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monstersandmaw · 3 years

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Male vampire x male character - Part Two (nsfw) (Halloween ‘surprise’ Patreon story).

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I'm really pleased that you and my Patrons enjoyed the first part, and that folks were keen for more. I’ve had more interaction with this post on Patreon than many of the others, which is surprising given how mlm stories are usually much less in demand than m/f ones. Thanks for that!

Anyway, here's more of our favourite oblivious dork Alec and his obviously-not-a-vampire crush... Part Three is on the way too (tomorrow), despite this having been planned as a quick porn-without-plot one-shot, as it were. Oh well?!

Hope you enjoy.

Part One

After his initial - admittedly strange - meetings with Sebastien, Alec didn’t see him on campus at all for the rest of the week, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Yes, the guy had been a bit of a pompous arsehole in the library, but he’d made up for it by coming to the art room and apologising, engaging him in conversation — even if that conversation had been slightly… odd? — and being so god-damn-fucking beautiful too.

He overheard his students gossiping about ‘Dr. Dulac’ earlier that afternoon while they all carved the pumpkins he’d bought for them at the local supermarket, and it seemed that the general consensus was that Sebastien was single, unfailingly polite (even in the face of Janette Hilton, the English Department’s longest-serving and least sympathetic lecturers), hotter than any celebrity you cared to name, and a specialist in the poets of the First World War like Sassoon and Brooke, among other more esoteric interests.

After an hour of clock-watching in his tiny little office in the Art Department on Friday, he abandoned all hope of concentrating on his last few bits of admin, and shut down his laptop. After clearing up yet more pumpkin seeds that he’d somehow missed on the last two sweeps he’d done of the studio, he stepped outside, never wanting to see another bloody thing again. Too bad he had a whole bloody cardboard box of them waiting to go into the boot of Kay’s car for her party that night. Still, he was almost sinfully proud of the carvings he’d done on them. One was decorated the whole way around with the foliate style engravings usually reserved for the steel on antique guns, with different depths to create the highlights and shadows, and another particularly spherical one had been cut away in squares to resemble the Death Star.

The October air outside bit into his lungs as he drew a deep breath - the spicy, fragrantly damp scents of autumn filling his nose - and his eye was drawn to the twinkling lights of the little coffee cart that still lingered in the park, selling tea, coffee, and hot chocolate to chilly students leaving the university campus for the night. With a black coffee for himself in one hand, he made his way to the Engineering Department, warily holding another frothy concoction in his other. It was apparently called a ‘London fog’ and it smelled of earl grey tea and lavender. He thought it sounded (and smelled) disgusting, but Kay perked right up when he deposited it on her desk five minutes later.

“Bless you, Alec Twayblade,” she grinned, taking the plastic lid off and inhaling it like it was the best thing she’d ever smelled. “Oh my god. How can you not like this?” she said after taking a huge gulp and moaning obscenely.

Alec didn’t bother to reply, his eye-roll speaking volumes anyway. They’d had this discussion so many times that they were both probably playing it out silently in their heads right that second. When Kay glanced up and saw that he certainly was, she snorted and grinned. “I love you, Alec,” she laughed. “You’re still coming tonight?”

“Against my better judgement,” he growled, leaning his weight on her desk and folding his arms across his battered, blue cable knit sweater. He had a huge daub of yellow paint on one elbow from that morning, and a small burn hole in the bottom from a failed attempt at pyrography a few years ago. It was the most comfortable jumper he owned, and he would probably wear it until it unravelled around him.

“You’re still not going to wear a costume, are you?” she added as she stood, pouting.

He shook his head. “I draw the line at that.”

“But you’d be so good making one!” she countered. “You helped me with that bat costume when we were at high school… Don’t you remember how fucking awesome it was?”

“I do,” he chuckled. “But I’m not going to wear one myself.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Too much attention, huh?” she said softly. “Well, you know you’ll stand out more if you’re not wearing one tonight…?”

He shrugged. Honestly, he just couldn’t be bothered to dress up. Halloween had rather lost its shine for him anyway. “Not if I hide in the kitchen all night and make too-strong cocktails for everyone,” he said, flashing her his most roguish grin. “Plus, I spent much of today carving pumpkins with nattering eighteen year olds who are far too old to be carving pumpkins on academic time, but —”

“— you’re an awesome teacher who understands the need to let off some steam on the holidays,” she interjected. “Plus, it’s good practice anyway… working with a new medium…”

He allowed his lips to pinch upwards into a tiny smirk and let her have that one. “It’s nice to see them having fun,” was all he said.

An hour or so later, just as he arranged the last of the pumpkins down the garden path of Kay's Victorian semi-detached house, a voice murmured from behind him, “I can see the hand of a master at work in these carvings.”

Not having heard anyone approaching, Alec jumped, cursed, and dropped the pumpkin - thankfully with the candle still unlit. It rolled in a semicircle until a black boot gently stopped it, and a familiar face dipped into view as the owner of the boot bent to pick it up. To his surprise, it was Sebastien, and he was in costume. Probably anyway. Hopefully? Fuck. Alec’s brain stalled at the sight of him.

His eyes raked up Sebastien’s body and his jaw went quite literally slack.

The slender man was wearing thigh-high boots and leather pants so tight they had to have been spray-painted on, into which was tucked a loose, old-fashioned, white shirt with a good bit of flounce at the collar. “Holy shit,” he whispered, and Sebastien chuckled softly, a low, amused sound in the back of his throat.

“You recognise the costume?” he asked, seeming innocently amused. The long, dark coat, accented with gold brocade and bright gold buttons, opened briefly in a soft gust of wind that made the lit pumpkins flicker and lifted his loose, silver-white hair back for a breath as well.

“I…” he swallowed. “Uh, you’re Alucard,” he croaked. “From the Castlevania games…” A wry incline of Sebastien’s head told him he was correct, and then Alec blurted stupidly, “Shouldn’t you be shirtless though?”

Sebastien’s smile grew from pleased to deeply amused, his eyes glittering, and it was only then that Alec noticed the contacts burning a bright gold in his eyes and, as his lips peeled back and Sebastien began to laugh, he saw long, tapering, white canines befitting a vampire costume. “It’s a little cold for that, don’t you think?” Sebastien asked, still laughing quietly as Alec flushed crimson.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “I know. I just… forget it.”

“Where do you want it?” Sebastien asked, and Alec’s poor brain went blank.

“What?”

“The pumpkin,” Sebastien deadpanned and Alec’s poor, blank brain melted out of his ears with embarrassment.

“Uh… there’s fine,” he said, pointing at the little wrought-iron garden gate.

Sebastien placed the pumpkin down on the flagstone path so that the carved graveyard scene glimmered and flickered with appropriate spookiness, visible to anyone approaching along the quiet, suburban street. Enormous London plane trees stood sentry every few paces, heaving up the tarmac pavement with their roots, like a sleeper shifting a blanket with a restless turn, and sheltering the cars snuggled and parked beneath them. A carpet of leaves clung to the gutter in a long, golden line, melting into nothing in places in the glittering puddles. It would have been beautiful, had Alec not been faced with quite literally the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.

“Am I early then?” Sebastien asked, dusting off his palms and turning back to face Alec, who had barely managed to make his legs work long enough to stand up straight again.

He shook his head. “No. Henry’s inside already,” he said, running his fingers through his scruffy black hair. “With Rachel and Alison. I just forgot to put the pumpkins out earlier.”

“No costume?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Too bad,” Sebastien said, eyeing the front door. The contacts were really creepy, shifting in the light that spilled down the stairs as the front door suddenly opened and Kay stepped out before he could worry that he’d been the only one to dress up. He could probably brush it off anyway, Alec supposed, and tried not to envy the man’s quiet confidence.

Silhouetted starkly against the hall light, with her high ‘Dracula’ collar on prominent display, Kay shrieked with glee and clapped her hands when she saw Sebastien. Apparently the two of them had been getting along rather well, while Alec had sequestered himself away in the Art Department like an ascetic.

