorry. Did you want some?”

“That’s ok.” You say, trying to hide your disappointment. You walk over to sit with him at the table.

“I might have pouring cream?” He offers.

“That’s ok, Rog-”

“No really, I’ll go and have a look.”

You let him go, staring down at your strawberries gloomily. If you could’ve had chocolate sauce, it might not have been so bad.

You ate strawberries all the time while you were pregnant with Robbie, always craving for them at the most bizarre times of night. Ever since he was born, however, you’d just never fancied them in the same way again.

“I’ve got squirty cream?” He half-yells from inside the fridge, and your eyes light up.

“Aw yeah, wicked!”

He laughs.

“Great.”

“D’you want some strawberries to go with that cream?” Roger teases when you spray half the bottle into your bowl.

"Shut up, I like it.”

You end up getting a lot of it all over your face, and Roger takes great pleasure in watching you trying to wipe it off.

“Oh for god’s sake, get here.” He says, after you wipe at your cheek in vain for the fifth time. “You’re not even getting anywhere near it.”

He licks his thumb and wipes at your cheek, scooping up all the whipped cream from your chops. Without thinking, your hand shoots out to grab his own, and you lick all of it off his thumb, relishing the taste. You fucking love whipped cream.

Your eyes snap open when Roger makes a strangled noise of pleasure, and you realise you’ve inadvertently turned him on.

You smirk, swirling your tongue around the tip of his thumb, making sure you get every last drop. He throws his head back and groans.

“Oh, come on.”

You laugh and pop your mouth off him, looking at him in faux-innocence.

“What? I was just making sure I got it all.”

He digs his palms into his eye sockets, his answering grin was tortured.

“How much longer are we gonna drag this out for?”

You look at him in disbelief.

“You were the one that suggested dessert!” You argue.

“Yes, and I’m now very much regretting that decision.”

His hands are still over his eyes, so he doesn’t see the lightbulb go on in your head, and the wicked grin that follows it onto your face.

“I’ve got an idea.” You say, voice low. He looks up at you.

“What now?”

“How about we bring dessert into the bedroom?”

★★★★★

“Sorry I haven’t tidied up in here.” He mumbles as he trails in after you, surveying the mess before you. “Didn’t exactly think it would get to this.”

“This is lovely, Rog.” You say as you sit down on the bed, thumbing at the blanket with a wistful smile playing on your face. It’s a patchwork quilt, warm and worn, thrown haphazardly over the bed. The grey sheets are all peeled back and rumpled, and there are pillows strewn about all over the place.

“My mum made it for me.” He mumbles again, looking embarrassed. You smile, rubbing your finger along all of the different textures.

You realise what he’s said too late.

“Roger..” You say, whipping around to face him, standing above you beside the bed with the cream bottle still in his hands. “You do want to do this, don’t you?”

His eyes fly open wide.

“Yes!” He almost shouts, and you have to stifle a giggle. “Shit, sorry. Yes. I just, I only meant - I didn’t expect you to let me- y’know - on the first.. date.”

You shift slightly on the sinky mattress.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Oh, no no!” He backtracks, putting the food down on the bedside table and plopping down next to you. “No, god. I don’t mean it like that. ”

He stares earnestly into your eyes.

“Are you nervous?” You whisper, glancing sideways up at him.

“No.” He says steadily. “Not with you.”

“Good.”

“Are you?”

“A little.” You admit.

But it’s a good kind of nervous. The kind you haven’t had in a very long time.

You love him.

Maybe not in that way, not quite yet, at least, but as a friend.

And maybe soon as more.

You love him.

And so you close your eyes, lean in, and kiss him.

★★★★★

“That’s cold!”

Roger squawks as you squirt a squiggle of cream down the middle of his bare chest. You cackle, running a finger through your mess before bringing it to your lips to taste.

“Mmmm.” You exaggerate, closing your eyes in mock-rapture as you suck the cheap foam from your fingertip.

“Where else are you gonna put it?” Roger asks eagerly and you grin.

“Patience.”

You have to hold his hips down to the bed to stop him wriggling as you suck and lick the sweet cream from his nipples, his chest, his belly-button. He’s moaning and giggling with every swipe of your tongue, and there’s a dark patch growing in size on the front of his stripey underwear. He’s rock hard, straining at the waist-band, and you can see his bright pink tip poking out of the top.

You decide the fun’s not over yet.

“My turn!” You declare, pushing him so that he rolls off to the side, flopping down on your belly in his place. “Now you’ve gotta do it to me.”

You flip onto your back and close your eyes, grinning while you wait for him to plan his attack.

“Don’t get it in my pubes.” You remind him. “And don’t put it anywhere near my vagina.”

Roger’s the first person you’ve been totally naked with, lights on and all, since Robbie was born.

You love your marks and scars - they remind you of Robbie - but it had been hard to accept that your body was changed permanently, and at such a young age, too. For the first year or so, you could hardly even be naked around yourself.

With Roger, everything was different. His face when you’d first taken your top off, so full of this quiet awe - it was enough to make everything you’d been worried about fade into background noise.

You jump when he spurts the cream onto your lips.

You resist the urge to poke your tongue out and clean it off, because the next thing you know he’s climbing over you and kissing you deeply, the sweet taste filling both of your mouths.

Neither of you can stop giggling, smiling against each other’s lips, teeth clashing together and breath merging into one.

After he’s licked you clean (and sucked a strawberry out of your belly button), he decides he wants to pay you lip service in another way.

So far, he’s taken all the foreplay in his stride with a quiet self-assurance, but now you’re getting towards the real thing, he’s suddenly nervous.

He stops between your legs and looks up at you, a little unsure of what to do next.

He’s lying on his belly, legs bent and crossed behind him at the ankle, in nothing but his y-fronts and a pair of purple socks.

You feel him mumbling your name into the inside of your bare thigh, following it up with a sweet kiss against your skin.

“You okay?” You wonder, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him.

“I’m not sure what to do.” He admits, burying his face into your leg and blowing out a big huff of air. It tickles.

You try not to giggle at him, arms folded under himself and his face planted into your thigh.

“Just do what feels natural.” You tell him, stroking his blonde head and he groans, frustrated. “You’ve been doing good so far.”

“What if I do rubbish?” He argues. You laugh at that.

“Half of you are rubbish at it anyway.”

“That’s not very encouraging-”

“Look, all I’m saying is that practise doesn’t always make perfect.” You remind him gently. “You’re a good kisser, you’ll be good at this as well.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Just do what feels right, you’ll pick it up in no time.”

He looks up at you then, one cheek still resting on your leg. His breathe tickles against your skin.

You get an idea.

“Come up here.” You say. He looks at you confused, but you haul him up by the arm nevertheless, until your faces are level.

“Give me your hand.”

He hands it over, mystified.

You take the palm of his hand and bring it to your lips, kissing him there once first, gently, to make him smile.

“Do it like this.”

You say, and then you move your lips and tongue against the palm of his hand, simulating oral sex, in just the rhythm and pattern that you like it.

“Sthee?” You muffle into his hand. “Juth’st like tha’ ”

You look up at him to check if he’s taking it in. His cheeks are turning a dark shade of red.

He nods stiffly and starts moving down your body.

“Got it.”

“The clit is-”

“I know where it is.” He snaps, and you nod, leaning back against the pillow to let him get on with it.

He does it just like you showed him.

You knew he’d be a fast learner, but you didn’t expect him to pick it up quite so quickly, and quite so well.

He’s so eager to taste you, pushing your legs open wider, pulling you onto his mouth so you’re flush up against his nose and lips. He groans against your clit when you push and grind against him, and the vibrations send shockwaves straight through you.

“That’s so good, Rog.” You’re telling him, stroking his hair as he groans into you. “Just like that.”

“Yeah?” He breathes, taking a break to turn his head to the side and suck a dark bruise onto your thigh. “Am I doin’ good?”

“So good.” You repeat, eyes squeezed shut and your nails digging into his shoulders like you’re trying to kill him.

You let him carry on until he makes you come, shaking and grinding against his face, pulling him closer by the back of his head. He moans as you tug at his locks, cleaning you up enthusiastically.

His tongue soon becomes too much against your sensitive heat. You push him away with your foot, and he props himself up on his elbow, grinning.

“How was that?” He asks, turning his head to wipe his wet chin off on his shoulder.

“Come ‘ere.” You murmur in answer, hauling him up towards you and pulling him down for a deep kiss.

“That good, ey?” He mumbles against your lips, and you shut him up by kissing him harder.

“Your turn.” You’re saying next, anxious to move onto the next thing as you push him off and move to get on top of him.

His breathe hitches as you push him down against the pillows, and you stop just before you move to slip off his boxers.

“Has someone done this to you before?” You wonder.

His eyes don’t move from your face. His chest is rising and falling rapidly under you as you trace a finger along the waist-band of his underwear. You feel his cock twitch.

“No.” He says breathily.

“Get ready, then.” You say, moving to finally pull his underwear off but then his hand shoots out and stops you.

He’s gripping your wrist tight, face anxious.

“Are you okay?”

“I won’t-” He starts, glancing up to the ceiling as if he’s having to will himself to say it, “I won’t.. last long, if you do that. At all.”

You breathe a laugh.

“That’s the point, Rog.” You say. “If you finish now, you’ll be able to last longer when we fuck.”

“Oh.” Is all he says, laughing at himself self-consciously.

You lean up and kiss him again, trying to reassure him. He’s still grabbing onto your hand tight.

“Ready?” You ask, thumbs hooked inside his waist-band.

His skin is fever-hot.

“Yeah.”

He’s right. He doesn’t last long.

Not that you were expecting him to, but still. It’s quite satisfying how quickly he’s coming uncontrollably into your mouth, hips stuttering and unable to stop himself from thrusting all the way down your throat.

“Oh god, oh god, oh fuck.” He’s whispering like a prayer, body twisting on the mattress below you as you take all of him, nose pressing into his belly. He’s got a fistful of your hair, and in the last moments, it’s like he doesn’t know whether to push you off or pull you closer.

It tastes hot, and slightly sweet, and when you crawl back up to let him taste himself on your tongue he can’t help but moan all over again.

He’s a bit like a zombie after that.

You decide to just leave him to recover for a while, realising it’s about time someone went to check on Robbie. You pull Roger’s dressing gown off the back of the door and slip it on, turning around in the doorway to tell him you’ll be back in a minute.

He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, a goofy grin plastered all over his face.

“Won’t be long.” You whisper.

You wonder whether the words even register at all.

“Is he..?” Roger wonders when you come back in. He looks like he’s come back to life a little, now sat up on his elbows.

“Flat out.” You grin, coming to sit back down on the bed.

You don’t bother taking the robe off, suddenly a little chilly after all of the sweat has cooled.

“So do you want to fuck then, or..?” You wonder, trailing a finger around one of his nipples in a circle.

He sits up fully and looks at you at bit sheepishly, scratching his head.

“Er, actually...” He trails off, and you look at him encouragingly, waiting for him to finish. “Would it be ok if we, er, left it? For tonight?”

You blink at him.

“Of course!”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be silly!” You say, reaching over to pull him into a one armed hug. He leans his head on your shoulder.

“It was really awesome, though.” He mumbles into your collar bone, pressing a wet kiss where his dark blue robe had slipped down. “Loved it.”

“Me too.” You say appreciatively, resting your cheek - sore from all the smiling - against the top of his head. His hair smells like coconut shampoo.

“M’really glad it was with you.”

He yawns, suddenly knackered, and you begin to feel the same.

He moves off you and to the edge of the bed, and starts pulling his underwear back on.

“And plus,” he adds, looking at you over his shoulder. “There’s always tomorrow.”

You grin back at him.

“You’d do it again?”

“Are you joking?” He snorts, as if you’ve asked him the most stupid question he’s ever heard. “Any time you like, darling.”

★★★★★

Robbie can’t be left on his own overnight, so you have to collect up all of your things and traipse back through into your flat, bare feet cold on the wooden hallway floor.

Roger comes with you, not wanting to send you off to sleep alone after all of that. You do a final check on Robbie, before slipping into bed next to him, huddling into him immediately for warmth. It get’s cold in your little flat at night time, and the heating was something both of you could only afford to put on in the very depths of winter. Roger wraps his arms around you.

“So was this more of a one time thing, then?” He whispers into the dark just before he falls asleep. “Or were you looking to fill a more... permanent position?”

His voice is light and silly, but the moment’s a somber one. You can tell he’s feeling nervous.

“I’d wake up to you every day if I could.” You say seriously.

He kisses you then, gentle and deep - no lust in it but full of passion, and it makes your toes curl.

“Tomorrow’s a start, then.”

You stare up at the ceiling, listening to his rhythmic breathing and thinking about the forgotten strawberries, left out to go over-ripe on the bedside table. You can’t help but lament all the lost nights you could’ve been spending curled up in bed at Roger’s side.

You wonder whether all of this shouldn’t have happened a long time ago.

Or maybe it had happened at exactly the right time.

★★★★★

@ixchel-9275 @oogachuggaoogaoogachugga

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literary-masochism · 4 years

Text

Midnight Sun: Chapter 2 - Bella is an Eldritch Abomination

So... I managed to finish the first chapter with only a day break in the middle of it instead of the year or so break I had to take with Twilight. I was hoping that, since this chapter starts off in a completely original place that it'll be... I don't know... less painful? Easier?

That was a lot to hope for, wasn't it?