“Bastien! You look amazing oh my god!” she blurted, rushing forwards a step or two before halting abruptly. “Wait, does that make me your father for the evening?” she cackled. “Wow, your teeth are really good! Mine wouldn't stay in for more than a few minutes…”

Sebastien’s gold eyes flickered sideways to Alec but it happened so briefly that he almost missed it. “Custom made a long time ago,” was all he said. “Shall we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Yes, of course, come on in,” she said, waving them all inside, Sebastien first. As Alec passed her last, she slapped him hard on the backside in rebuke and hissed, “Told you you should have worn a costume! You look like a big dumbo!”

“No different from any other night,” he quipped back, and she growled something indistinct at him. Perhaps a werewolf costume would have suited her better. “You could have told me you’d invited Dulac…”

“Why?” she retorted. “So you could suddenly decide that an evening moping alone with your PS4 playing Rocket League with strangers was more appealing? No fucking chance. Get inside. Sebastien’s right; I’m freezing my tits off.”

The distant murmur of voices in the living room made him veer off instinctively into the kitchen, and while they began to watch some old Hammer horror film, he made drinks. That, at least, he was good at.

Entering a while later, he found that Sebastien was seated on the sofa beside Henry, who wore an enormously fluffy wolfman costume - mostly a repurposed Chewbacca onesie with a latex wolf mask. He’d pushed the mask up onto his head in order to eat the Halloween themed nibbles on the coffee table, and the effect rendered him entirely ridiculous. Another reason not to wear a costume: it’s impractical, and gets in the way, and washing ketchup out of matted fake fur is a nightmare. Alison and Rachel sat practically in each other’s laps, one a zombie and the other a ghost, both squeezed into one groaning old armchair.

After half an hour of Christopher Lee’s admittedly creepy Dracula, Alec slid from his seat at the periphery, and ducked out again into the kitchen. Straightening from fishing a beer from the back of the fridge, he heard the soft click of the door and turned to find Sebastien standing there.

“Get bored with late 1950’s horror too?” Alec asked. “Beer?”

Sebastien inclined his head in a way that said he wasn’t a beer drinker and held up his almost-empty wineglass as an excuse as he moved a little closer. “If you don’t like cheesy horror films, and you don’t seem to like Halloween either, I wonder why you came at all tonight?”

“For Kay,” he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She loves this shit.”

At that, Sebastien paused, a delicate smile on his face. In the soft glow of the under-cupboard lighting, his tanned skin seemed to shimmer, and Alec wondered fleetingly if he’d put some kind of glittery body powder on. Next, he wondered what on earth Sebastien was doing in here with him, looking at him like that.

“You are a good friend,” Sebastien said quietly, seeming perhaps a little sad around the edges.

“She’s done more than her fair share of looking after me,” Alec sighed knowingly. “Not that I’m doing it because I owe her,” he added, twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning back against the counter to drink deeply from it. As the malty froth washed over his tongue, he felt eyes on him and looked over at the other man.

Sebastien tilted his head slightly to the side, the false golden light in his eyes making him look like a cat in the dark. “You said she was trying to set you up with someone…”

Alec snorted, nearly shooting beer out of his nose. “Yeah. Well, she seems to think a good fuck will sort my mood out.”

“But you think otherwise?”

“You offering?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig and feeling uncharacteristically bold, though absolutely not expecting the answer he got.

“Perhaps.”

His eyebrows shot up and this time he did cough a little. “You can’t be serious.”

“You think someone who looks like me is entirely straight?” he asked with a wry smile, and Alec had to hand it to him. Not many men he knew could pull of long, luscious, white-blond hair like that, or would have the confidence to wear fucking thigh-high boots and whisper-tight leather pants…

“Still… you don’t really know me… That’s all I meant…”

“Doesn't mean one couldn’t engage in — how did you call it? — ‘a good fuck’. Not that I’m averse to getting to know you better, before or after.”

Alec swallowed another enormous gulp of frothing beer and blinked. “You’re serious?”

With a melodramatic smile that revealed his vampire teeth clearly, ‘Alucard’ purred, “Deadly.”

And Alec burst out laughing. The spell was shattered and the two men shared the remnants of their drinks and their laughter together before Alec sighed. “Your place or mine?”

At that, Sebastien seemed to falter, as if he hadn’t thought through to that point. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I assume yours would be alright?”

Alec shrugged. “Sure, if you don’t mind smacking your head on the ceiling and being able to touch two opposite walls at the same time…”

Sebastien’s lips hitched into another wry smile. “I’ve fucked in tighter spaces, I’m sure.”

“You know what?” Alec said as he rinsed out the beer bottle at the sink and half-turned to look at the other man over his shoulder. “You’re absolutely not what I expected.”

“Nor were you,” he shot back, still smirking. “And it’s been a while since I was assaulted by someone in a library.”

“Bring back happy memories, did it?” he snorted.

“Not exactly,” Sebastien murmured, and Alec realised he hadn’t actually been joking. “But I must confess that — despite my behaviour — I was pleasantly surprised by the sight of you when you rounded that bookshelf…”

Turning, Alec approached him cautiously. If he was genuinely serious about his proposal, Alec would find out now. “Pleased enough to seek me out afterwards…” he said, raising his eyebrows. He couldn’t do that ‘one brow at a time’ thing that Sebastien could, but it seemed to get his tone across all the same.

Unusually for Alec, Sebastien had an inch or two on him in height, and as Alec paused in front of him, close enough to catch the faintest hint of a woody cologne, the man angled his face just perfectly for the light to dance along his high cheekbones. Fuck, he was exquisite. The urge to kiss him rose in Alec; to feel his lips against his own, to have those elegant hands scrunch his hair…

As if reading his mind, Sebastien slowly, carefully, raised his right hand and brought his index finger to Alec’s chin, tilting it upwards just a fraction with the lightest pressure. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much, and it left Alec breathless. Again. Panting slightly, he parted his lips and then swallowed thickly.

Sebastien’s eyes darted instantly to the motion of his throat and for a second, Alec could have sworn he saw a vibrant red light reflected in his eyes. Sensing his moment of hesitation, of tension, Sebastian frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alec breathed. “I thought your eyes went red but it must have been a car on the street outside or something.”

“Indeed,” he murmured, but then blinked rapidly. “Do you still wish to continue this?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Don't stop now. His whole body was thrumming in a way it hadn’t ever before with casual encounters. He felt alive for the first time in months.

Sebastien stepped back, turning his face away a little more. “Should we make our excuses…?”

Alec shook his head. “Nah, Kay will know what’s going on anyway, and I don’t want to face her smug looks until tomorrow at the least.”

With a softly amused chuckle, Sebastien stepped back and allowed Alec to leave the room first. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as the other man followed behind, but he didn't turn around or look at him until they were outside on the main street.

“It’s a bit of a walk…” Alec said, only realising then how long the walk would be. “I’m way over on the other side of town by the station…”

The continuing intensity of Sebastien’s scrutiny was beginning to shift from a turn-on to just marginally unnerving, but he told himself that an esteemed professor at one of the country’s finest universities, with more letters after his name than anyone his age had a right to possess, was unlikely to be truly dangerous for a one-night stand… right? There was something about the way he stared at Alec — an unmistakable hunger in his eyes — that made his skin prickle and his heartbeat jump instinctively. Like a deer before the gaze of a tiger, he was entranced.

Unexpectedly, Sebastien’s easy stride slowed at the brick gateway to a small, gravel park that sat between an old church and a chemist, the latter closed at this time of night. “May I kiss you?” he breathed, still gazing at him unblinkingly, as though Alec were the pretty one in this equation, not him.

Alec couldn’t help grinning. The way Sebastien’s eyes bored into him then drove all thought of threat and fear from his mind, and he nodded.

The man’s hands were chilly from the night air, but the moment they cupped his jaw and drew Alec toward him, he forgot about that. He forgot about everything at the meeting of their lips. Sebastien began tentatively, merely brushing their lips together, but when his golden eyes fluttered closed, he deepened the gesture, tongue just begging entrance, teasing him before withdrawing, retreating and returning.