Instead, it took a bit over two weeks to get through this chapter. It'd take me an hour to get through a page because of all the bad.

But hey! I got it done and now I can enjoy a nice slice of red velvet cake.

Chapter Two: Open Book

Edward, unable to control his 'monster', has fled to Alaska where he can mope while blending into the snowy scenery like the lump of ice he is. He's slumped down in a snow bank, describing it as 'velvet under his skin'. Not sure how because he's definitely heavy enough to crush snow into slush but I guess Meyerpires are Tolkien Elves as well.

Also, Meyerpires see stars as if they were pained by Van Gogh

The sky above me was clear, brilliant with stars, glowing blue in some places, yellow in others. The stars created majestic, swirling shapes against the black backdrop of the empty universe—an awesome sight. Exquisitely beautiful. Or rather, it should have been exquisite. Would have been, if I’d been able to really see it.

But, of course, Edward has to ruin it by doing this:

When I stared up at the jeweled sky, it was as if there were an obstruction between my eyes and its beauty. The obstruction was a face, just an unremarkable human face, but I couldn’t quite seem to banish it from my mind.

Another vampire by the name of Tanya (further proof that Meyer subconsciously hates someone (me) that she's never met – Tanya's my given name) is sneaking/not sneaking up on Edward's mope party and... there's a line I'm a bit confused by...

I think Edward's calling Tanya 'exquisite'. I guess Edward just learned that word from his word-a-day calendar because he's used it 3 times already and it's been a bit more than half a page.

She mentally calls out 'Cannonball' and does a flying jump into the snowbank and, in an astounding turn of events, she doesn't land lightly on top of the loose snow, leaving no trace of her dive but instead actually sends up a spray of snow over Edward because fuck that guy.

Sorry, not snow but 'feathery ice crystals'.

Edward sighs and accepts his fate of being mildly snowed upon as the face of the Void haunts his every thought. Or something.

Tanya, concerned that Edward was becoming one with winter and would soon be lost to them all, digs him out of the snow and apologizes, saying 'it was a joke'.

He assures her it was funny (it wasn't) then continues to cry into his metaphorical pint of ice cream.

They have a short conversation about how Tanya thinks she's annoying Edward by coming onto him nonstop and Edward admits to being uncomfortable by it. Tanya isn't used to rejection and mentally gives Edward a slideshow of all the sex she's had over the years.

Gross. And also sexual harassment.

Edward mopes about how much of a coward he is and how, no matter where he goes, he'll just be running away from Forks. Tanya tells him to grow a pair and just go back to Folks (not those exact words) and tries to steal a liplocky kiss which Edward dodges.

With her plan to deflower Edward thoroughly ruined, she pouts with a 'you're welcome, I guess' and leaves – hopefully to never bother us again.

She was on her feet in one nimble move, and then she was running away, ghosting across the snow so quickly that her feet had no time to sink in. She left no prints behind her.

Fucking Elves...

Anyway, Edward curls up in a fetal position to stare in the general direction of the stars that he can't see because the Void takes up all his vision.

He finally gets off his ass and Legolases his way back to the car and every Tolkien fan weeps.

I just want to point out that Tolkien elves leave no footprint because they are considered otherworldly and are three quarters literal spirits.

Meyer considers her vampires to be 'of science' (and I'm assuming Meyer means the kind of science that says the earth is flat and vaccines make you autistic). Now, I admit I'm not the best at math or science but...

Bull. Shit.

The implication here is that the vampires are going so fast over the snow that their feet don't have time to sink into the snow and leave a mark. But the thing is: it's not an issue of speed, it's an issue of weight. Running is basically pushing your weight forward and to do that your feet push down. The more you weigh, the deeper your feet sink in.

This is powdery snow. A too harsh sneeze is going to leave a mark.

This is not the first time Meyer has a problem with her overpowered vampires and them breaking the very basics of physics.

No, Meyer, Edward can't run into the bathroom, fill up a glass with water, and run back to Bella's room in a blink of an eye. Yes, Edward can be that fast... the sink isn't.

Sure, Edward can hear any other human on the road and adjust his driving that way... can he hear the deer that might be crossing in front? And even if his reflexes are the fastest in the west... a car has momentum and inertia that has nothing to do with vampire speed/reflexes/whatever other excuse.

If I was doing segments or counters or something, this would be the first in “Meyer doesn't understand basic science'.

Please, let me know if I'm wrong about this. I'd love a science lesson on things like this...

With that out of the way, I checked the leaked PDF for this part and... some of the trash was taken out. That's something at least.

Anyway, back in Forks...

The Cullens walk into the school cafeteria (calling it 'run-down' which is the only time I can recall it being called such) like a bomb is about to explode at any moment. Alice is so focused on watching the future that Jasper has to lead her around by the arm. Emmett is walking around like a bodyguard and Rose is already done with this bullshit.

Way to not draw attention to yourselves.

We also get told that they actually had a very fun morning, having a snowball fight (aka pelting Edward with snow until that got boring) and how it's such a drastic change from how tense everything is now.

Meyer, you know what would have really set off that difference? IF YOU ACTUALLY WROTE THAT INSTEAD OF TELLING US IT HAPPENED.

I can even tell you how to do you could have done that while adding to the tension. You could have had Edward waiting by the car since five in the morning after having Esme and Carlisle give him a pep talk all night and hearing Emmett and Jasper plotting ways to break the tension. You can have him getting annoyed by having to avoid the snowballs before finally getting into the car to put a stop to it. You can have Esme thinking positive thoughts at him and giving him a thumbs-up while they drive away.

You could have had character, relationship, and world building but... no. No, instead we get straight to the whining, no more aware of just what is at stake than we were before.

This writing fucking sucks.

Edward listens to all the thoughts around him. He's absolutely certain Bella told everyone how he traumatized her with his mean looks so surely everyone would be gossiping about them!

Have you see how mean he looked at Bella a week ago?! Surely they're not human if one of them can give a random girl such a mean look!

You see how stupid that is, Meyer?

A normal girl would have asked around, compared her experience to others’, looked for common ground that would explain my behavior so she didn’t feel singled out. Humans were constantly desperate to feel normal, to fit in. To blend in with everyone else around them, like a featureless flock of sheep. The need was particularly strong during the insecure adolescent years. This girl would be no exception to that rule.

bEcAuSe BeLlA iSn'T lIkE oThEr GiRlS.

Also, fuck you.

Edward is amazed by how shy Bella must be to not have told anyone that he gave her a nasty look! He wonders if she told her father but decides she must be closer to her mother but he'll have to read Charlie's thoughts just to be sure.

Edward, of course, doesn't know Bella holds her father in contempt and seems to utterly loath him until the plot requires otherwise.

As he's listening to the entire student body, he informs us that, a week ago when he went to Carlisle to get his car, they had a talk about how vampire powers always got stronger and never went away which was what Edward was worried about.

WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE TO SEE THAT TOO!

They're all amazed that Bella didn't spill the beans about how mean they can look at people. As Bella's coming in, they all try to act normal.

So Emmett throws a snowball he had hidden in his ice-cold hand and threw it at Alice who, seeing it coming, flicked it away so that it flew across the very large room and hit a brick wall... cracking said wall.

You maybe be wondering why the snowball didn't break as soon as it hit her fingers... Shut up, that's how!

“Very human, Emmett,” Rosalie said scathingly. “Why don’t you punch through the wall while you’re at it?”

“It would look more impressive if you did it, gorgeous.”

Okay, I can forgive it for this line.

Edward checks to see if their 'acting' worked. Bella is standing in the lunchline – not moving at all to the point where people have to check to make sure she didn't have a stroke or something. Bella claims she feels sick and Edward gets a rage boner over Mike getting worried for her.

Also: Translucent skin.

Edward realizes he was showing human emotion by worrying about Bella so much that he calls himself an idiot for acting like the 'dimwitted' Mike Newton and vows to stop worrying about stupid things aka Bella.

We know how that goes.

And, in case you forgot/didn't know that Emmett killed a little old lady...

“Ease up, Edward,” Emmett said. “Honestly. So you kill one human. That’s hardly the end of the world.”

“You would know,” I murmured.

Emmett laughed. “You’ve got to learn to get over things. Like I do. Eternity is a long time to wallow in guilt.”

Also, does Emmett not know that Edward went on a murder spree? Emmett, we know, killed two people, maybe a few more... Edward killed, at least, a several dozen.

Edward don't feel guilty about shit.

To help make them look normal, Alice throws ice in Emmett's face so he shakes his head, releasing a 'deluge' of melted snow everywhere. Apparently, Emmett's head can hold a lake's worth of water or Meyer doesn't understand what 'deluge' actually means.

Also, the Cullens are notorious for being closed off, strange, and weird. From the first chapter, they sit in silence, not talking to each other, not even looking at each other. Wouldn't this sudden play fight be so out of character for them that it would draw the entire of... everyone in the room? This would be like if your stern, religious grandmother decided to throw a rave.

Somehow, no one else seems to notice the extremely out of characterness of the Cullens but Edward does catch Bella looking at them again. Edward tries to listen to her thoughts because maybe this time it'll work.

Guess what? She's still a void.

What follows is Meyer trying really hard to make Jessica unlikable to retroactively make Bella's assholery towards her in the previous books seem justified.

Edward catches on to Bella trying to ignore him. When lunch is over, the Cullen's stay at their table, waiting on him to decide what he's going to do and...

Would I go to class, sit beside the girl, where I could smell the absurdly potent scent of her blood and feel the warmth of her pulse in the air on my skin?

'feel the warmth of her pulse in the air on my skin'

I know what Meyer is trying to say but... there are a LOT better ways of saying it.

The whole Cullen family discussed what Edward's choices were and the consequences would mean... also pointing out that they are all, more or less, monsters who don't give a flying fuck about humans in any meaningful way. If ants could give a fuck, the Cullens would give less of a fuck than an ant's fuck. That's how little fucks they give in regards to humans.

Carlisle disapproves but isn't going to stop Edward if decides to get to chomping.

Jasper disapprove too but more in a 'Why does Edward get to kill people but not me?' kind of way.

Rosalie wonders how Edward fucking up is going to ruin her day.

Alice is useless (as always)

Esme thinks Edward 'can do no wrong' so I guess she'll probably be very proud and impressed by how good of a murder he is. I mean, he did murder her abusive ex-husband...

And Emmett was just remembering all the murdering he did and how fun that was and decided to poke the bear that is Jasper into remembering how tasty humans are.

So, yeah, fuck all these guys.

I don't think I touched on this previously but I know pointing out the monstrous things the Cullens do seems counter-productive and hypocritical. Vampires are monsters and I'm angry they act like monsters? No. I'm angry because they claim they're not monsters and then wave off whatever evil they do as inconsequential because of their lifestyle.

A vampire wants to be good? Great, I want to see that conflict in their nature. I want to see them fight against their nature and see the guilt from their past. I want to see the pain and struggle so that we they fail or succeed it has a real, emotional payoff. I love those stories.

The Cullens... don't have that. There's lip service towards it but it's only skin-deep. None of them really seem to care about human lives (Bella being the exception) and it shows. They may act nice enough (and barely even that) but that doesn't make them good.

Their search for redemption/a normal life/whatever else they claim to want is like a smug billionaire talking about how they had to settle for the solid gold napkin rings because a diamond encrusted one clashed too much with their aesthetic but that's the price one has to pay I guess. Life truly is suffering.

Their sincerity rings false and it shows.

Back to this shit show and, in a genuinely surprising turn of events, Jasper 'Murder-boner' Hale tells Edward to take it slow, maybe even go home. Yes, Jasper is a bit smug that Perfect Edward was struggling but it's still better advice than any of these other murderers have suggested.

But, of course, Edward's pride is more important than these insignificant humans so he stays.

Edward decides to go, of course he does, but he also remembers how he promised himself that he wouldn't get 'unduly interested' in Bella because she's the void. He seems to have forgotten that, in the same breath, he vowed to figure out what she was thinking no matter what.

(But we already know everyone in this book has a selective memory when it comes to moving the plot along.)

He wonders if staring into the void will somehow help him figure out what she's thinking.

He hurries his butt to class, making sure we know what each individual 'sibling' feels about this. He gets to class before it starts and sees Bella doodling on her folder. He thinks that this will be a peek into Bella's thoughts...

… and he's disappointed that it's just circles within circles (though now I wonder if a picture of the drawings from The Ring might not have been better). He does the thing I hate where Meyer sucker punches us with a hint concerning Bella's actions from the first book: he concludes that she must to be thinking of something other than what she's actually doodling.

As he sits down, he notices her 'deer in headlights, if I don't move the car can't see me' approach to being near him and, in a moment of true human emotion, he promises himself he'll try and leave a better impression this time so she's not so scare of him.

Just kidding, he's going to leave a good impression to gaslight the fuck out of her into thinking she just imagined him giving her a mean look.

He gives her his most polite smile, careful not to show his teeth. I don't know why because Meyerpires don't have fangs.

Bella stares at him in wide-eyed confusion which is, apparently, the exact expression he's been daydreaming about for the last week.

...okay? Weirdo.

He stares into her eyes, telling us all the shades of brown they are (milk chocolate but clearer like tea because I guess Meyer didn't realize tea can be pretty dark) and about the flecks of color in them that isn't brown (basically bright green and yellow only described with more purple prose) and never realizing that means her eyes are hazel which I find hilarious after the big deal they made about losing Bella's dark brown eyes due to the food meter vampire eyes they have.

To Edweirdo's surprise, he finds he can't hate her anymore.

I approve because at least we get to see this tiny bit of actual falling in love here that was, as far as I'm concerned, completely and utterly absent in the rest of the series. Seriously, it was getting awkward with them getting married and her pushing out a kid and I'm still waiting for any hint that they're actually in love.

It's a nice change of pace.

Edward stares her into submission and claims he didn't have a chance to introduce himself and, being the gentleman he is, he reminds her of her own name, in case she forgot.

Bella, having forgotten that new students usually get introduced to the class and that, after a week of being at school, most people would know her preferred calling... asks how the person sitting next to her knows her nickname.

I must have truly terrified her, and this made me feel guilty. I laughed gently—it was a sound that I knew made humans more at ease.

“Oh, I think everyone knows your name.” Surely, she must have realized that she’d become the center of attention in this monotonous place. “The whole town’s been waiting for you to arrive.”

The thing is: she does know she's the center of attention because she bitched about it nonstop in the first book! Which makes the 'Isabella/Bella' thing even more stupid.

She frowned as if this information was unpleasant. I supposed, being shy as she appeared to be, attention would seem like a bad thing to her. Most humans felt the opposite. Though they didn’t want to stand out from the herd, at the same time they craved a spotlight for their individual uniformity.

Fuck off! Just fuck off!

I had to take a break after that stupid just so I could deal with the stupidity of the rest of the page.

I know it's a stupid thing to get hung up on but Meyer plays Edward knowing Bella's name as the first hint that he can read minds and... it's really not a good example. Especially with how Edward reacts to it:

I’d just realized what her questions meant: I had slipped up—made an error. If I hadn’t been eavesdropping on all the others that first day, then I would have addressed her initially by her full name. She’d noticed the difference.

I felt a pang of unease. It was very quick of her to pick up on my slip. Quite astute, especially for someone who was supposed to be terrified by my proximity.

Yes, you heard it all the time that first day and probably the first day back since that's her preferred name. Everyone calls her that, especially by now. It's not a hard thing to pick up on. Edward acts as though she's going to call him out on his vampirism any moment now. It's not only stupid but it's a bad plot device to try and convince us how astute Bella is when, really, it's just Edward being paranoid because despite being a vampire around humans since 1920, he has no idea how to act around them and has never made the effort.

To make matters worse, his coping mechanism around Bella is to not breath... and he needs to do that now if he wants to keep talking to her. Because not talking to her would be 'incomprehensible rude'. Because that's what matters here: politeness.

Edward needs a cheekily little breath and...

Ahh!

It was intensely painful, like swallowing burning coals.

Meyer... when people go 'Ahh!' after taking a breath, or having a drink, or anything refreshing really, it's because they're expressing relief... not because they're in sudden pain.

We get the same awkward (in a good way because teenagers are supposed to be awkward) 'Ladies first' exchange concerning the microscope.

Bella just stares at him blankly...

… and having seen the darkness that surrounds and inhabits every living thing in the universe, he says he can start if she likes and to please not consume his consciousness to feed her insatiable appetite.

I added the last part but I feel it was implied.

She insists she goes first and, fearing for his soul/consciousness/whatever, he agrees. She says it's prophase. He asks to check it and:

Instinctively—stupidly, as if I were one of her kind—

Gotta make sure we know he thinks humans are stupid. You know, in case you forgot.

Their hands briefly touch and they're zapped with the Static Shock of Twu Wuv though Meyer plays it off as Bella's skin feeling so hot against Edward's cold, disgusting, yucky, cootie-ridden hand. He wonders what she must think after touching his horrible, icy skin and concludes she must be repulsed by him.

Or, you know, think you were having a snowball fight with your siblings during lunch. Or that you have poor circulation. Or that it's fucking Forks and everything is cold.

Also, Meyerpires's relation to temperature doesn't make sense unless they are a literal heatsink. Their temperature don't settle into that of the area around them, like other dead things/rock, but just absorbs heat nonstop. But that's a complaint we'll see again later.

Terrified that if he glanced into the void once again his mind would become consumed with madness, he does the next slide in their assignment. She asks to check his answer since turnabout is fairplay. Except Edward has, apparently, never heard of this and is shocked that this lowly hooman/eldritch being might think he's wrong!

But he sees the hopeful look on her skinless face and can't help but smile because Mood Whiplash is something else Meyer doesn't get. Bella is disappointed to find Edward is right but decides to spare his sanity in order to fuck with mine:

I dropped the next slide into her palm, keeping my skin far from hers this time. Sitting beside her was like sitting next to a heat lamp. I could feel myself warming slightly to the higher temperature.

THAT IS NOT HOW... HE CAN'T JUST GET HEAT FROM... AMBIENT TEMPERATURE...

They finish the assignment first because of fucking course they did and then we get this:

Wish he’d stayed wherever he went, Mike thought, eyeing me sulfurously.

Mike thought, eyeing me sulfurously.

eyeing me sulfurously.

sulfurously.

THAT IS NOT A PROPER WORD. EVEN IF IT WAS, THAT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE.

WAS MIKE EYEING YOU SO HARD YELLOWISH VAPOR THAT SMELLS OF ROTTING EGGS WAS COMING OUT? DID HIS EYES TURN YELLOW INSTEAD OF YOURS?!

BECAUSE THAT IS EVERY MEANING FOR SULFUROUS, MEYER JUST ADDED 'LY' TO THE END BECAUSE SHE HATES ME AND EVERYONE ELSE.

Okay, I'm calm now.

Edward is surprised about how much Mike seems to hate him. Way to go on that whole 'Keep track of everyone's thoughts in case the townsfolk have a sudden interest in pitchforks and torches' thing.

He's also surprised to find the feeling is mutual. I'm surprised because Edward already hates everyone and everything so why is this new information?

Edward admits he understands Mike's attraction, that Bella is actually kinda pretty for a human...

Fuck you.

...but in an 'unusual' way.

Better than being beautiful, her face was… unexpected. Not quite symmetrical—her narrow chin out of balance with her wide cheekbones

Aka: a heart shaped face which is actually a very common face shape and classically attractive.

extreme in the coloring—the contrast of her light skin and dark hair

Also a very feature that we see over and over again in conventionally attractive actors/models/what have you.

and then there were the eyes, too big for her face, brimming over with silent secrets.…

Eyes that were suddenly boring into mine.

Bella decides to spare his consciousness but only so she could send it out of his body, trapping him in the nothingness between atoms to witness the everlasting and all encompassing void and know nothing else for all eternity.

Nah, she was just wondering why his eyes are all sulfurously yellow and weird looking.

Edward:

We get a long paragraph of Edward explaining that yes, his eyes are different because he ate all the Bambis and Bambis's Moms in the forest though he used more words than that.

He then calls himself an idiot for not realizing why Bella was asking about contacts.

He tells us that in the two years of being in that school that no one every looked at them close enough to notice their eye colors – despite them being extremely beautiful and attractive – because once they get a glimpse of their beauty, they're disgusted by them and have to look away because humans are just so stupid, you know?

Why did it have to be this girl who would see too much?

In reality, she ain't seen shit. Though, with Meyer goggles firmly in place...

The teacher comes to investigate why these two monsters aren't working, being the creep who, according to Meyer, fantasized about Bella, his underaged student, when she first moved to Forks, decides wemins can't science and assumes Edward did all the work.

Upon learning that Bella answered most of them, the teacher reevaluates his life and how, maybe, the female population aren't as dumb as he thought and thus deserve to be more than masturbation fodder for him.

Or Bella can just admit she already did this assignment in her much better, city-based school she went to before, thus helping to undermine her contribution as well as her intelligence.

Neither make Meyer look particularly good because, even if she didn't write the teacher lusting after his students into the text, she did reveal it elsewhere and thus can be argued to be canon.

Also: Banner calls Bella 'Isabella' but he doesn't have the excuse of fleeing the country for a week. Does he never do roll call? Has she never corrected him in that week? Has he completely missed her signing her work with 'Bella'?

Truly, the most mysterious thing that has happened so far.

Anyway, Banner is shocked that Bella's already did the assignment because he pulled it from a senior class...

So... did he not actually tell them what to look for? No chapter to read, no diagrams drawn/projected on the board? He just... pulled out some slides, told them words they might not have even covered, then set them to it?

What a fucking asshole.

Also, googling it I can find lessons on mitosis going back to Middle School.

At this rate the art teacher will be shocked that Bella can draw a triangle.

Also:

She was advanced, then, intelligent for a human. This did not surprise me.

Fuck you.

Banner walks off, muttering to himself about kids these days, not instinctively knowing science because he sure as fuck isn't going to teach it to them.

Edward is ashamed of his 'slips' in the past thirty minutes and is still completely sure that Bella is not only terrified of him but suspects something. He's determined to leave a good impression on her because... gaslighting.

Edward tries some small talk he heard the hoomans around them doing (because after 17 years of BEING human and several decades of pretending to be human, he still has no idea how to human).

He brings up the snow melting and how that sucks, huh?

She stares into his mind and rips every memory, thought, hope, and dream he's ever had and sends the shreds into the void where they belong.

Her reaction of 'Not really' sends him for a loop. Thankfully, he's a vampire which makes him so much smarter than everyone else in existence and he puts together that she's probably from a much warmer place (because her albino skin still seems somehow tanned to him) and thus must hate all this cold weather!

He announces his revelation: “You don't like the cold.”

She agrees and tacks on that she doesn't like the wet either.

Edward's reaction is fucking hilarious:

“Forks must be a difficult place for you to live.” Perhaps you should not have come here, I wanted to add. Perhaps you should go back where you belong.

That was nice, wasn't it? But now we get this:

I wasn’t sure I wanted that, though. I would always remember the scent of her blood—was there any guarantee that I wouldn’t eventually follow her? Besides, if she left, her mind would forever remain a mystery, a constant, nagging puzzle.

But, remember, he's not going to obsess over her just because he can't read her mind.

What I think Meyer is trying to do is create tension via internal conflict but this... isn't how you do that. Not well anyway. All she's done is have Edward mentally contradict himself over and over again. To do this properly, I feel, he should mentally say he's not going to do thing but actually, physically, catching himself doing it.

He can claim he doesn't want to know about Bella's thoughts then try and sneak a peek at her notebook to see what she's written just in case it's not notes.

That's a little bit better than this flip-flopping we got going on now. Not much, but better.

Back to this slop:

Bella shows Edward how Not Like Other Girls she is because she never answers how Edward expects! Because, as we've seen, Edward is just a master of human behavior.

He 'demands' to know why Bella moved here if she hates Forks so much but realizes he probably sounded very rude and impolite.

Fuck off Meyer. I know what you're trying to do but all the 'Oh, that was so rude!' doesn't make this asshole a gentleman.

Bella gives him the 'It's complicated' not answer and Edward 'implodes out of curiosity'. Surely it'd be implodes with curiosity? Or was Meyer trying to be clever and switch around implode/explode without thinking about the meaning?

WORDS MEAN THINGS

But Edward's 'curiosity' overpowers his thirst for a moment and all I can think of is:

Edward assures her he can keep up, mentally rejoicing that she's answering his questions and that, despite it being 'rude', if he keeps asking she just may keep answering!

Edward has just figured out how conversation works. It only took him a century to do it.

She doesn't answer him immediately, instead staring down at her hands. He wants to see into her void-eyes, longing to be reduced to nothingness, to feel freedom from this existence and the prison that is sanity, but he can't risk reaching out to touch her.

She suddenly looks up to meet his eyes. Why suddenly? I think she just remembered she existed and someone asked her a question.

She tells him, sorrowfully, that her mother got remarried.

“That doesn’t sound so complex,” I said, my voice gentle without my working to make it that way. Her dejection left me oddly helpless, wishing there was something I could do to make her feel better. A strange impulse.

Does anyone even use dejected anymore? Or at least not at the intensity that it used to be? Because when I hear dejected, I just think of the 'aw man, I didn't get the lead role in the school play!' kind of sad.

Also, kinda pointless because we know the reason for Bella's 'dejection', is because she just really hates the rain and mocking her father's lack of a love life or relationship with his only child gets old quick.

He asks if Bella doesn't like her new stepdad but Bella corrects him because she actually does like him. Which completely ruins whatever fantasy Edward was concocting in his head that we don't get to read in this first person narrative, it probably was going along the lines of this little tidbit of information:

Originally, Phil the Stepdad was the principal of her high school and there may or may not have been sexual abuse between him and Bella... thankfully, Meyer's editor told her to cut that shit out. I get the feeling Meyer read/heard of Lolita and thought it was a romance.

They talk about Phil some more, Bella smiling every time he's mentioned which is really making me uncomfortable considering the aforementioned information.

Edward is desperately trying to figure out who Phil is by mentally going over not only the professional ballplayer's rosters but the minor leagues as well. Because, as we know, Edward is a huge baseball fan. I mean, all the times he went on and on about his love of baseball in Twilight. That little story about he's the one who was enough of a nerd to get the family baseball jerseys? So endearing.

Too bad it never happened.

Characterization? In Twilight?

He makes the assumption, which he admits is an assumption, that Bella was sent off so her mother could go travel. Bella objects, saying she sent herself. Edward, master human impersonator, doesn't understand why she's upset by his assumption that she's treated as a piece of property to be sent off at the first sign of inconvenience. That's how women are still treated, right?