Searing want shot down Alec’s spine and he arched into Sebastien’s taller body, hips seeking contact through his jeans. He moaned, deep and guttural, and it seemed to awaken something in Sebastien, because the man grabbed hold of the back of Alec’s hair and pulled his head slightly to one side to begin to kiss along his jawline, down to wards his neck. For a heartbeat, Sebastien froze there, nose pressed to his rabbiting pulse point, his teeth just grazing skin, before he exhaled harshly and stepped back. “We shouldn’t get carried away,” was all he whispered, stepping slightly out of Alec’s dazed field of view. “My place is nearer though.”

“Ok,” Alec said, still reeling. “Sure.”

When they reached the apartment building, his steps faltered in amazement. “You live… here?”

A slight flush seemed to warm Sebastien’s cheeks as he stepped up to the main doorway, only to have it opened from the other side by a man in livery. “Good evening, Monsieur Dulac,” said the friendly doorman instantly.

“Good evening,” he replied. “This is my friend, Alec Twayblade.”

It was impossible for the doorman not to realise that his ‘friend, Alec Twayblade’ was going to be a little more than that for the night, but he never let a flicker of judgement pass across his face. From the concierge desk - Sebastien’s building had a fucking concierge desk too - another man looked up and wished them both a good evening as they headed for the lifts.

“Does the English department also sell diamonds or drugs or something? How the fuck can you afford a place like this on a lecturer’s salary?” but even as he said it and the doors closed with a soft chime, he realised the truth of it. Sebastien’s aristocratic features and bearing were not merely a persona. They were truth. He stared up at him while Sebastien turned a key in the lift panel.

“Are you secretly royalty or something?” he whispered, only half joking.

The man shot him an amused look and shook his head, silk-white hair whispering against the rougher wool of his costume coat. “No, of course not, but I do have some inherited wealth.”

Some? “So you don’t actually have to work at the university at all then?”

He made a so-so motion of his head and said, “No, not really, but I genuinely enjoy teaching.”

“Your students certainly seem to enjoy you…”

“You don’t enjoy teaching?” he asked as the numbers on the dial climbed and climbed.

Please don’t say you live in the fucking penthouse too, Alec thought, already suspecting it might be true from the whole ‘special access key’. He glanced at the number pad and saw that the button labelled ‘PH’ was illuminated. Fuck. “Most days I enjoy it,” he admitted. “But I kind of fell into it a while back and just sort of…” he shrugged, “Stuck with it.”

Sebastien asked no more, and the lift finally stopped on the top floor. The doors drew back to reveal an apartment beyond that Alec could only gawp at. It was like something from the set of an Architectural Digest photo shoot. Nothing was out of place in the hardwood floor paradise, with clean, crisp lines and white marble counter tops in the kitchen off to his left, while a comfortable, and yet still clinically modern, sitting area sat to their right. Deep, fluffy rugs dotted that part of the penthouse, and a wide balcony stretched out over the city beyond, complete with a little table and chairs for warmer evenings.

“This place is incredible,” Alec breathed, the reason for his even being here completely forgotten.

Clearly sensing that, Sebastien smiled bashfully and said, “Would you like something to drink?”

Alec cleared his throat and hoped he wasn’t going to be faced with a choice between very expensive wines that he’d never heard of. “Sure… thanks.”

“White, red, beer, or whisky?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen and dumping his ‘Alucard’ coat over the back of a white sofa as he went. Alec’s mouth went dry as he watched the point where his narrow hips met the flowing material of the white shirt. Dear god, an arse like that shouldn’t be… well, it just shouldn’t be. And yet there it was. Clad in leather and looking positively delectable. “Or a soft drink?” he added when Alec remained silent.

Aware of where his gaze had landed, Sebastien halted and looked back over his shoulder, long, loose, naturally straight hair already losing the curls that had been worked into it for the Alucard costume. Definitely not straight, if he owned hair curlers.

“Uh…” Alec said, unsure what the question had even been now.

“I’m going to pour myself a whisky, if that helps…?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sebastien smiled, looking almost endeared by Alec’s inept stuttering. Surely he couldn’t be unused to such a reaction? “Make yourself at home then.”

With a smoky, peat-tinged whisky in a wide, heavy-bottomed tumbler set on his glass coffee table, Alec watched Sebastien turn the gas fire on, and, to his surprise, he came to a halt directly in front of him. Setting his own whisky down on the table with a deliberate, and yet delicate, clunk, Sebastien turned back to him and raked his eyes down Alec’s body in a way that made him flush hot all over. His cock twitched with interest and he tried not to preen under that gaze.

Sebastien’s eyes and teeth were back to normal now, with no hint of the golden contacts or the vampire fangs, and Alec fleetingly assumed that he must have removed them at some point between getting the whisky and appearing in front of him looking like he was about to ravish him. Oh dear god, please let him be about to ravish me, he thought with a big, dumb grin spreading across his face.

Seeing his reaction, Sebastien reached down and knelt facing him on the sofa, running his palm over the already-growing bulge in Alec’s jeans. Alec let out a deep grunt and rocked his hips up into the contact, throwing his head back against the soft, open weave of the white fabric. “Oh fuck,” he hissed.

Sebastien’s fingers found the button of his jeans and deftly undid it, but he paused. “May I?” he asked, and Alec found himself nodding before he’d even worked out what Sebastien wanted.

He found out a moment later, when his jeans were around his ankles and Sebastien was kneeling on the floor between his knees and licking a long stripe up the length of his rapidly hardening cock.

“Oh god,” he panted as the wet heat of Sebastien’s mouth engulfed half of his length and then drew back to leave his wet tip exposed to the slight chill of the apartment air. The contrast stole his breath for a heartbeat, but Sebastien returned his attentions to his cock, gently sucking and working him to full hardness in a matter of minutes.

Pleasure sparked through Alec’s whole body and he strained not to thrust back into Sebastien’s mouth, even as Sebastien took him right to the back of his throat, the tip of Alec’s cock nudging against the silky resistance of his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he chanted as Sebastien’s fingertips just teased and caressed the underside of his balls too, and Sebastien hollowed his cheeks and sucked a little more insistently. “Oh fuck…” Really fucking eloquent here, Alec, he thought vaguely, but one look down at the vision kneeling between his legs and sucking him off drove even that thought from his brain.

The suck and slide of Sebastien’s mouth was incredible, and while he had no idea quite how much time passed, it felt like mere seconds as the heat stoked in him until he could feel the orgasm threatening to crash through him. “I’m… I’m really close…” he gasped as Sebastien moaned against his cock, sending little vibrations thrumming through him and tipping him even closer. The sharp prick of his teeth every now and again was a perfect counterpoint to the slick heat of his mouth, and it was never enough to hurt. Normally Alec wasn’t one for including teeth in this, but with Sebastien, it felt perfect.

Sebastien pulled back just as Alec felt himself beginning to coil up, his lips swollen and glistening from the exertion of bringing him that close, and he smiled. He looked radiant, and Alec’s cock twitched enthusiastically in his hands as he let out a soft whimper. The air was cold and his tip beaded pre-come freely, which Sebastien thumbed away with a surprisingly tender gesture, only to watch as more pearled immediately at his slit. Using just the tip of his tongue, Sebastien lapped at it delicately and Alec’s whole body shuddered.

His thighs shook at the tiny, intense stimulation, with Sebastien's fingers gripping the base of his cock in a tight circle, and he gasped, chest heaving. It was too much and not enough, and as he found his perineum teased as well, he bellowed and trembled. He was half a heartbeat away from coming harder than he could ever remember coming in his life, and Sebastien wasn’t going to let him have it. He roared and ground his teeth, bucking his hips, which made Sebastien laugh softly.

“Alright,” he heard him murmur, before he swallowed him down to the back of his throat again, and Alec shattered with a yell.

When he finally blinked his eyes open, he found that Sebastien had risen and was sitting on the small sofa beside him, whisky in hand, staring openly at him. He didn’t look smug exactly, but there was a quiet satisfaction to his brown eyes that made Alec flush, at which Sebastien’s beautiful lips drew back into a smile. He noted again those slightly larger canines, but they were nothing like the vampire teeth he had worn earlier.

“What do you want?” Alec asked, voice hoarse. God, he sounded wrecked. Had he really shouted so hard he’d made his throat sore?

Sebastien’s dolorous, dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “What do you want?”

“To watch you come,” he said immediately.