“No, she did not send me here,” she said, and her voice had a new, hard edge to it. My assumption had upset her, though I couldn’t quite see how. “I sent myself.” I could not guess at her meaning, or the source behind her pique. I was entirely lost.

Oh, fuck no...

There was just no making sense of the girl. She wasn’t like other humans. Maybe the silence of her thoughts and the perfume of her scent were not the only unusual things about her.

It's going to get worse from here. I've been dreading this part.

There's still so many pages in this chapter i'm gonna die

Edward admits he doesn't get it because he's a dumbass so Bella stares deep into his eyes and decides his consciousness isn't worth the dignity of being torn asunder and tells it to him like he's a damn child.

“She stayed with me at first, but she missed him,” Bella explained slowly, her tone growing more forlorn with each word. “It made her unhappy… so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie.”

“And he has like, pictures of me as a child on the fireplace mantel. Like, how fucking sad is that?”

Edward tells us he keeps saying his theories out loud... like we haven't noticed. Because Meyer has to pad this bitch out somehow and we already know this scene because she's written the same book three times.

Okay, everybody! Who's ready to get pissed off?!

“But now you’re unhappy,” I murmured. I kept speaking my hypotheses aloud, hoping to learn from her refutations. This one, however, did not seem as far off the mark. “And?” she said, as if this was not even an aspect to be considered. I continued to stare into her eyes, feeling that I’d finally gotten my first real glimpse into her soul. I saw in that one word where she ranked herself among her own priorities. Unlike most humans, her own needs were far down the list. She was selfless.

Bella is to selfless as wet is to fire.

I could go on and on with examples but I'm assuming you guys have read Twilight or at least snarks of it. You know everything I could say and more.

Let's just... let's just move on...

Edward says that doesn't sound fair and Bella informs him life isn't fair... Though we know Bella just doesn't like Forks and would throw tantrum after tantrum, ruining the few visits she had with her father growing up until he had to take time off work and spend money he probably didn't have to rent them a place in California for their visits. But sure, she's selfless.

To be honest, I'm not even sure why she said she'd come to Forks. She doesn't like her father so it definitely wasn't to spend time with him. Her mother's a teacher so maybe she didn't want Bella missing school by coming with them even though home school is a thing.

Let's face it, Meyer just needed an excuse to get Bella to Forks.

I was not ready to let this conversation end. The little v between her eyes, a remnant of her sorrow, bothered me. “You put on a good show.” I spoke slowly, still considering this next hypothesis. “But I’d be willing to bet that you’re suffering more than you let anyone see.” She made a face, her eyes narrowing and her mouth twisting into a lopsided frown, and she looked back toward the front of the class. She didn’t like it when I guessed right. She wasn’t the average martyr—she didn’t want an audience for her pain.

What fucking pain? Being slightly damp? Did Charlie forget to get her a pony to go along with the free truck?

Also: what the fuck is a lopsided frown?

Also Also: Fuck off

Edward gloats that he's right and Bella asks why he cares. He completely loses the ability of internal monologue and whispers dramatically: “That's a very good question...”

He wonders, once again, why Bella's thoughts matter so much to him when every other human's thoughts are so completely and utterly insignificant because Humans suck the biggest balls ever.

Also:

I was not used to being the less intuitive of any pairing. I relied on my extra hearing too much—I clearly was not as perceptive as I gave myself credit for.

He thinks he's intuitive... because he can hear thoughts. That's the equivalent of someone just outright telling him what they're thinking. That's not what intuitive means, Meyer!

WORDS FUCKING MEAN THINGS

Is it wrong of me to hope she has Spooky Mormon Hell Dreams?

One musical break later:

Edward is inexplicably amused by the whole situation because Bella's frustrated that he didn't answer her one question that... people usually don't answer... at least not with a real answer. He's finds it funny that she's annoyed when he could easily kill her if he loses focus for even a second and she doesn't even realize it.

He's probably thinking of that Whoopi Goldberg gif and cackling to himself.

Hilarious.

To be even more of a dick, Edward asks if he's annoying her. She confesses that she's annoyed at herself for being so easy to read which amazes him. You get it? Because he can't literally read her thoughts! Because that is literally the only way someone can understand another person. Body language, inflection, and a general understanding of actual human behavior is all fake news.

Edward takes a breather to remind us he isn't alive so using the word 'life' is misleading only he does it in a way that sounds like a whiny emo teen who thinks dressing all in black makes them deep.

Also, this conversation makes no sense.

“Not exactly,” she told me. “I’m more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read—my mother always calls me her open book.”

“On the contrary,” I disagreed, feeling strangely… wary, as if there were some hidden danger here that I was failing to see. Beyond the very obvious danger, something more… I was suddenly on edge, the premonition making me anxious. “I find you very difficult to read.”

“You must be a good reader, then,” she guessed, making her own assumption, which was, again, right on target. “Usually,” I agreed.

I'm sorry, what?

“I'm so easy to read!” “I can't read you.” “You must be a good reader then!”

“I'm an okay painter.” “I can't paint at all.” “Your paints must be amazing then!”

“I can sing the alphabet!” “I'm illiterate.” “You must be an amazing writer then!”

“I'm American.” “I'm from London.” “You must be the Queen of England then!”

Okay, I'm going to stop because that is a rabbit hole if I ever saw one.

But don't worry! The stupid isn't over yet!

Her body was closer to me than before, having shifted unconsciously in the course of our conversation. All the little markers and signs that were sufficient to scare off the rest of humanity did not seem to be working on her. Why did she not cringe away from me in terror? Surely she had seen enough of my darker side to realize the danger.

Also, since I had to use a HP gif: Fuck JK Rowling and the transphobic wagon she rode in on.

Edward goes on for almost an entire page about how he shouldn't get obsessed with Bella while obsessing over Bella. He knows he should stay away from her but he wants to know everything about her but also he wants to eat her but no, he can't! But he finds her so fascinating but he can't allow himself to find her fascinating because then he'll surely kill her!

We get it, Edward, you find her fascinating (because of the void) but being close is dangerous for her. You don't have to use a whole page to repeat yourself over and over again.

Much like the first meeting between them, he runs from the room first chance he gets.

I'm hoping that these last few pages will be easier now that Meyer doesn't have to force the narrative to fit with the dumpster fire that was Twilight. I don't think I can take much more of the 'Bella is amazing!' forced-feeding that was going on.

He takes a deep breath and:

Again, I gasped at the clean, wet air outside as though it was a healing attar.

Someone bitchslap the thesaurus out of her hands.

Emmett is waiting for Edward outside their next class. He tells him that Alice ditched the last half of her class, heading toward the science department. Edward hadn't realized how close he was to killing Bella... evidently.

Emmett reassures him that it turned out fine and he succeeded in not killing anyone...

Or maybe you kill her. He shrugged. You wouldn’t be the first one to mess up. No one would judge you too harshly. Sometimes a person just smells too good. I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long.

Enjoy this helping of victim blaming. It's not Emmett's fault he murdered that grandmother! She shouldn't have smelled so good!

Edward claims he's disgusted by Emmett's acceptance of Bella's 'inevitable' death and, because Emmett is also an asshole, vividly starts remembering the time he killed that one lady.

Also:

Emmett remembered the smell of apples hanging heavy in the air—the harvest was over and the rejected fruits were scattered on the ground, the bruises in their skin leaking their fragrance out in thick clouds.

In Emmett's defense:

I know. I didn’t last half a second. I didn’t even think about resisting.

Oh, wait, that's not a defense.

But remember guys! The Cullens are just so good and love humans and don't want to participate in that life of violence and blah blah blah...

The memory causes Edward to run out of Spanish... where the teacher seems to only speak Spanish which... I don't see how that helps someone else to learn Spanish but then again, Forks High School seems to have a 'throw them in the lake and let them figure out how to swim' approach to learning.

Emmett follows after and apologizes for bringing up the memory but also starts to say Edward should just get his murder on because Bella should know better than to smell so good. She's totally asking for it, amirite?

He sends Emmett away and goes to mope in his car. Again. At least he's more productive this time! He gets a head start on stalking Bella, reading the thoughts of everyone in the school to keep tabs on her.

He listens into Mike's thoughts but since Mike is reassuring himself that Bella doesn't seem to like Edward, Edward pouts and turns on some My Chemical Romance or something until school lets out.

Apparently some outside force compels him to get out of his car and lean against it in that particularly douchey way while waiting for Bella to come out of the school. She randomly appears with no lead up, walking to her truck with a frown on her face.

He watches her get in the truck and hold her hands out toward the heating vents and concludes she must not like the cold. You see, the only reason someone who just told you they don't like the cold would use the heater to warm up after being in the cold is because they don't like being cold!

Bella throws the truck in reverse, almost killing a girl by almost ramming into her car. Bella, fully aware of what she almost did, carefully checks her blind spots twice before cautiously leaving.

Edward laughs because Bella thinks she's dangerous after most causing a serious traffic accident. Oh, how adorable.

In case you forgot: Edward is an asshole.

And that's the end of the chapter!

And I was right, the last few pages was much easier to get through. I think, going forward, I'm going to have to cut some of these chapters into sections, especially the Twilight Recap heavy ones. It's just too hard for me to get through those quickly.

Anyway, I'm going to take a much needed break and continue my Friday the 13th marathon.

Save me, Tommy Jarvis, you're my only ho.

((EDIT: All future book reviews/snarks will be posted to my tumblr.))

#Book Snark #Midnight Sun #Twilight

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missbugaboo · 4 years

Text

Marimag Mayhem (2)

As a fourth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Marinette was sure that life could no longer surprise her. And yet, even she could hardly believe her eyes when she first laid them on the blond boy she met, in the Requirement Room that she had not expected to find. The boy with cat eyes. The boy with cat ears. Chat Noir.

Marichat May, Hogwarts AU.

fanfiction.net / AO3

tagging @marichatmay, as requested ^^

Day 2: Bell

"Okay, but there is one thing I really can't understand, no matter how hard I try," Marinette's new acquaintance said nonchalantly, seated comfortably on the couch right next to the armchair she had picked for herself. "I mean, you're a Gryffindor, right? Gryffindor students are proud. Not in the same way the Slytherins are... but still. And yet here you are, openly making fun of your own House, mocking the one quality that others only boast about. Why?"

It'd been a good few minutes since Marinette had made up her mind about staying in the mystery room, and yet, these were the first words her companion had said to her since then. She didn't know whether it was his anxiety showing itself again - after all, the little displays from afore were enough to make her realise that his buoyant behaviour was really just a front meant to conceal the fears that ran inside him, even though she could hardly tell what those problems really were right now....

...Or if he was just busy forming the question he'd just asked to talk about anything else.

Well, she supposed a question like this demanded some thinking on his part.

"I don't know," she answered him, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. "It's an honest opinion. Do I really need a logical argument for the way I feel about things?"

"There must be some reason for it though, there always is," he disagreed. "Even if it's completely subjective. But also... It just doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense is that we've been chatting for at least ten minutes now, Cat-Boy, and you still haven't told me your name. Now that's weird."

The boy in front of her only grinned.

"Funny thing, since I don't remember hearing yours, Griffin-Girl," he parried easily. "Besides, you're changing the subject. Why are you against your own House?"

"I'm not against it. All I did was suggest that in most cases, the so-called Gryffindor Courage has more to do with thoughtlessness than bravery. It's not like it never works - sometimes that little bit of carelessness is what you need to take the first steps you wouldn't have taken otherwise. Still, as useful as it can be sometimes, it's hardly something to be particularly proud of. Not to mention, more often than not it only causes you more trouble."

"Does it really?"

Marinette nodded.

"Are you talking from experience? I just want to make sure, since you seem terribly confident in that belief."

"I've been in this school, in this House for more than three years now. All of my closest friends are in Gryffindor and trust me, some of them are like a textbook definition of it, both in terms of bravery and recklessness alike. And frankly, half the time I could burst with how proud I am of them; if only I didn't spend the other half on a verge of a heart attack, worrying for their safety as they set off to their next stunt. They are brave, I'm not saying that they're not. But much as I love them, they also can be a bunch of fools sometimes."

He didn't answer her immediately, and not even some moments later. Slightly surprised, Marinette glanced at him, half expecting to see him pondering over what she'd just said, or perhaps even catch him attending to something entirely different and therefore not at all focused on the explanation he himself had asked for.

Instead, she was met with a steady, imploring gaze, so intense that she suddenly wanted to curl up and hide behind her armchair instead of sitting comfortably on it.

He didn't even know what her name was and yet, she felt like another ten seconds of watching her like this would allow him to discover more about her than she'd ever told anyone.

It would have been scary if it hadn't been so incredibly kind.

He was worried about her.

"And why are you talking about them and not about you?" he asked before she could react in any way. "You are a Gryffindor, too, and yet not once have I heard you speak of yourself as a part of your House. How is that possible?"

"That's... That's not what I did at all!" she protested now, her cheeks flushing red all of the sudden. "I mean, okay, maybe it sounded like it. A little. But that's not the case here!"

"Isn't it?"

"No! I love my friends. And I'm more than happy that I've had the chance to get to know them, which wouldn't have happened if we'd been sorted into different Houses, and we are a team, so whatever you're trying to imply here -"

"I wasn't implying anything," he cut her off. "You on the other hand, have just implied a whole lot of things yourself."

Marinette looked at him, unable to make a sensible comment on her part. His eyes were still fixed on hers, his gaze just as meaningful as before, if not more so, now additionally filled with comprehension that hadn't been there earlier. She swallowed hard, realising she'd accidentally blurted out her most cherished secret - the most uncomfortable, unwelcome truth, one that she'd been trying to squash ever since her first day at Hogwarts twenty long months ago.