“And how would you like me to come?” Sebastien replied, sipping nonchalantly at the golden liquor as if the were discussing what Alec would like Sebastien to wear. As it was, his leather pants were constricting his obvious hard-on in a way that had to be painful for him, and his shirt was open at the neck to reveal delicate collarbones and a glimpse of his beautiful olive skinned chest.

He was an absolute vision. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he blurted in a whisper before he could stop himself, and to his surprise, Sebastien laughed. The sound was bright, delighted, and oddly self-conscious, as if he hadn’t been expecting a compliment like that. “Sorry,” he added, looking away. “Look… if you’ve got condoms, I’m… I’m good to… you know…”

“You want me to fuck you?” Sebastien asked, his gaze sharpening again.

“Yes?”

“’Yes?’ Or ‘yes’…?” Sebastien asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes. But I don't understand your question.”

“Look at me,” Sebastien said.

“Hard not to…” Alec quipped back, still feeling utterly wrung out.

“Most people assume I’m going to be the one taking it…”

Alec’s eyebrows rose as realisation settled. “Oh. And, what, I look like a top?”

Sebastien’s lips twitched. “Conventionally more so than I do, with your rugged looks and the rough shadow around your jaw…”

“So… do you want me to… you know…? Or…” Fuck, he felt like a teenager again, struggling to articulate himself and not get his sentences in a tangle while this breathtaking creature just sat there and watched him make an idiot out of himself.

“I very much want to fuck you,” Sebastien said at last. “If you’d like that as well.”

“Yes,” he said instantly.

Sebastien set down his glass and rose in a single, elegant motion, and then held his hand out to Alec.

His skin was still cool, especially next to Alec’s searing body, and his hold was steady as Alec heaved himself to his feet and allowed himself to be alternately tugged and kissed into the bedroom.

___

Part Three

Behold, plot has appeared to go with the Halloween porn I had planned. Alec’s family will come up in the next chapter.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#vampire #male vampire #male vampire x human #exophilia #vampire boyfriend #male vampire x male human #male monster #mlm #mlm exophilia

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narrators-journal · 3 years

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Vampiric lust

This one’s extra ✨ spicy ✨ because I had some fun with the scenario. Also, is this likely gonna become an AU like Cat and Mouse? Likely lol.

CW: Somnophilia, vampires, some of the stuff might come off as super dark?

Vampires weren't known for getting attached to humans often, but it wasn't insane for it to happen. Though, most times said attachments were food related, as in the vampire would keep an eye on or keep a human around to repeatedly feed on them, Stanley Snyder wasn't trailing his chosen favorite for food exactly. No, the tall vampire was so interested in this one particular man for a few reasons, one of the strongest being that he was highly, highly attracted to him. It was true, Stan had his pick of men to sate his sexual needs, but few provided the thrill and challenge that Xeno Wingfield gave him. No, somehow the pale, deceptively-weak-looking, college-grad-turned-monster-hunter had drawn his attention and kept it for a year and a half at this point, a feat no other human he'd favored had managed. Usually, Stan would get bored of whatever human he'd decided to follow around within a month, but Xeno was interesting. He was a monster hunter, so of course he never quite feared the vampire, but more than that, he was openly hostile to him, something not many people had the balls to be. However, he wasn't keen on outright attacking the blonde, so it became a bit of an entertaining game for Stan to harass, flirt, and tease the college graduate until he got so annoyed that he was basically shrieking at him with creative threats. However, such an attachment came with an issue after a while. Not because of food, the vampire made sure to eat properly, but there were a few nights where his last remaining human urge reared its ugly head. On those nights, he mostly had to leave his usual spot in the hunter's yard and attempt to repress that last carnal urge so he didn't lose his mind and ruin his plans for his and Xeno's relationship, but it was a temporary fix to a festering, chronic issue. Tonight was a perfect example of the times he'd usually slink off to his own home and wait out the small, evil voice in his head, but this time he couldn't get away fast enough before things went downhill. Stan had been preparing to leave the hunter's yard as the dark voice in his head began demanding he just take his prey by any means necessary, demanding for him to finally fully sate the icky burn in his loins for intimate companionship, but than Senku decided to talk to him. Which, wasn't uncommon, the leek-haired apprentice-monster-hunter was a great source of intel on his mentor since he and the pale, cranky man didn't exactly get along, but sadly for the blonde's restraint, he was feeling extra spiteful tonight. So, that's how the handsome vampire got permission to enter their shared home. Alright, cool, I can now physically enter his house. Exploring it should definitely wait for a different night. The rational side of his brain told him. Or, I could go in tonight, while Senku's away, and scope the place out and maybe see what Xeno sleeps in. That second voice offered, an offer he ended up taking on an impulse. Usually, Stan had impeccable control of his instincts with only minor slips, but the sight of the hunter he'd been so attracted to so vulnerable before him did things to his predator side. There he laid before him, the man who'd shown the tall, well-built creature of the night no fear in any of their interactions, eyes closed, lips slightly parted to snore or murmur soft nonsense to the dark, quiet room that he'd just found like a piece of cake begging to be swiped from the fridge. All of his fire was gone, his bottomless eyes not glaring up at the blonde, instead his head was turned to expose his throat and seemingly invite Stan to just take a nibble, in either sense of the word. It drove him insane. If his hormones weren't already insanely high, they were sky rocketing at the sight. So, the tall blonde almost couldn't help himself from taking advantage of his night vision to creep to the foot of the bed and slither under the covers so he could not only feel his crush's pale skin, but also see his pajamas. While he'd hoped to see him maybe in his boxers, knowing from the bit of a shirt sleeve he'd seen peeking from under the comforter that he'd not get him sleeping completely nude, he was not expecting to see the small male's legs half open and nothing on but a white button up that was about two sizes too big for him and had ridden up to his stomach, allowing the horny predator to see his genitals easier. The sight near-instantly filled the man's head with lascivious thoughts. Shifting slightly barely helped the beginnings of an erection, but it did put him closer to the hunter's groin, and without thinking, Stan's tongue shot out to lick up Xeno's length, making the sleeping man's member twitch in response to his sampling. Just like that, all of his control was nearly gone and he was moving further onto the bed to take the taunting member carefully into his fanged mouth. Stan nearly groaned audibly at the taste, savoring the thrill having prey so vulnerable and at his mercy sent through him before beginning to slowly move up and down his length. He did his best to be cautious of waking him up, but already his blue eyes were blurring with lust that increased with each soft sigh and moan that slipped past the sleeping hunter's lips above him, his urges only kept at bay because he was already fulfilling one of his smaller fantasies. While he had regained control of his instincts a bit, his thoughts were still just as raunchy and slightly demented as they had been before. Oh you are so lucky that I can't risk leaving evidence. Otherwise I'd rail your cute ass into the fucking mattress, Xeno. It wouldn't even matter if you woke up and caught me, your ass would be MINE. Of course, he refrained from acting on such possessive and screwed up thoughts, helped by the reminder that leaving any evidence of him being here would ruin any chance he had of consensually getting the hunter into bed, which he preferred over bedding him by force. Option one meant he would likely get a second round, option two, while momentarily satisfying, would be a one time thing, which would fade after a while. So, Stan pushed back those amoral thoughts and just continued to bob his head and run his tongue up the college graduate's length or around the tip to draw out noises. Sadly, when the pale man began softly moaning and sighing while Stan bobbed his head gently along his stiffened length, that issue slowly lost all teeth. So, in an attempt to lessen that threatening urge, Stan reached his hand down between his own legs and palmed his own erection as he sucked more mewls and muttered curses from the hunter. And, for a time, it worked to keep his predatory side at bay. However, the added friction forced out some low moans of his own, which made Xeno gasp out a quiet, slurred, "S-Stanley!" that dripped of desperation. That one groan held such a strong plea for the predator to fuck him silly, that it went straight to Stan's dick with so much force that he was insanely close to fulfilling that wish tenfold. Instead, the blonde pulled Xeno's member from his mouth and press his face into the sheets to wait out the onslaught of impatience. His whole body was thrumming with so many possessive, creative thoughts and ignited hormones that the mental image of Xeno begging for a break from Stanley's merciless pounding sent the blonde over the edge into carnal bliss. Afterwards, it took a few moments for Stan to come down from the euphoria high and wrangle that voice in his head ordering him to give the hunter what he obviously wanted in. Alright, time to go, he told himself, taking the moment of clarity to be smart and leave before he did something stupid. However, as he was backing up to get out from under the comforter, he realized that Xeno's dick still stood erect and twitching, begging to be played with until he climaxed, which, admittedly, was a sight Stan very much wanted to see and hear. So, he returned to it, giving the eager thing a firm lick from base to tip before sucking it back into his mouth. He could've simply reached up and used his hand to stroke him, but he very much wanted to taste the pale hunter, so he bobbed his head along his length and listened to Xeno's sighs and mewls while he worked. The blonde hummed around it, relishing the thrill having a human at his mercy, yet not killing or harming them, brought as well as the salty taste of Xeno's precum. The low groans and occasional moans his movements brought out added to the excitement, but since the blonde had orgasmed, he was thankfully a bit more in control of himself, so he refrained from railing the hunter just yet, instead just bobbing his head until Xeno gave another gasp of his name and orgasmed into the vampire’s mouth. Stan grinned, drinking it down and pulling away again to lick the remains from the other man's shaft. With that, and his own orgasm, the blonde laid there for a moment or two, just watching the sleeping man's cock soften once more as he debated whether he could get away with maybe gently fucking the snow-haired man. I really shouldn't. He's very likely to wake up, and I don't have THAT much self-restraint. He told himself, and he knew he was right, his dark side was just waiting for a big enough moment of vulnerability from him to take over and get him into deep, pleasurable, fantasy-fulfilling trouble... Despite really wanting to do nothing more than fuck Xeno's brains out, the vampire forced himself to fully leave the covers and stand up in the dark bedroom. That gave him a chance to see Xeno still laying there, panting slightly, his cheeks a tint pinker. He looked so inviting and adorable, it went right to Stan's dick a second time, but he was able to resist the urge to get back in the bed. Instead, he just turned to leave the home.

#stano #stan x Xeno #vampire!Stan #dr stone #drst #Xeno x Stan #scenario #not sfw #somnophilia #monster au

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Bill and Fleur - Our Spot

A/N - I do not own these characters, this is a work of fiction. Fleur is an absolute darling and I absolutely adore her. Please enjoy this cuteness despite the awful writing from my wattpad. It was fun to write in my two best languages as well, even if the French is just in bits.

Warnings - mentions of other character death, fluff, bad English and French for 1.6k words.

Summary - After the final task, Fleur finds herself in despair, and goes to the only spot she can think of to unwind, not expecting to be approached by a handsome stranger.

AFTER CEDRIC'S DEATH and the events of the maze, Fleur could be found in a hidden corner of the Hogwarts grounds that she'd discovered in her time there. She didn't realise anyone else went over there, until she heard footsteps. She didn't really want to be found, she was heartbroken and kind of traumatised. Inside that maze she'd encountered terrors that she never thought could be real.

She looked up, still wearing her blue velvet tracksuit in the faint moonlight mingling with remaining sunlight, and was met with the strikingly handsome ginger gentleman that she'd marvelled at in the stands, and in the relatives room much earlier on.

"Fleur is it? Are you ok?" he asked softly, going up to her and crouching next to her sitting figure. She wiped her eyes instinctively of mascara mingled tear tracks, even though they'd been dry for a while and met his eyes, nodding.

"Yes, I am ok merci. Cedric dying just upset me. Sorry, my Eenglish is not good. Comment t'appelle tu?" She spoke gently, seeing the man sit down next to her in the grass.

"Je m'appelle Bill. Nice to properly meet you." He held her hand gently and kissed it gently, making her chuckle a little but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "I don't speak much French, but I speak enough to get me through a conversation. and your English isn't too bad." He winked, causing her to smile again.

"I'm so sorry zat you found me here. I'm a mess, covered een mud!" She insisted, pointing to the patches of tried mud and blood stains all over her pale tracksuit, but Bill kept his grip on her hand firmly, so she let it happen, intertwining her fingers with his.

"You're beautiful you know?" He murmured after a moment of silence, making her flush a little despite constantly receiving compliments on her looks. She was startled also at how forward he was, and she felt special, like he really saw her. "I know you're part Veela, I can tell, and my brother said so... but it's not just that. You're beautiful even when you're dishevelled and muddy." He chuckled. "And you were so brave to take on that tournament. as soon as I saw you in the chamber and I saw your eyes, and then I saw you outside the maze and I was rooting for you despite Harry basically being my brother." he continued and she laughed a little.

"You should not 'ave looked at me before ze maze. Your handsomeness distracted me." a coy smirk began playing on her lips. She moved her spare hand up to brush some stray red hair off his face and tuck it behind his pierced ear.

She couldn't help but revel in him, despite her own good looks. He was tall and muscular, freckled with piercing blue eyes and a warm smile. He had quite long fiery red hair which was tied at the base of his neck in a little pony tail which suited him, as well as the fang dangling from his ear. Fleur had never felt this way about anyone before, she'd never been nervous around a guy due to her Veela heritage, but that didn't matter here. Despite only knowing him a short time, she felt that Bill could see who she really was beyond her billowing silvery blonde hair, perfect good looks and terrifying anger.

"You wanna talk about any of it? I don't have to get home for a bit, I was just visiting Harry in the hospital wing with mum, and before you ask, he's fine." He said, seeing the sorrow in her eyes, and she nodded. Bill sat down on the ground and pulled her velvet covered legs into his lap, allowing her to be comfortable.

"I feel like I failed me and my school in zis tournament. I did not complete ze second task in le... le lac. Ron et Harry saved ma Gabrielle. Et I messed up in ze maze, bringing shame on Beauxbatons et Madame Maxime. C'est mon année finalement, I wanted time to do somesing special and I failed. And Cedric-" She paused, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "We were friends, ze four of us. Because of this task. And now 'e is gone. I'm so sad he's been killed."

A lump began forming at the back of her throat and all her pent up emotions from the past year were being released. Bill could somehow tell that she'd be shunned if she showed this emotion to her classmates or headmistress, so he let her cry it all out, wrapping a reassuring arm around her.

"Fleur, you didn't fail your school. You performed admirably in this tournament. It's designed to test you and put you out of your depths ok? Quite literally in that second task, and no one blames you. You were an admirable champion and you've brought glory to your school in your final year, that's nothing to be ashamed of. And Cedric. I know you were friends, Harry wrote to me. Cedric lived in the same village as my family, I saw him growing up; the same year as my brother-" He began, but was cut off by a confused expression from Fleur.

"Your brother eez en Harry's year, non?" She asked with a bemused face, perfectly illuminated in the moonlight, and he laughed, having to gather himself before continuing. He held her legs closer to him, absently drawing shapes on her joggers, but she didn't mind.

"I have five brothers and a sister," He said, and her jaw dropped in response. "There's me, I'm 24, Charlie's 22, Percy's 18, Fred and George are in 6th year here so they're 17, Ron is in Harry's year so 15 now, and Ginny my sister is a year below Ron, she's 13."

Even after he finished, Fleur still looked astonished. She was admittedly a little awestruck, and it took her a while to speak, to find the words. Bill couldn't care less, he could sit with this beautiful young woman in his old spot under the stars forever.

"You 'ave a grande famille!" She said and he chuckled to himself, their oceans of eyes connecting and forming a bond. "It's just me and ma soeur Gabrielle, she eez almost ten." Her heart seemed to glow as well as her cheeks when thinking of her sister, and Bill could instantly tell they were close.

"Family's amazing isn't it? I want a family of my own one day, just maybe not with seven kids..." he said playfully, and her tears subsided, leaving her able to just enjoy his presence.

"It's ok that you're sad about Cedric, you know, a lot of people are, and you'll be able to go to his funeral. But the ones that love us never really leave us do they?" She nodded, a smile meeting her eyes this time. "There's that gorgeous smile. I know I only saw it at the start of the task and I've only known you, what a day? Properly, less than an hour, but your smile is wonderful." He marvels at her perfect pearly white teeth and her dusty pink lips.