And she did that in front of someone she'd known for less than a quarter of an hour altogether.

How had he managed to provoke her to do that?

"You don't think you belong there, do you?" he heard him ask with the same warm sternness that she could've already seen in his look. "You don't think you should have been put in Gryffindor to begin with. Is that correct?"

"It's not that simple," she opposed weakly and pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin against her knees. "The people in our House, they really are like family to me. Alya, Nino, Alix... They are the best comrades I could have wished for. And it's not just them, it really goes for most of the students. So no, I wouldn't say I don't belong there... In fact, I'm grateful that the Sorting Hat had decided to put me in that place. I just never really understood why."

Her interlocutor's gaze softened a bit as he smiled fondly at her. "Not feeling enough of a moron yourself, huh?"

Marinette's blush only grew deeper.

"More like, I'm not the right type," she mumbled. "Of a moron, that is. And even then, there's much more to it than just my intelligence. I'm... I'm a klutz. I'm awkward and clumsy and whatever you might say about Gryffindor students, they're not that. I don't have that laid back attitude they usually show, or the confidence that makes them dive without thinking into the worst of messes because they simply can't imagine not getting themselves out of it. But first and foremost..."

She paused and looked away, unconsciously starting to worry at her lip. She closed her eyes, too, shut them tight in an display of obvious chagrin, before concluding:

"I just don't think I'm brave enough. Not in the way they expect me to be."

She hid her face in her knees, her embrace around her calves tightening even further. She didn't want to admit that; didn't want to give voice to the fears she'd been trying so hard to ignore.

So why did she?

"There are many kinds of courage, though," her companion told her then. "You look like a smart girl, you must realise that. I mean, that's basically what you've just said, so you do, so... You know."

"Actually, I'm not sure I do," she replied; her voice was quiet, however, there now was a faint hint of amusement in it. "But that's fine. It doesn't really matter."

"It clearly does to you!" he opposed her. "You wouldn't be sitting like this if it didn't."

Marinette growled.

"Oh, and now you're a character judge, too? Weren't you supposed to be like, bad with human relations or something?"

"I'm only telling what I see."

"Well, I bet those cat eyes are helping a lot."

He laughed then, a full, sonorous laughter that made it impossible for Marinette not to look up at him again. He covered his mouth with his hand immediately, undoubtedly trying to stifle it. He failed miserably, snorting and coughing awkwardly, while at the same time, his eyes remained so full of mirth that even a deaf person would have had no trouble guessing how he really felt.

Marinette regarded him for a moment, completely at a loss as to what she should do next - how she should respond to this sudden reaction of his.

Her words had been anything but cordial, and yet, he was laughing?

"I'm sorry, it's just... The way you said it..." he explained in between the chuckles. "I don't know, I probably shouldn't have laughed. Only... It's so good to finally have someone to banter with like this."

His hand was pressed at the nape of his neck again, as he rubbed it awkwardly, a sheepish expression once more reflecting on his face. Marinette eyes him for a moment, not sure how to respond - not like it was anything new, really - and instead chose to wait for him to add something on his part.

He must have noticed her confusion because he froze in place the next moment, raising both of his hands in a gesture that looked both defensive and apologetic, and said, "No! I mean, bantering probably isn't the best word for it, is it? After all, you don't really banter with someone you've just met, and surely not so early into the conversation, right? It's something you do with your friends, and only the close ones, because obviously, it's a delicate matter and it's foolish to assume you might even want to banter with someone like me. Someone you don't know at all! I mean, how crazy would that be? I don't even know your name, we couldn't be further from close."

He stopped talking then, as if ashamed of letting himself be carried away in this manner. His jaw clenched as he turned away, his very real cat ears flat against his head; the change in him so sudden that for a second there Marinette was sure that her mind was playing tricks on her.

Just how anxious was that boy?

He could successfully rival with me right now, she thought, concerned. And at my worst moments, too. Not to mention, even I don't shift so swiftly.

"Marinette," she said out loud, hoping the simple introduction would be enough to chase away some of the awkwardness; magic knew there was nothing else she could think of. "My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And I'm more than pleased to meet you."

Acting entirely on instinct, she reached out her hand towards him; hearing her words, he looked back at her again and then blinked, clearly taken aback but the gesture that accompanied them. His gaze went from her face to hand and back again, so many times that Marinette started to think that he might not take it after all, and almost withdrew it - but then he made his move, grasping her hand and squeezing it firmly, as if he'd been afraid that she might fade away if he hadn't.

She smiled warmly.

He really was a puzzle to her.

"So, since you know my name now, Chaton," she added when she realised that he was not going to say anything on his part. "Do you think we can be friends, banter and all?"

The smile he gave her in return was the most grateful expression she'd ever been gifted with.

Good Godric, he was practically glowing.

"Banter and all. Yes, please," he replied eagerly. "I mean, yes, I'd like that. Very, very much."

"Great, then it looks like we've got a deal," Marinette giggled. "No backing off now."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Their conversation was cut off abruptly by the sound of the bell, announcing the end of Marinette's break. She nearly jumped upon hearing it, letting go of her partner's hand and turning rapidly towards the entrance of the room, surprised.

Was it really time to go already?

"I... must have miscalculated how much time it took me to come here," she said timidly, glancing back at the boy by her side. "I really gotta go, or I'll be late to Transfiguration and I definitely don't want to get on Professor Mendeleyev's bad side again. I... guess I'll see you around?"

Before he could answer her, Marinette was back on her feet with both her books and wand held securely in her tight grip. She flashed him a smile and waved at him. Then she was off, running towards the exit (she sure hoped it was an exit as well) with the speed of a Quidditch champion in their prime.

"Wait, but I haven't told you-" her companion called after her, but it was too late. The door had opened and closed and she was no longer there, with nothing but his own memory to remind him of her.

...my name, he finished in his thoughts, dazed. Then he shook his head and took a deep breath, determined not to give in to the disappointment he felt at her sudden departure and, even though there was no one there to see it, he forced himself to smile.

It was the beginning, not the end.

One way or another, he would see her again.

Even if you don't come, even if you forget, I won't let you get rid of me that easily, he vowed. After all... we've got ourselves a deal, ma Belle.

#my writing #marichat #marichat may 2020 #day 2: bell #miraculous ladybug #hogwarts au

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layer-bloody-sun · 4 years

Note

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR OCS IMMEDIATELY. Also please rate them on a sale from 0 (not at all gremlin-like) to 10 (absolute gremlin bastard) thank u -Miserytheapprentice

For the sake of myself I won't talk about all of them but only the mains of my recent stories. The Layers are also out because there's 57 of them, I'll just keep Cana because I see you're into the Arcana 👀

So let's start with her ! Cana is a girl, my apprentice, her full real name is Darla Morgasdottir and she is Lucio's sister. She is very kind and protective, ready to put her life on the line (as shown during the plague). As one of the Layers she has some special abilities, in game this shows as her knowing what to do at certain times. Her Ego is named Déluge and he can control destiny.

•She is self aware in some realities/routes.

• Cana loves having friends and family around her, her cat familiar Coony is like half of her soul,

•Mélusine (@nimusicaltrash apprentice) is like a little sister to her !

Next up is Luard. He's my own Oc for my story The Traveller's Journey and the main character along with the next one. Luard us a demon from a race closest to human in appearance, so he possesses horns and pointy ears. He is very calm and composed, he has this sage aura surrounding him. He is loving and cares a lot about his family. Luard is a loving father,

• He crave peace and understanding between his people and humans.

• His purple eyes means he has affinity with thunder lightning, yet he's more proficient in fire magic

• His horns lacking ornaments other than very simplistic ones symbolise grief.

Ambre is the second MC of TTJ, she is a bright young woman looking for her father who instead fall upon Luard and they have to travel together. She is energetic and loves to learn, she has an open mind and easily adapts to new environments. She loves reading, learning, and talking.

• She is the daughter of the Hero and has an incredible magic potential

• Her favorite animals are foxes

• She does a 360° after meeting Luard

Orville is the dad of the MC of a new story of mine that still doesn't has a name (neither does the mc). He's a guardian watching over the forest that takes most of the small country they live in. He loves joking around and teasing his daughter. He's this crazy sage aura. He loves tending to the little creatures of the forest

• Orville isn't his real name, he forgot it, Mc's mother gave it to him

• He has scars from barbed wire on his head and neck from when hunters tried to take him down

• Mushrooms and tree bark are growing on him but he doesn't mind

Narish is from NoDol (D stylized), he's a police officer that is in charge of the case of recent murder plaguing the city. He's short tempered and snarly, only like coffee, stay cats and dogs, and sometimes people.

• Clinton Balagoire, his subordinate, is his only human friend

• Has an unhealthy obsession with the local weirdo

• once spend four days awake to catch a spider in his flat. He called in sick as well. He was not victorious.

Barchal, local weirdo and engineer, is an adept of teasing. Especially Narish. He's a creator that has done wonders for the city, and yet is the officer's main suspect in the murders. He's a workaholic fueled by coffee and sheer willpower

• Had a friend named Anthony that passed away soon after Barch open his workshop

• his library is full of books about deities and strange alchemy myths

• His workshop is so messy Allan once disappeared for days under piles of blueprints.

Allan is what could be called either a umonculus or a chimera, he is not human in the slightest and tends to frighten people by his appearance. He's a very sweet and the naive creature, always willing to help his 'father'. He loves playing around and helping Barchal.

• his favorite task is making coffee

• he can't speak nor make any kind of cries/sound

• He thinks Narish is funny

Jack is from Underground Wanderers, he seems to be a talking skull that also can use a little magic. He helps the Mc in exchange for finding his body as they climb the different levels. He's annoying and presumptuous, sees himself as some kind of superior being and is a real dick. Despite all that he also has a softer side he shows Mc after a while. Deep down he cares and enjoy her company.

• May have made him a hot human for the ending

• Uses magic through singing. Dislike any remark comparing him to bards

• Came here to become a 'Caretaker' yet can't remember where he came from of when exactly he came here

Cleïa is the Mc mentioned above, she is very sweet and shy, she got trapped underground because of a haunted house trip that turned sour. She's frightened easily and doesn't like people much, probably has anxiety problems but it never got checked out. She loves reading, resting, and write everything that happens in a notebook

• Always has a satchel but it's filled with useless stuff

• Slapped Jack the first time because he scared her

• Where does the bandage on her cheek comes from ? Who knows, not me

Taya is from Blurred memories, she's an energetic young woman that lives with her brother but longs for adventure. She can't stay in place and tries to get stuff done all the time. She loves stories and myths and want to learn always more about everything around the world

• proficient in water magic

• is forbidden near any alcohol

• Has mismatched eyes

Oliver is her big brother (but Hezekiel is the oldest of the family). He is composed and calm, very mature and civil. The epitome of a gentleman. He owns a bar in the human part of their world and tries to slowly change the reputation of witches. He loves a good cup of tea and a nice book, as well as naps.

• can be too strict but cares deeply

• his best friend is the reason for a creepy legend and is basically a living cryptide.

• his the Guardian of the youngest prince but doesn't do his work right because he doesn't care.

Tad is a young man the same age as Taya, he's the third prince of the witches and tries to be like Oliver who he fancies. He's shy and clumsy but does his best in everything he does. He's hard working, just not talented. He loves the sea and spending time with his friends

• Has a sea shells collection

• Has three perfectly aligned beauty marks on his right cheek

• Did a power move once and started getting more secure about himself since (it'd be a spoiler sorry)

Bäriste is a Demon under the form of a late teenager girl (19) that comes from my story It Started Before Us. She's an adept of sarcasm and tease, loving to just mess with people and their lives. She can be a bitch and is detached from emotions in general

• It's her last reincarnation so she's making the most of it

• Her hair split in the middle on each side and gets darker and horn-like

• Has a necklace she never takes off

Last but not least, Gayl is a werewolf, also 19, attending the same school as Bäriste. He acts cool and mysterious but is actually socially awkward and dislikes people in general. He loves peace and quiet, which he never gets at home since he has a very big family. He loves them a lot too tho.

• Fall in love of Bäriste on sight, to his latter utmost horror.

• he wears glasses which is ironic since werewolves have good eyesight. He's the only one in his family

• His best pal is a vampire that tried to feed off Bäriste and would have been killed if Gayl hadn't intervene by accident.

Gremlin scale :

Cana : 5

Luard : 0/1

Ambre : 3

Orville : 6

Narish : 2

Barchal : 8

Allan : 0

Jack : 3

Cleïa : 8

Taya : 10

Oliver : 0

Tad : 2

Bäriste : 10

Gayl : 0-5

There, if u want more about them tell me, or if you want to hear about other ocs or even the Layers...just hmu 👀

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rachelkaser · 4 years

Text

Stay Golden Sunday: The Custody Battle

Dorothy’s sister Gloria arrives and wants Sophia to come live with her. Rose and Blanche clash over a production of Macbeth.

Picture It...

Dorothy and Sophia are tidying ahead of the arrival of Gloria, Sophia’s other daughter and Dorothy’s little sister. Sophia subtly needles Dorothy for not having a date -- and fortuitously, Blanche enters and asks to borrow Dorothy’s jewelry for her own date. She’s going on a date with the director of the local community theater, who she’s hoping will soon cast her as Lady Macbeth. Sophia continues to nag Dorothy for not having a date. Dorothy gets angry at Sophia for her meddling, and demands space. Sophia leaves in a huff.