He didn't mind that she was donning a dirt covered tracksuit with mud and blood on her face, he didn't mind that her hair was messy and held together by a breaking hair bobble, he didn't mind that they didn't speak the same language or that she'd just cried to him. Bill just enjoyed her company and honestly never wanted their meeting to end.

"So, when school ends, what are you gonna do?" He inquired, breaking the silence and pulling Fleur in closer to him, she happily agreed and nuzzled her head in his neck.

"I'm working at Gringotts 'opefully, maybe just in a shop, to make my Eenglish better. Just for ze summer." She smiled before asking him a variation of the same question and seeing his eyes light up.

"I'm a curse breaker for Gringotts!" He grinned, and she joined him, her cheeks beginning to ache. "I was working in Egypt, but now things are getting bad here, I'm gonna work at the main building in England. Guess I'll be seeing you at work then." He teased and nudged her lovingly which she thought was more than amiable.

"You will 'ave to 'elp me," she gazed up at him with wide eyes and he nodded almost immediately in agreement.

"Anytime..." he murmured, their faces getting closer until their lips were inches from one another. "We shouldn't do this. we'll be working together and I'm years older than you."

He tried to reason his desire, but couldn't even convince himself as their lips met in a lustful kiss. Their lips moved in unison, understanding one another, and they didn't dare let go until they couldn't breathe.

"Madame Maxime will want me at ze carriage now. Eet was nice to meet you, Bill Weasley." She blushed as she stood up and scrambled away, the moonlight reflecting off her hair, but Bill hurried after her and caught her wrist.

"Here." He said, slipping a hair bobble on her wrist. "Yours is about to break, and I know how often they go missing. A token to remember me by, until I see you next month of course." He flushed himself, his cheeks matching his hair, as she stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss to his cheek.

"Fleur Isabelle Delacour. I come to England on ze 10th of July."

And with that, she ran off into the starry distance, he could see her small frame turn into a faint shadow as he smiled to himself. Maybe it wasn't so bad that someone found his old spot, maybe it was their spot now.

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years

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Hey!! Was wondering if I could get some Dib x reader where the reader is a really ‘popular’ likeable kid at skool and Dib has liked them for a while but feels they’re “unattainable”? (Basically every high school romance movie ever lol) thanks!

I had a lot of fun with this one! It ended up being longer than I thought it would haha.

It was a crisp autumn day, dead leaves crunching under your feet. Although it was dry in the moment, there was this feeling in the air that threatened a downpour. You stood behind your friends when they came to a stop, watching them with your hands stuffed deep in your pockets, feet shifting, the only sign to display your discomfort. Your eyes followed the notebook that was being tossed between your friends, a simple black spiral book, appearance only made special by the strange eye symbol scribbled in paint marker that adorned the front. Wicked cackles escaped your friends as they continued to throw the book around as if it were a football.

"Give it back!" Ah. And then there was Dib. The strange boy in your class that went on and on about aliens and saving the earth from Zim, your other absurd classmate. He took another jump, swiping his arm out in a desperate attempt to reclaim what was his. His fingers gently grazed the binding, only to be yanked back by his trench coat at the hands of Torque Smacky. This was what qualified as a middle school prank. Admittedly, you had thought it was a bit funny at first. That was until your friends began to run to the edge of campus, spitting hurtful words back at the clearly unathletic Dib, who was wheezing and struggling to keep up with your group.

"Soulstealers? Chupacabras? You are actually insane." Jessica laughed as she flipped through what seemed to be his personal supernatural journal.

"This is why nobody likes you, Dib. You're a freak." Smacky shoved him hard, his body colliding with the chainlink fence. You winced at the rattling it caused and the look in his eyes as he hunkered down into himself, slouching against the fence. The one thing you could say about him was that he was not one to give up easily, if at all. And yet, he looked defeated, deciding to take the lickings and wait until they lost interest. You couldn't take it anymore.

You were always well liked by everyone. Everyone adored you and your pleasant attitude, always gravitating towards and revolving around you as if you were their sun. And although you stood behind those that you called your friends, you couldn't just sit there and watch how they treated Dib. He was definitely out there, sure, and maybe you didn't understand everything he said, but there was a line you had to draw. He was never hurting anyone. If he wanted to believe in aliens, who were you to stop him?

"Guys, that's enough. Knock it off." You spoke up for the first time in that encounter, snatching the book from Jessica's hands. Your friends, whom most would label as 'the popular crowd', all stared at you. Not necessarily in anger. More so shock. "Here." You tossed the notebook back to him, lips moving in a silent 'I'm sorry'. His hands fumbled the book, almost dropping it as he too stared at you with disbelief. Why would you help him? Weren't you friends with those who antagonized him?

"Thanks-"

"Shut it. Just feel lucky they stepped in." Smacky retreated a few feet back from him, glaring at him all the while.

"Let's go. It was getting boring anyways." Jessica turned swiftly on her heel, every one of your friends following her. Glancing one more time at Dib, you nodded to him, a movement that was so slight it was barely noticeable. Without another word, you jogged after your friends, catching up with them quickly.

Dib was left standing there, still leaning against the fence, notebook still clutched close to his chest. His mind was now full of questions, which was no different from its usual state. Why would you be nice to him? No one was ever nice to him. Especially not the popular kids. He began to wonder if, maybe, just maybe, you weren't as bad as the kids you spent your time with.

High school. Sometimes media would try and convince you that it was supposed to be some magical experience that would change your life, that your entire character could be rebuilt from the ground up. If that were completely true, why had everything remained an almost exact carbon copy of the way it's been since your earlier days? Sure, you had changed a little bit. Different music taste, new style, trivial things like that. But, your friends and position on the social ladder? Exactly the same. You had stayed in the popular pool, friends still adoring you, and despite questioning their actions and morals many a time, you adored them as well. If anything, you were more popular than ever.

Dib had also remained the same. Always squabbling with Zim, causing a scene, being made fun of and ostracized daily. He was still the local loser, but at this point he was owning it. He never did have the patience to be someone he was not. That was one thing you admired about him, one thing you could never be. You didn't think anyone you were close to could ever truly be themselves. The only thing that felt different about him was his more 'fuck you' attitude to those who antagonized him. He still wouldn't fight back, but he had developed a tougher skin, almost paying no mind to any insults. He knew what was right in his mind, if no one would believe him, their loss.

Over the years, you had many classes with Dib. You had grown rather fond of him, at the very least he believed in something that wasn't ridiculously vapid. And, despite coming off as a bit of a nervous dork in some instances, he was surprisingly self-assured, for the most part. You were proud to admit to yourself that you looked forward to see him almost every day.

Twisting the knob on the classroom door, you let yourself in, eyes resting on the familiar dark-haired nerd, his face taken up by the same large glasses he's had for as long as you could remember. Waving, you approached his table, watching him straighten up almost immediately.

"Morning, Dib. How're you doing?" You always liked to ask him how things were going for him, knowing that he never was given concern very often. No one in your class would ask him how his life was, his sister, at least to you, seemed to not care, and from what you knew, his dad was some prestigious scientist that was always busy.

"Hey, Y/n. And, um, I'm doing alright! What about you?" His smile was bright, cheeks just the slightest bit flushed as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. You felt a giggle escape you as you witnessed this. Every morning, despite having the exact same routine, he always seemed to be taken aback that you were asking how he was doing, that you were even the tiniest amount of invested in his life.

"Fine, I guess. What about your ghosts and aliens?" You weren't sure that you believed in all of that crap, but if he took an interest in it and he wasn't harming anyone, who were you to stop him? "Oh, and I want an update on that werewolf you found in your trash." Remembering the story he had told you yesterday, you figured you would ask for a follow up to show your genuine encouragement.

"Oh, that! Uh, well...it turns out it was just some really hairy homeless guy rummaging through our garbage, but...as for aliens, I watched Zim's robot eat a baby. That was equal parts disturbing and intriguing." He shuddered, having flashbacks to whatever went down last night.

"His dog that he brought to pet day last year?" Thinking back to that day, it was a little strange. All hell broke loose, his dog going absolutely insane. It was a blessing he didn't end up destroying the entire school. Only the east wing. Lady luck was on your side that day, that was for sure.

“Yeah, GIR. The lip smacking noises really made it horrible." A cringe settled onto his features, and you felt it spreading to yourself as well. As much as you didn't believe that Zim was an alien (he was definitely odd and uncomfortable, that you would admit), you could see his dog consuming a human child.

"Geez. I'm sorry I asked." A chuckle fell from your lips, wishing to move past the disturbing imagery brought on by his response. Luckily for you, your teacher had announced the start of class, sending you back to your seat without having to think of a subject change.

"Tired of your charity work yet?" Jessica asked as you sat down in your usual seat across from her. Pressing your lips in a tight line, you pulled out your notebook and pencil, choosing to ignore her comment. You had always hated the abysmal way your friends treated Dib. So what if he was a bit weird? You felt bad for him, he had no one to talk to besides Zim, and he ate lunch with his sister every day. "Come on, please don't tell me you actually want to be his friend."

"I never said that...it's just...he seems so lonely." Ever since you could remember, you had been surrounded by friends. It was near impossible to hate you. You had never known what it was like to be all on your own, cursed to be a lone wolf. To you, it seemed that being alone was all Dib had ever experienced.

"He deserves it. He's a freak." Her answers were short and snappy as she tired of the subject.

"Does he?" Did anyone deserve to be lonely solely for being a little off beat? You were the only one of your friends, hell, even the whole school, who seemed to disagree with her notion. The social outcasts and rejects wouldn't even associate with him.

"Look, Y/n. I like you, I really do. We're friends. We have been for a long time. But if you become his friend, people are going to start talking." Your gaze fell to the tabletop, tired of this not-quite-argument. "You're too nice. I know you pity him, but think about your standing here. Popularity comes with a price."

"I didn't ask to be popular, okay? And at least if I were his friend, my social circle wouldn't be full of a bunch of dicks and stuck up bitches!" You spat, patience completely snapping. Jessica sat in a stunned silence, her eyes wide. That was the first time you had ever actively stood up to her. After a moment, you realized you were just a tad harsh, although she did deserve it. She was still your friend after all, and in her own twisted way, she was trying to look out for you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"We can talk about it later at lunch. Just calm down, alright?" Jessica brushed stray strands of blonde hair behind her ear, sticking her nose deep in her textbook for the first time in months. Sighing deeply, your eyes drifted to Dib's seat. His glance had already been on you, so you had managed to catch his eyes. His shoulders tensed from being caught staring, color creeping up his neck to his face. Before he could turn away, your lips quirked into a slight smile as you waved to him. It took him a second to register, but he returned the wave, a dorky grin plastered on his face. Again, you just couldn't see what was so bad about him.

"Dib, I swear to god, do you ever listen to me when I speak? You break my immersion-"

"You break my face. Yeah, I know." I laid on the couch, watching my sister play whatever VR game she was into at the time. All I did was start to ask her a question, I had barely gotten one syllable out before she cut me off. "It's important, I swear."

"Let me guess, Zim is eating waffles again?" Her voice was irritated, and I'm sure inside that head of hers she was wishing me to be dead.

"No, actually-"

"He's hiding in his toilet? Ooh, or maybe he's trying to work the toaster." Okay, so maybe I interrupt her for admittedly meaningless things sometimes. Fine, a lot of the times.

"This has nothing to do with Zim!" Now I had her attention. She hesitated for just the slightest second before she resumed playing again.

"Oh? This had better be good, Dib." Her voice was no longer threatening, rather it held curiosity. Although she would never say it to my face, she was intrigued by what I had to say.

"I need advice." Now, normally Gaz would be the last person on earth I would go to for this kind of thing, but I had already tried my dad, and lesson learned, never seek romantic advice from a man who is married to science. So, I had already exhausted pretty much all of my options. The internet was surprisingly not much help either.

"On what? How to stop bothering your sister?" Her words didn't match her tone at all. Besides, I knew that if she really wanted me out, she would remove me by force. I was suddenly beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea. After all, Gaz was very much...how to put this lightly...not romantically inclined. Still, she was my only hope at this point, and really, all I needed was someone to vent to.

"I was thinking more along the lines of cliché high school romance?" My voice became higher and quieter as the sentence went on, and I was just barely cut off by Gaz's groan. Despite her attitude, she powered off her headset out of her own volition, which meant she was definitely interested in whatever I had to say. I pushed myself to where I was sitting up, Gaz falling back onto the couch next to me.

"You're joking, right? You're asking me for advice?" I couldn't believe it either.

"Just hear me out?"

Fine. But if it's stupid I'm leaving." I already knew she wouldn't say no, but she still had to pretend it was a chore to listen to me.

"Okay, so you know Y/n, right?"

"The popular kid? They're so out of your league, Dib." She sounded condescending yet not surprised. I figured she had caught me staring at them at lunch multiple times. I had probably been pretty obvious about it. Thinking about that made me cringe, because Y/n most likely knows I stare at them all the time. If they didn't already hate me before, I'm sure they do now, they probably think I'm some sort of creepy stalker. Well, that's not the worst thing I've been called at school, so I'll take it, I guess.

"I know! And I told myself I wasn't going to fall for them, but I did. They actually talk to me though! Every morning in first period, and they wave to me in the halls, and god they have the cutest smile-"

"Dib! Okay! I get it, you're in love or whatever."

"I never said I was in love! It's just a crush. There's a difference." I watched her roll her eyes so hard I thought she might be transported to another dimension. Even I knew deep down I was lying through my teeth. All the little things had made me fall deeper into whatever my infatuation with Y/n was. Every glance, every little quip, every greeting...they all made my heart flutter and I would feel sick to my stomach every time I thought about them. It was a satisfying kind of sick, though. I knew I had been carrying these feelings for a long time. They had always been the first, if not the only, person to stand up for me when the teasing became too much. Of course I was going to fall in love, what else was to be expected?

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. But, do you even talk to them? No, you don't."

"So?" She was right. I never went out of my way to approach them. We would share short and simple conversations, but only when they spoke to me first. I was always too scared. They were the only person who could make me nervous and doubt myself anymore. The reasonable part of me told me that if I just went up to them, they would welcome the conversation. But, something was always stopping me. I held them on a pedestal, so much so that I believed making any move at all to be impossible. Y/n for me is unattainable, someone I was never meant to have. They were part of the untouchables, the most popular and worshiped kids in school. I'm just the freakshow who attracts all the wrong kinds of attention. And yet, something was pushing me to just reach for it.

"You're going to shoot your shot, aren't you." Her voice was flat. It wasn't a question. Rather, a statement that we both already knew to be true.

"Well, you know what they say. If you shoot for the moon, you're bound to at least land among the stars."

"I don't think that applies to this, unless your version of 'among the stars' is being taken out behind the school and beaten until you see stars." Ah, Gaz. Always so encouraging. What would I do without her?

"Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Of course! It's a terrible idea! But, it would be kind of funny to watch..." A smirk crept onto her face, which would have been unnerving if my thoughts weren't already racing to think of how I would even accomplish this.

"So, you're in?"

"I would never miss a chance to watch someone kick the shit out of you."

Without a doubt, you were spaced out. To the point where you barely noticed what had been left behind in your locker, almost crushing it with your multiple textbooks.

"What the...?" You pulled out a small bouquet of flowers and a note from your locker, even more confused than when you first saw it. For starters, you weren't sure how it had gotten in there in the first place. You were sure it was locked and that no one knew the combo. Unless someone broke into it with brute strength or some advanced skillset. If that wasn't enough to drive you crazy, the note was anonymous. No name, no nothing. It was typed as well, so you couldn't even analyze the handwriting if you wanted to. The contents of the note contained a love confession, and you weren't quite sure where to even begin with suspects. There were many people who had crushes on you, some even within your own friend group. Even still, the note was odd. It sounded like nobody in particular, the wordage making it seem like it could be from anyone and no one at the same time.

"Hey, Y/n. What'cha got there?" Jessica came up behind you, eyeing the flowers with intrigue. The two of you were back to being on good terms. This was how your friendship normally worked, for as long as you could remember anyway.

"A secret admirer, apparently." You mumbled, handing her the note to read. Clearly, the person had no intention of outing themselves. They were hoping for you to catch on. From the tone in the note, you guessed it had to come from someone who felt they had no place in confessing. That could be anyone, for literally any reason. Maybe they were your best friend, or a social reject.