The next morning, Blanche is confident her tete-a-tete with the director will get her the part, though she and Rose are still going to the audition. Dorothy and Sophia are still annoyed at each other, but put it aside when Gloria arrives. Gloria, a wealthy widow, gives her mother and sister fabulous gifts. When Sophia guilts her over staying in a hotel, Dorothy offers to let Gloria share her (Dorothy’s) room.

DOROTHY: Hi! How was the audition? BLANCHE: Wonderful! I’m 99% sure I got the part. ROSE: Oh Blanche, there were so many good people there. BLANCHE: Trust me, I got this part in the sack. ROSE: She means in the bag. DOROTHY: No honey, she means in the sack.

That night, as Sophia and Gloria are out shopping, Blanche comes back from the audition convinced she got the part. She and Rose ask about Gloria’s relationship with Dorothy, and Dorothy confesses she’s always felt her parents favored Gloria. Blanche relates how she felt the same way about her parents and her sisters. Rose exposits about her idyllic family life, annoying the other girls enough that Blanche lets the kitchen door slam in her face.

Gloria and Dorothy settle down in bed together, with Gloria asking if Dorothy resents her for having money, a happy marriage and successful children -- none of which Dorothy has (and gee, nice of you to point it out, Gloria). Dorothy says she has grown beyond such sibling rivalry. Gloria continues to go on about her palatial home in California. Dorothy says she and Sophia would love to come out for a visit, and Gloria finally drops the bomb: She wants Sophia to come live with her, and Sophia agreed.

GLORIA: This reminds me of when we were little and you used to read me bedtime stories. DOROTHY: Oh yeah, yeah... the Bogeyman and the Little Girl... the Zombie in the Hamper... Cannibal Parents. I think between the ages of 5 and 7 you might have gotten two hours’ sleep.

Dorothy talks to Sophia about her plan to live with Gloria. Sophia avoids talking about what she wants, and says this way she can give Dorothy space. Dorothy doesn’t try to dissuade her, saying Gloria can give her a better life. Sophia looks very uncertain when Dorothy leaves.

In the kitchen, both Rose and Dorothy deliver bad news to Blanche. Rose says Blanche was cast as Witch #3, and Rose got the part of Lady Macbeth. Dorothy tells both that Sophia is leaving, and they’re heartbroken, insisting that they don’t want Sophia to leave. Dorothy forbids them from guilting Sophia, and leaves. Rose offers to let Blanche fill in for her as Lady Macbeth, but Blanche demurs gracefully.

BLANCHE: Well Rose, isn’t that sweet? And I do love you for it, honey, but I just couldn’t. I could never fit this trim little body in that big old tent of a dress they’re going to have to make for you.

After avoiding it for a few hours, Dorothy gives in and confronts Gloria, telling her it’s not fair of her to steal Sophia away when she’s already the favorite. Gloria reveals that she thinks Dorothy is the favorite, because Sophia respected and trusted her and constantly pointed out how much smarter and self-reliant she was to Gloria. Gloria admits she’s envious of how happy Dorothy’s life is compared with hers, and she wanted part of that. She says she knows Sophia doesn’t want to leave, and Dorothy goes to talk to their mother.

Dorothy demands that Sophia stay, and Sophia at first refuses but then agrees. She says she and Dorothy both need a little space from each other occasionally, but she’ll stay and look after the Girls. She breaks the news to Gloria, who understands. Sophia says she’s happy that both of her daughters love her and want her around so much.

SOPHIA: I love you. I love all my children. GLORIA: Even Phil? SOPHIA: Sure -- but don’t tell him, he’ll want to borrow money.

Later that night, the Girls are ecstatic that Sophia isn’t leaving. She brings them presents she was planning to give them when she thought she was moving. They open the presents and discover their own things, which Sophia purloined. After she leaves the kitchen, they wonder what else she might have taken and go to search her room. Rose cautiously exits last, worried about the door slamming in her face again.

“I think all my children are special... except Phil.”

I’ll be honest, there’s a reason for the gap between this review and the last one. Sure, Christmas and New Years (not to mention a busted keyboard) shifted my priorities a bit, but were this almost any other episode, I would have still gotten it out no matter what else was going on. But the truth is, I didn’t allot the necessary time to analyze this episode because... well, I didn’t want to. Because this episode is just not very good.

Remember when I said that Golden Girls had no truly bad episodes, but there were some that were noticeably lower-rung than others? This wasn’t the episode I had in mind when I said that (I’ll tell you which episode was when we get to it), but this is still a pretty good example of what I mean. It’s not particularly funny, has no meaningful message, doesn’t involve any character growth, and is confusingly written.

SOPHIA: I should have known you couldn’t make it without me. DOROTHY: You’re right, I can’t. And neither can Blanche. And neither can Rose. SOPHIA: Of course not Rose. The woman can hardly find her way to work!

I’d never given it much thought before I had to pick it apart for this blog. Now that I’ve watched it with a necessarily discerning eye, I couldn’t help but get this weird sense of flatness. Not badness, per se, just a total lack of good distinguishing features.

For example, I usually insert one of my favorite one-liners as the header text above my analysis section, and I had to really pick apart this episode to come up with any single line that gave me a little smile. That’s not to say that there aren’t funny exchanges in this episode, but no Girl is given a single stand-out line that’s still funny, divorced from context. I’m using an “except Phil” line because this is the first time we see Sophia use it as more of a catchphrase.

I don’t have any behind-the-scenes material that might explain why the episode feels so lacking. Maybe it’s because this is Terry Hughes’ first episode as director? There are definitely places where the script doesn’t feel nearly as tight as it could be -- the several minutes Rose spends reminiscing about her happy childhood don’t really do much besides fill time, except maybe set up for the “kitchen door face slam” gag.

ROSE: *reminiscing about her saccharine family Christmases* And then Daddy would tell us a story, and tuck us into our feather-- DOROTHY: Who was your father, Rose? Michael Landon?

If I had to put this down to a single element, I think it’d be the portrayal of Gloria. Sisterly rivalry is a recurring theme in this show . . . seriously, none of the Girls have good relationships with their sisters. We saw this already with Blanche and Virginia, but Dorothy and Gloria provide a slightly different take on it. Whereas Virginia and Blanche have been clashing their whole lives and are only just now starting to reconcile, Dorothy and Gloria have a warm and loving relationship with unaddressed resentment beneath the surface.

The difference is, Virginia gave the impression of being a three-dimensional character. There were subtleties to her, such as her inability to keep from rising to Blanche’s bait no matter how much she claimed to want a more peaceful relationship. That just doesn’t exist with Gloria, or at least not Gloria as she exists in this episode.

In fact, the writers don’t seem to have a clue what to do with Gloria. She’s explicitly stated to be distant from her mother and sister, never inviting them to her home in California and only calling three times a year and yet wants her mother to move in with her. She’s sometimes obliviously insensitive, and yet has enough self-awareness to shoot holes in Dorothy’s insecurities.

I’m not sure if I like the fact that the resolution of the rivalry is Gloria saying, “Actually, I’m envious of you and want part of your happiness for myself,” as opposed to, “I, too, wish to spend some of my mother’s last years with her.” It just doesn’t seem realistic that Gloria’s desire to spend time with Sophia is rooted in her feelings towards Dorothy. It seems more like the ending to a revenge fantasy than a proper wrap-up of the story.

BLANCHE: Now, when were little, every year my sisters had huge parties. With clowns and magicians and tons of presents. DOROTHY: And you didn’t? BLANCHE: Well not exactly. I mean, I did have parties and I had presents but... I never had a clown. *smiles* Not until I was... BLANCHE & DOROTHY: Much older.

It doesn’t help that the B-plot is a little undercooked. Blanche’s extreme desire for a part in “Mister William Shakespeare’s masterpiece” is funny enough, especially since she thinks her sexual performance is an adequate substitute for theatrical performance -- I mean, she’s Blanche. She probably thinks her sexual performance is enough to eclipse all other forms of performance anywhere, ever.

But what I don’t get about it is how Rose managed to snag the part of Lady Macbeth despite not wanting it. Granted, it’s been a long time since my community theater days, but I think you generally have to say which parts you’re auditioning for before you audition, so the director doesn’t cast someone who can’t commit the time to a big role. I could be wrong about that, though. I get that Rose not expressing any of her own interest in the play makes it extra funny when she actually gets the part, but it’s still a little confusing to me.

Still, I don’t want to end the review on a sour note, so I’ll say this: There’s not much in the way of a moral or character growth in this episode, but there is something to be said for Dorothy and Sophia coming to the conclusion that too much togetherness isn’t good for them. Given that we’re now going on a year in pandemic lockdown, I can’t help but think that’ll resonate with some of us.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰 (two cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite Part of the Episode:

The exchange between Rose and Blanche over the casting of Lady Macbeth, culminating in Blanche brandishing a kitchen knife in the most darkly funny way possible:

#stay golden #golden girls #stay golden sunday #dorothy zbornak #rose nylund #sophia petrillo #blanche devereaux #macbeth #picture it #s01e12 #except phil

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sobstoriesandshitposts · 5 years

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2019 has already ended but here’s a list (+ my unasked for opinions) of all the books I’ve read in 2019 in chronological order, Part 2.

((Disclaimer: this is a shitpost for myself and highly overrun by my emotions — I shall not be held accountable if my opinion is taken seriously. And I know it’s 2020 already, but procrastination is prevalent.))

By the way, here’s part 1, if you’d like.

8. The Dragon Republic

Rin was an absolute mess the entire book and god knows how frustrated I got with the dumb decisions™ she made every step of the way. But the poor girl was going through some shit and she picked it all up at the end, so I’m ready for the third installment, and to finally, see the end of the poppy war. Also, THE THIRD BOOK HAS BEEN NAMED “THE BURNING GOD” and I stan. But generally, book 2 wasn’t very memorable to me, and I don’t remember it very well anymore so it was eh.

Characters: 3/5

Plot: 3.5/5

General feel things factor: 3.5/5

9. An Ember in the Ashes

God, I WAS SO DISAPPOINTED BY THIS BOOK. I almost hate it. I might actually. It’s definitely the book I dislike most of 2019. Ok listen, I’m pretty sure I dislike it because I hadn’t been in the right mindset to read it, and it just ended up not being the kind of book I was looking for in terms of plot and mood. Maybe it was intentional, but everything ended up being really dreary and boring and so underwhelming to me. I didn’t feel anything for the story nor for the characters (whose names I no longer remember). I mostly wanted to follow the first girl’s story rather than the other two characters (even though honestly, I didn’t care for what was happening to her either) so I ended up skimming half of the book and then forcing myself to finish the rest of it. Why didn’t I just DNF it? I don’t know too. I was probably going through some kinda mood.

Characters: 1/5

Plot: 1.5/5

General feel things factor: 1/5

10. To Kill a Kingdom

NOW. I’ve seen some reviews on this, and boy, were they mixed — but let’s ignore them, because here is my significant opinion: it was cute. I think tkak is just a simple, short fantasy-romance that got out a cute couple and was done with it. I loved Lira’s character, idk there was just something about her dryness (hah, even though she’s a siren-) that I really enjoyed. Although I have to say, the main guy character had been rather bland, and I don’t remember his name anymore. But anyway, I liked the first-meeting-girl-slaps-boy-scene. I liked the pirates. I liked the romance. I liked the straight-forwardness. I liked the happy ending. (And after AEITA, this was exactly what I needed.) So 10 points to Alexandra Christo.

Characters: 3.5/5

Plot: 3.5/5

General feel things factor: 3.5/5

11. An Enchantment of Ravens

SO. DAMN. ADORABLE. Some people hate enchantment, some people don’t. I personally absolutely loved it. I found Isobel and Rook so cute together, and everything was just really soft and fluffy. Like tkak, it’s just a short and sweet romance, but it leans more towards the fairytale vibes — and I was vibing. I found both the main characters so whimsical and dramatic and ridiculous and they were just so ENJOYABLE to read about. The plot was simple and to the point and it didn’t meander when it didn’t have to — so I don’t care what anyone has to say, an enchantment of ravens is probably one of my favorite reads in 2019 and I adore it. (And the line “Now stop making me feel things.” is just iconic to me. I mean, please, Rook.)

Characters: 4.5/5

Plot: 4/5

General feel things factor: 4.5/5

12. Graceling

Alright, so this is the book I ended on before I stopped reading, aka stopped ignoring the reality of my exams, to start studying for my exams. I found Po and Katsa cute together and I enjoyed their dynamics, but they got a little boring towards the end. I think their relationship got too mature and serious for me (or maybe exams looming over my head just made me really depressed) so they lost the childish charm about them that had drawn me in in the first place. But that doesn’t change the fact that Katsa is an absolute badass, that the entire scene in the courtyard where they fought is iconic, and that the truth behind Po’s sight at the end made me cry. Wasn’t my favourite, but graceling was enjoyable, which was exactly what I needed to feel satisfied to end on, and not too drawn into a world that I needed another one to replace it after it ended. Thank you Graceling, for saving whatever had been left of my grades.

Characters: 2.5/5

Plot: 3/5

General feel things factor: 3/5

13. The Cruel Prince (& The Wicked King & The Queen Of Nothing)

This is definitely my favourite book (and series) of 2019 and I was ruined by it. I actually had to reread the cruel prince, because the first time I did, I didn’t enjoy it and that didn’t sit right with me — I mean, come on, Holly Black is my queen and there’s no way I’d dislike a 4.2 star book of hers. And boy, was that one of the best decisions I’ve made in 2019. I was so immersed in Jude’s world and everything she was about to face; I rooted for her the whole way. I loved her character so, so much (for once, we get an mc that is actually smart). I loved Cardan so, so much. Honestly, I truly liked all of the characters. And Jurdan? I live for that sh*t. I was completely floored by this trilogy and I. Still. Want. More. (+ The quotes from this series??? Just freaking iconic.)

Characters: 5/5

Plot: 5/5

General feel things factor: 5/5

14. Sorcery of Thorns

Ah, yes, another one of the books I was disappointed by. After An Enchantment of Ravens, I had been so excited to read the second work of Margaret Rogerson, but it wasn’t what I thought it’d be. I really enjoyed it at first, but around the half way point I started to get bored and almost DNFed it. And yes, I am aware that Sorcery is meant to be an epic fantasy and is different from Enchantment, but I just thought that the characters would still have that whimsical, ridiculous flair that had been done so well in Enchantment — but the character building here kind of just fell flat for me. Although there were moments I did enjoy reading about Elisabeth and Nathaniel, I just didn’t really see the chemistry between them and I couldn’t appreciate their interactions and banter much. I felt like Silas was just a cookie-cutter “cold on the outside but warm on the inside” character as well. Okay, I’m being extra harsh on this book because of my crushing disappointment from great expectations, but actually, Sorcery had been a pretty good read that started off well. Although the middle got a little dry, i think it picked itself up again at the end and I felt compelled to finish it. Plus, Silas’ moment made me tear up even when I hadn’t expected myself to, so, that’s always a bonus.

Characters: 3/5

Plot: 3/5

General feel things factor: 3/5

15. The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue

So whimsical. So funny. So light-hearted — yet it had the surprise punch-you-in-the-gut feels. I spent a good deal of time laughing over Henry’s antics (when he ran naked around Versailles???? Oh my god, what are you doing, Henry?) and his efforts at trying to be a decent human-being. It was honestly, a very heart-felt and romantic story, which really has me torn up because how does Mackenzi Lee weave in so many heavy, important themes like abuse, trauma, racial and sexual discrimination and mental illness, and still make it such a light-hearted story — that was done well? (And lets not forget how she’s also managed to include some serious Fullmetal Alchemist vibes in there complete with murders and violins and pirates. Geez.) She’s a genius that’s how. The number of times I’ve almost cried, but was saved by Henry’s comments is just- ugh. If there’s any book I’d recommend just for being a damn good book, it’d be this one because, wow, was it good.

Characters: 4.5/5

Plot: 4/5

General feel things factor: 4.5/5

16. Carry On

We have now reached my final book of 2019: it was an absolute delight and one of my favourites. I just loved the characters, like they were so enjoyable to read about. I mean, I felt like Simon had a stick up his ass for a good portion of the beginning, but he softened up later on and my god, Baz. I loved his character so much. And the pining? HELL YES. And then, of course, his refusal to admit that he was pining to anyone else but himself. Simon and Baz were just extremely shippable, and I was ready to gobble up whatever I could of their romance. So fluffy, so ridiculous. Rainbow Rowell also made good use of the switching POVs. I normally dislike it when author’s switch the perspectives because it tells a side of the story that I really don’t care for (ahem, an ember in the ashes...) but Rowell did it so damn well. Even Agatha’s pov was enjoyable. She provided a different perspective on things compared to the other characters and I actually really liked her “I don’t want to have anything to do with this bullshit” take on things. It was fresh, and funny, even if she was being an ass half the time. So, Carry On? It’s a yes from me.

Characters: 4/5

Plot: 3/5

General feel things factor: 4/5

And finally, my 3 DNFs, in which I will rant about them just a little:

1) Wicked Fox

Didn’t like the writing style. Normally I don’t notice writing styles much because I’m just not that good with the technicalities, but Wicked Fox’s bothered me and I just couldn’t enjoy it. Also, I wasn’t in the mood to be patient, so I just decided to drop it.

2) Serpent & Dove

I actually really liked the beginning, but I think I wasn’t in the right headspace and I started to get bored by it, so I stopped reading. I’ll probably pick it up again in the future when I’m in the mood for it though :)

3) Throne or Glass

My god. I picked this up purely as tribute for Feysand — which, I guiltily admit, I really enjoyed — but- I- I couldn’t get past the first five chapters of tog. Putting aside the writing style (Why! Are! There! So! Many! Exclamation! Marks!), I didn’t feel anything for any of the characters, and any of the scenes. I don’t know what it is, but everything just felt so disconnected from me, and I had an inkling that I wasn’t going to care about what happened to the mc, or what happened with her and the other two (who I presume are) love interests because even on first impression, and a little past that, both seemed so bland to me. Sigh.

That’s it for the list; if you’re still here, good on you.

#the dragon republic #an ember in the ashes #to kill a kingdom #an enchantment of ravens #graceling #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #sorcery of thorns #the gentleman’s guide to vice and virtue #carry on

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rorykillmore · 5 years

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and this one is for @mikexxwheeler who asked for something with mike and villanelle, who were a BLAST to go back and write for since it’s been a while since we rped them together

merry christmas jace!!! consistently our friendship is one of the things that brightens up my life the most, and i wanted to tell you how much i appreciate you just... reaching out to me and maintaining that even during the times when we’re not actively writing together or anything. even if it’s just one of our silly memes or a joke about whatever crazy thing a politician did recently (or linking the star wars holiday special in its entirety, which of course we then proceed to drop everything and watch.) it always just. instantly lifts my mood to get a message from you, and being friends with you is one of the things i’ve treasured most over the years. as carrie fisher would say... [weird emotional musical number set to the tune of the star wars theme]

She’s not the kind of person who drops ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ into her internal monologue without actually preparing for the worst that could happen. She isn’t stupid.

“Are you sure you do not want to be seeing Star Wars, or something boys your age should like?” Villanelle asks conversationally as she and Mike wait in the concessions line outside the movie theater. “Apparently there’s a new one out.”

“Yeah, but I heard it sucks,” Mike tells her with thinly veiled disdain. “They made the main character, like, the granddaughter of Palpatine, or something.”

“Which one is Palpatine?” asks Villanelle, who hasn’t seen a Star Wars movie since she was about twelve. “Wait -- is he -- ?”

Mike nods grimly, and Villanelle throws back her head and cackles in abject disgust.

“It’s not funny. It’s gross.”

“It is really gross. I’m laughing as a coping mechanism.” Shaking off any unwanted thoughts of crusty old men fucking, Villanelle squints down at the ticket she’s holding. “So what is this movie we’re seeing? ‘Demons’?”

“Yeah, it’s a re-release of an old one. A horror movie, I think. It actually came out in like, 1985, I think, so I just missed it.”

Villanelle cocks her head thoughtfully to one side. “The horror movies that came out in the 80′s were the best. They were so campy and stupid.”

Mike laughs. “Yeah, I figured it’d be fun.” And then his smirk turns into a more genuine smile. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Villanelle shrugs and takes a sip of her soda. “This is what friends do, right?”

It isn’t as rhetorical a question as it sounds, but Villanelle is pretty sure of the answer, at least. Movie nights are nice, normal things that people do. Even she isn’t compelled to mess this up too badly in the course of only a couple of hours. So her aside, what could possibly go wrong?

They enter the theater together, snacks and drinks in hand, and Villanelle barely pays attention to the woman in the shiny silver mask who hisses “Ow!” as she accidentally cuts the side of her face.

---

Really, it’s no wonder that Mike barely had to bribe her to tag along. Villanelle likes movies. She’s always liked movies. And this one is the perfect combination of campy and gory, so she is comfortably enjoying herself right up until the scene where one of their characters cuts their face on a weird looking demon mask -- and proceeds to begin to turn into a demon themselves.

“You know, this is basically just a zombie movie,” Villanelle leans over to murmur to Mike. “They probably just called it ‘Demons’ because Italians are so Catholic.”

But Mike is busy frowning at the screen, surprisingly unimpressed by the gnarly display of body horror taking place in front of him. “Wasn’t there a lady out in the lobby who cut her face on a mask like that?”

“Was there?” Villanelle raises her eyebrows in surprise. She does vaguely remember it now that Mike has brought it up, but she shrugs. “Probably just part of the immersive experience.”

Teenagers. So easily spooked by movies like these.

“Hey. What the hell happened to Rosemary?” A guy in the row in front of them growls, stoking the fires of Mike’s unease.

“I’m pretty sure that was where she was sitting, too. She’s missing!”

It is a slightly... strange coincidence, but Villanelle only twists around in her seat briefly to make sure they’re not attracting any attention. “She probably just went to the bathroom. Relax.”

“Go check.”

“What?”

“Villanelle, if we’re about to get stuck in the middle of a demonic apocalypse, we’d better get a jump on it.”

Villanelle grimaces in irritation, but reminds herself that Mike has survived the odd supernatural possibly-apocalyptic scenario on occasion before. She needs a refill, anyway. “Fine. But you are coming with me.”

“I can’t go into the girls’ restroom,” Mike protests.

“You can wait outside. Just in case I get turned into a demon, and it’s up to you to warn the rest of the world.” Villanelle gets up and starts inching her way out of the aisle without waiting for an answer. It isn’t long before she hears Mike shuffling behind her, following as she knew he would, ever incapable of resisting a taste of adventure even if it is under completely ridiculous circumstances.

Villanelle never would have imagined she’d have anything in common with Mike Wheeler, of all people. But sometimes she thinks he’s been through so much that at the end of the day - even if he hasn’t yet admitted it to himself - he wouldn’t ever be able to settle for a normal life again either. So in that way, they are the same.

“Arm yourself,” Villanelle tells him as they reach the lobby, only half-joking. She gets a flat look in return, but then Mike does pick up a broom a janitor left propped up against the side of the wall, raising his eyebrows at her as if to say ‘happy?’

Villanelle gives him a cheeky little thumbs up before she steps into the women’s restroom. There is no need for her to arm herself, because - as always - she has come prepared, a knife strapped to her ankle, a tiny hand-sized pistol tucked into her jacket lining.

(She’s not the kind of person who drops ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ into her internal monologue without actually preparing for the worst that could happen. She isn’t stupid.)

But when she steps into restroom, everything seems calm, almost to her vague disappointment. What has she become, if she is very nearly craving the unlikely possibility of demonic mass hysteria? She misses the good old, simple days. When she was content to get her adrenaline rush by slashing a few throats, and never stretched her imagination unreasonable lengths beyond that.

There is a woman standing in front of one of the sink mirrors. Villanelle assumes she must be Rosemary, if the way she is dabbing at her face is any indication. The cut on the side of her cheek looks normal, and Villanelle decides she’ll just get a quick closer look before delivering the all-clear to Mike.

“Do you need a band-aid for that?” Villanelle asks, sidling up and quickly slipping into Girl Talk Mode. “I think I have one in my purse...”

“That’d be great,” Rosemary says with a relieved smile, and now that Villanelle is closer she notices... there’s an unusual amount of blood dripping down her jaw, for a wound that seems comparatively shallow. “It’s weird, I just can’t get it to stop bleeding.”

Fortunately, Villanelle hadn’t been bluffing, and really does have a bandage in her purse. She fishes it out and offers it to the other woman, watching closely as Rosemary uses it to cover the wound and...

...Within seconds, it bleeds right through.

Okay. That is definitely not normal.

“Mike?” Villanelle calls back out into the lobby. “I thiiink we have a problem.”

“What’s happening?” Mike calls back to her, but Villanelle doesn’t answer him right away. She’s too busy watching in growing, morbid fascination and disgust as the wound starts to pulse and throb, like there is something under Rosemary’s skin burrowing its way to the surface to get out.

“Mike,” she calls more insistently.

“What! I can’t come in there!”

“Oh my god, it’s not like there is a force field, or something --” But Villanelle’s retort breaks off into a horrified shriek as the wound on the side of Rosemary’s face explodes.

“Villanelle!”

This time, throwing all caution to the winds and evidently deciding that his dignity is not as important as Villanelle’s life, Mike comes rushing into the restroom just as Villanelle is flattening herself against the wall to avoid the worst of the oozing... pus... no, she does not want to even describe it internally.

“What’s happening to her?! Is she --”

Rosemary’s screams turn feral, and Villanelle has to interrupt Mike’s question to pull him out of the way as she slashes at him with... are those claws?

“It’s the movie! I fucking told you it was just like the movie!” Mike shouts. Rosemary rounds on them again with wild, animalistic yellow eyes, and Mike... promptly smacks her right in the face with the broom handle. Her neck snaps back at an unnatural angle.

“Ha!” Villanelle laughs, recovering in the midst of all this chaos. “Nice hit.”

“Thanks. Wait, I mean -- what do we do?!”

“Run?” Villanelle guesses, unsure if there is any way to actually kill this thing. Rosemary’s seems to be snapping her neck back to its normal position, and neither of them stayed in the theater long enough to know if the demons had any significant weaknesses.

Mike spares a moment to shoot her a frantic look. “But she’ll get out and spread the virus to other people!”

That sounds like their problem, Villanelle wants to say, although she supposes she can easily enough see how a supernatural pandemic might eventually become her problem as well.

Rosemary lets out an unearthly snarl and lunges forward again. It is not so much the threat of being scratched and turned, or at least dismembered, that makes Villanelle react (although that alone is obviously enough) -- as does the sight of her wide, gaping jaws. And all that slimy pus stuff she’s drooling everywhere.

“That is fucking disgusting,” Villanelle tells her, before pulling out her pistol and firing three close range shots into the woman’s head.

It... works. Effectively. As one might expect.

Rosemary stumbles back and falls into a pool of her own blood, twitching unpleasantly in what seems to be a round of dying spasms. Villanelle fires one more head shot, just to make sure.

“O-okay. I think you got her.” Mike sounds slightly shaken, and it’s only then that she remembers that she just brutally shot a person right in front of him. Then again, she is not really sure Rosemary counted as a ‘person’ at time time. Never the less, Villanelle lowers her gun and turns so that she’s at least half-obscuring Mike’s view of the body.

“That was kind of easy.” She scrunches her nose up a bit.

Mike takes another steadying breath, but he’s doing a better job of composing himself than she might have expected. “...Yeah. Uh. I think we maybe just... prevented an apocalypse?”

Villanelle considers that for a couple of seconds. It almost feels kind of anticlimactic. “Huh,” she finally says with a shrug. “Guess I will add it to my resume. Stop it at patient zero, that’s what I always say.” Or what she would always say, if she’d ever been involved in any humanity-threatening spread of disease before now.

“Is now a good time to say ‘I told you so?’” Mike quips in return, and Villanelle gives him a passive-aggressive (but also sort of playful) shoulder check as she passes on her way to the restroom’s exit.

“I guess we call the police. And they can call in Hazmat people to clean up the body, or something.” Already, she’s kind of wondering how exactly they’re going to explain the weird, meta experience of watching a movie and then having that movie repeat itself in real life. Then again, it’s probably par for the course for the cops around here, by now.

“Wait,” Mike says suddenly. “What about the mask?”

Ah. He’s right, she realizes, following his gaze over to the lobby display where the mask still sits. The apparent source of the virus, if the movie lore holds up.

“Well, we have gotten this far by being genre savvy, so I don’t think we should have it over to the police,” she muses.

“Yeah, no way. One of them’ll cut themselves while they’re joking around, or something, and infect the whole police station. Always happens.”

“So... we keep it?” Villanelle tries to run through some other, smarter possibilities in her head. “Burn it? Bury it? Throw it into a volcano? We could do that. There’s one out in the Prehistoric Wilds.”

Mike starts to grin, and Villanelle squints at him suspiciously. “What is so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “Just... the volcano thing. It’s just like in Lord of the Rings.”

Villanelle pulls up short as their very first conversation comes ebbing back to her. Unexpectedly, what accompanies it is a trace of amused warmth. And she grins back at him briefly. “Guess we’ve come full circle.”

“We really have.”

Villanelle makes a note to get out of there before he remembers to make a communism joke.

#im not going to spoil what the concept of this fic actually is but when you read it #ask yourself: how could i not?#fic #christmas gifts #OH ALSO I ALMOST FORGOT #body horror cw #?????

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boldlygowriting · 5 years

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Book Review #1: Aurora Rising

Aurora Rising published in April of 2019 is the first book in the Aurora Cycle series by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff is a sci-fi adventure. The second book of the series is set to be published in 2020. Kristoff describes the book as a “Breakfast Club meets Guardians of the Galaxy YA sci-fi, action, adventure thing.”

Synopsis: The story starts with Aurora Academy Goldenboy, Tyler Jones, the day before the Draft. Since our best boy is well...best boy at this space-bound military academy, he gets first pick of his future space crew. Or he would’ve if he hadn’t gone out in space to calm his nerves and ended up rescuing a girl named Aurora who’s been cryogenically frozen for over 200 years.

Bestboy Jones misses the Draft and ends up with whoever is left over ie. the people no one wants. A space elf with anger management issues, a socially inept, trigger happy genius, and an alien techwiz with a physical disability who doesn’t know how to shut up--known as Kal, Zila and Finian respectively.

Bestboy Jones also has his twin sister, Scarlet, and his best friend, Cat, who definitely doesn’t have a crush on him. (Books words, not mine, okay). Who are also especially good at their respective jobs as diplomat and pilot.

Aurora sneaks aboard their ship during their first mission, murders and a cryptic message from the higher-ups set them up for a journey across the galaxy. The fate of Aurora and the rest of the worlds now in their quirky, all-to-capable hands.

A lot is going on with this book and this is my first book review in this format so bear with me.

The Pros

It’s fun. This book is really fun. Like watching Guardians of the Galaxy, you can have a good, pretty stress-free read of this book with little trouble. While reading this I found myself enjoying the adventure aspect of it, and I think they do it really well.

Easy to follow. The book is action-packed that’s more interested in what’s happening than explaining all of the confusing lore that some sci-fi and fantasy novels can fall into. It’s not bogged down by a lot of space jargon and takes the time to explain the parts that a reader wouldn’t immediately understand. I appreciated that it kept things simple.

Diversity*. Kristoff assured there would be diversity race-wise and in sexual orientation. Which is true. Aurora is half-Irish and half-Asian, Zila is black, and Finian has a physical disability and is either bisexual or pansexual (I’m not exactly sure. I mean, he is an alien so like I don’t know...look, all I know is I’m bi and black, I’ll take the representation where I can get it.).

The humor*. Think about it, 7 eighteen-year-olds stuck on a spaceship together. It’d be impossible for there not to be humor and banter between them. Not all the jokes land and there’s more than enough of nudging and winking in the prose, but there are definitely some chuckle-worthy moments. They also use humor really well when it comes to breaking up tense and heavy moments even if they don’t entirely land.

The romantic subplot. I can’t say who obviously, but they’re pretty cute together. It was cliche, but, I think that by the end it was genuinely sweet and I appreciated the way they went about it by the end. It’ll definitely be expanded on in the following books and that’s what I like the most because it really is a subplot and they’re taking their time with it like a realistic crush turn relationship.

There are some things genuinely done well in this book that made me almost enjoy it, but for every action, there’s an opposite action. Starting off the Cons is my biggest issue with this book.

The Cons

The characters. I’m sure you could tell by my cheeky synopsis, I’m not exactly a huge fan of all the characters. In fact, I downright hated one. (Despite calling Tyler Bestboy all the time, no, it was not him. I just wanted to clarify that).

I could honestly break down every character and talk about why I did or didn’t like them, but I think that’s getting too far into biased opinion. However, even for the ones I did like, they were still flawed...and not in the fun way.

The characters are a huge weak point, part of that reason is that they’re all pretty flat. Flat, in this case, doesn’t exactly mean boring. A flat character is one that stays relatively the same from the beginning of the book to the end, and all seven of the protagonists are pretty flat. Even if it’s the first book of the series, knowing there’s time to develop characters, all seven protagonists shouldn’t be relatively the same by the end.

There’s a lot of potential in most of them, but the time for their development is often rushed by and cut off by action. There are some real, genuine moments, but they mean very little in the overall scheme of things, especially when the team that’s supposed to be a group of misfits never feels like a group of misfits.

The team is played up as a group of outcasts (or half outcasts), but they never feel like it. Both those movies the author compared the book to have a moment where they genuinely bond. There’s no point where the squad bond as a group beyond a few shared chuckles in between intense moments.

The skirmishes and arguments between them don’t really go anywhere and no one’s feelings are genuinely hurt for longer than a few pages, so when they already work pretty well together, I barely noticed any changes in their dynamic. I hope in the future books the authors expand on the group dynamic and the characters themselves because they could be really interesting, if I’m honest.

Most of them had a glimmer of something, but a glimmer wasn’t enough to keep me from realizing they’re just semi-archetypal shells.

This is a side note: this book switches the POV between the seven characters, and honestly, you can’t really tell much of a difference between who’s speaking. If switching POVs is not your bag, I wouldn’t recommend this book for you.

The humor. You know, it’s not so much the humor itself that’s a problem. The humor itself s pretty juvenile, but they’re 18 years old and I have a filthy, sarcastic mind so if you can stand a million sex jokes you’ll be fine. If not then you’re probably not gonna laugh much. The problem with the humor comes in the writing. There’s a lot of ‘winking and nudging’ involved. Finian (alien/techwiz/ can’t shut up), delivers a good portion of the jokes and after he says something, either he, the narrator or another character will comment on it.

I once read when it comes to comedy, a joke isn’t funny if you have to draw attention to it. And if this is your kind of humor it is funny, but a lot of jokes aren’t allowed to stand on their own...making them, well, not funny.

The plot and pacing. I’m not going to write a whole lot about the plot, partially to avoid spoilers. Tthe more I think about this book, the more I realize it’s a straighforward space adventure. The plot is simple because the adventure is what matters, but the fast pace of the book, while engaging, doesn’t spend a lot of time on it. One thing happens, then the next thing happens, and so on.

At one point, I almost got the sense that quiet moments couldn’t last too long without another plot piece falling into place or something terrible would happen. The squad never flounders long despite how often they talk about how in over their head they are and how dangerous everything is.

That might be a whole other gripe, but oh well.

I said it was fun and it was easy to follow, but that’s probably because everything happens so quickly you aren’t allowed to think for very long.

The pacing and plot go hand-in-hand because one bowls over the other and you get what I call the ‘you can infere events.’

These are events that you can infere obviously. In this case, they acquire a lot of items without actually showing how. I’m all for getting to the good stuff, but slowing down to show some things could’ve been a chance to expand on things like worldbuilding and the characters.

The worldbuilding. We’re getting into the minor stuff now if I’m being honest, but it’s a sci-fi story so I felt I couldn’t not write about the worldbuilding, which is a little lackluster. I’m pretty sure one of the planets is a Valerian rip-off. (I know that was harsh).

Diversity. I debated talking about this too. I don’t know anything about the authors but I know readers say they’ve been inclusive in the past. I think they were here too, and maybe I’m spoiled or asking for too much, but I have to get some things off my chest.

First, Zila.

I went back and forth on this a lot, but she kind of suffers from Princess and the Frog syndrome. Essentially, she’s a POC or LGBTQ+ character who is put into the story, but they either a.) don’t matter too much to the story or b.) are basically invisible.

I went back and forth on this because Zila is quiet. She doesn’t speak a lot, she’s an observer. Sometimes I forgot she was in the book. I think having her be quiet and observant works in other character’s POV because no one really understands her. In her own POV it should be a different story.

They opened that door so I have to comment on it. The chapters in her POV are significantly shorter than every other character. If her thoughts aren’t necessary to the story, why have them in there? It felt like she was there because they needed another warm body to advance the plot. I hope in book 2 she gets more than what she got.

Second, the representation. Period.

Tyler, Scarlet and Cat are the three members of the squad that stick together because they have a close bond. They’re not the misfits in this group. They’re also all white and presumably heterosexual as of this book. Zila, Finian and Kal are the outcasts of the group. Having the black girl, non-heterosexual alien with a physical disability, and the space elf with anger managment issues be the weirdos that the golden trio are saddled with doesn’t exactly read well on paper (pun intended).

Third, queerbaiting?

Don’t get your hopes up, I didn’t add the question mark because I think this might change. I added it as a Disclaimer: I’m not the authority on all things rainbow and beyond. Very few things raise my hackles when it comes to media and represenation even though there’s a lot that probably should.

That being said, this might jimmy some people’s johns so I thought I might as well mention it.

We’ve all heard the “why don’t you two just kiss and get it over with line,” (yes, the book uses this line) and I’m kind of over it unless it actually ends in a relationship. Just a warning there kiss between two people of the same gender, and that line was directed at them but I can assure you it’s not going anywhere, it was a one off, and it wasn’t serious. After so much BS from other books, movies and TV shows, I know that’s enough to piss some people off, and if I mentioned Zila and the representation, I had to mention this.

That was weird. So much time is spent making sure you know how attractive every single main character is. Like...a lot. I was genuinely wondering if this would end with some kind of orgy thing. No matter what POV it’s in everyone was drop dead gorgeous with killer dimples and voices like melted chocolate and luxurious push-up bras.

Consensus:

I found this book on the 7th floor of my university library. Why they have a random YA space romp from 2019 up there, who knows? The important question is: Do I regret picking it up?

Well…No and yes.

Let’s just say I’m glad I didn’t shell out the $18.99 plus tax for it. (I’m a broke college student, okay? I get anxious spending $15)

Like I said, I had fun reading this. I laughed. It had me turning pages faster than Aurora can say “Holy cake!”However, this book isn’t clever and it doesn’t have a whole lot of heart, not all books do, but to be a space adventure with misfit characters...if you want to keep people engaged, maybe it should?

Everything is sacrificed for the execution of this quick-paced, adventurous romp. The worldbuilding and lore, the characters, the plot, everything. All of it was obliterated for something quick and momentarily entertaining.

If a quick, substanceless adventure is what you’re looking for (and there’s nothing wrong with that, not every book has to be a nail-biting, bloodbath), you’ll definitely find it in this book.

If you’re looking for a book that’s going to affect you and make you feel like you’re part of “the squad,” you should probably look elsewhere.

TLDR:

Pros:

It’s fun

Easy to follow

The humor*

The diversity*

The romantic subplot

Cons:

The characters

The plot and pacing

The worldbuilding

The humor*

The diversity*

Overall rating: 5.5/10.

#aurora rising #book review #bookblr #goodreads #ya novel review #diversity #character with a disability #woc in science #amie kaufman #jay kristoff

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