"No way! We have to find out who this is."

"I dunno, they seem to be trying really hard to keep their identity a secret."

"But what if it's someone hot?" She poked you in the side, her face pleading with you to let her assist in finding out who left the gift as she passed the note back to you.

"But what if it's Zim?" You doubted it was him. As far as you were concerned, you pretended he didn't exist, and he seemed to hate your guts, which was completely fine by you. The two of you burst out laughing as you put the flowers back in your locker so you could retrieve them after school. "But, maybe I don't want to know."

"Lame." She huffed as you began your walk to class. You folded the note, stuffing it deep in your pocket. You hated that you knew you wouldn't be able to let this go. You felt the need to solve the mystery. Although you had no clue where to even begin, there was one person you hoped it would be from. He was your main suspicion, even though a part of you wondered if that was due to wishing for it to be so.

"Can we please just be lowkey about this? If I decide to pursue this, I want to keep it hushed. Word spreads like wildfire here."

Well, you were absolutely right about one thing. Word travels fast in high school, especially if it's drama. Left and right, you had people asking if you had found the unknown Romeo who had broke into your locker. You were disappointed but not surprised. You had expected Jessica to talk. Her lips were about as tightly sealed as a window in summertime. So far, everyone had their own theories. The wildest one you had heard was that it was from one of your teachers. You were immediately disgusted with that, and how desperately you desired to unhear that statement.

Nevertheless, you had started to feel more confident in your own personal favorite guess. There had been one certain individual who was particularly silent through the whole matter, almost uncharacteristically so.

Lunch time. The perfect time to gain confirmation of your theory. Tray of borderline unedible garbage in hand, you strode to your usual table, which seated all of the school's finest and most elite in terms of the social ladder. Instead of taking a seat like everyone expected, you continued to walk, not stopping until you reached the very last table in the back, which sat only two: the Membrane kids. Setting your tray down, you took a seat across from Dib, who stared in utter shock and amazement. The sister looked up from her Game Slave, glance so brief you weren't entirely sure if it had even happened. Without a word, she rose from her seat, leaving the lunch room completely, most likely to continue playing in the hallway. Let's face it, no one was going to eat the shit they served anyway. You hoped he would say something, anything that would be incriminating. However, only the usual din of the cafeteria could be heard, the occasional murmur of your table switch slipping through.

You couldn't handle any more of the surrounding clatter of trays, laughter, and indecipherable words, so you decided to speak. "Hey, Dib. You like mysteries, right?" The poor boy looked helpless, red up to the tips of his ears, eyes refusing to meet yours.

"Sure..." You could feel his knee bumping the table as he bounced his leg at about a hundred miles per minute. You had him right where you wanted him, and he knew it. You both did. In that moment, you knew it was him. It had to be. He was acting even stranger than usual. Based on his behavior, he knew you had cracked the case. Thinking back, it should have been fairly obvious from the beginning.

"Well, something strange happened this morning. And since mysteries are kind of your thing, I was wondering if you could help me?" You were trying to coax him into saying the words you needed so desperately to hear. And yet, he was so stubborn.

"Alright, I could, you know, give it a go, I guess." Maybe he wasn't stubborn, maybe this was him playing out his last hope that you still were clueless on who it could be.

"I found something interesting in my locker this morning. Some very pretty flowers and a lovely little note, but unfortunately, it was anonymous. So, I guess I have a secret admirer on my hands." By gauging his reaction, you could tell he wasn't about to relent any time soon. He nodded his head, lips pursed in a tight line.

"Well, that's a tough one." Vague answers, saying as little as possible. You were getting nowhere, and would be getting nowhere. He was really going to make you say it, wasn't he?

"Yes. I have my suspicions. Would you like to hear them?" He didn't respond at all, fingers drumming nervously on the table. He still wouldn't own up to it. You decided to give him one last chance to confess, saying no more and staring directly at him. Hoping the pressure would bring him to spill, you thought your breath would catch in your throat when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Did you do the math homework last night?" His voice was almost an octave higher than normal, and there was a slight wobble to it. You could only fix him with a glare. Unbelievable. He was trying to get out of this by changing the subject. There was no way in hell you were letting that happen.

"I know it's you, Dib."

"Oh...you do?" His voice was so soft and faint that you had to strain to hear it. His eyes fell to the floor, as if trying to will a wormhole to open beneath his feet to swallow him so he could be anywhere but there in that moment.

What Dib was expecting to happen was for laughter to spill from your lips, followed by you telling him that you could never in a thousand years like someone like him, that his chances were below zero.

Some pearls of laughter did escape you, but it wasn't malicious. Even Dib, in his most insecure and vulnerable state could see that. Throughout the day, you were itching for this confrontation. You hoped it was him, you wanted it to be him. Not so you could throw it back in his face. This whole ordeal brought you to realize that you had somehow caught feelings for him as well. Your morning conversations about spooks, although mildly concerning at times, made your day, and you appreciated how passionate he was about his interests, even if you didn't completely understand them.

"Who knew you were such a dorky, hopeless romantic?" You didn't think it was possible, but the blush that stained his face darkened at your words that were broken by giggles.

"So...you liked the flowers? Or were you just saying that?" His eyes finally met your own for the first time in what felt like ages. You could see he was slowly relaxing, although to him it probably felt as if he were still walking on eggshells.

"Of course. I'll put them in my room when I get home." His lips pulled back into the cutest smile you had ever seen, and you thought your heart had melted on the spot. "Can I see your phone?" You blurted out, embarrassed of yourself. What ever happened to playing it cool?

"Should I be concerned?" A hint of worry crept into his voice, but regardless, he pushed his phone over to you. Taking it, you opened contacts and input your number, adding a small heart next to your name. As you glanced around the lunchroom, eyes had started to become glued to you. You had been sitting there much too long, and many were taking notice. Standing up, you slid the phone back to him, taking your uneaten tray in your hands.

"Call me sometime." Those were the final few words that were spoken as you made your way back to your usual table, leaving him to sit and stare in disbelief. As lunch drew to a close, you would shoot Dib occasional looks, waving happily whenever you caught his eyes. You let yourself dream that this was possibly the beginning of some blossoming high school romance. In your position, you had your pick of virtually anyone at your school. Nevertheless, you wouldn't have wanted anyone else to be your secret admirer.

#dib membrane #invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #fanfiction #dib x reader #invader zim x reader #invader zim one shot #invader zim fic #invader zim oneshot #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #request

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justforbooks · 3 years

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Fifty Great Classic Novels Under 200 Pages

We are now end of February, which is technically the shortest month, but is also the one that—for me, anyway—feels the longest. Especially this year, for all of the reasons that you already know. At this point, if you keep monthly reading goals, even vague ones, you may be looking for few a good, short novels to knock out in an afternoon or two. So now I must turn my attention to my favorite short classics—which represent the quickest and cheapest way, I can tell you in my salesman voice, to become “well-read.”

A few notes: This list will define “classic” as being originally published before 1970. Yes, these distinctions are somewhat arbitrary, but one has to draw the line somewhere (though I let myself fudge on translation dates). I did not differentiate between novels and novellas (as Steven Millhauser would tell you, the novella is not a form at all, but merely a length), but let’s be honest with ourselves: “The Dead” is a short story, and so is “The Metamorphosis.” Sorry! I limited myself to one book by each author, valiantly, I should say, because I was tempted to cheat (looking at you Jean Rhys).

Most importantly for our purposes here: lengths vary with editions, sometimes wildly. I did not include a book below unless I could find that it had been published at least once in fewer than 200 pages—which means that some excellent novels, despite coming tantalizingly close to the magic number, had to be left off for want of proof (see Mrs. Dalloway, Black No More, Slaughterhouse-Five, etc. etc. etc.). However, your personal edition might not exactly match the number I have listed here. Don’t worry: it’ll still be short.

Finally, as always: “best” lists are subjective, no ranking is definitive, and I’ve certainly forgotten, or never read, or run out of space for plenty of books and writers here. And admittedly, the annoying constraints of this list make it more heavily populated by white and male writers than I would have liked. Therefore, please add on at will in the comments. After all, these days, I’m always looking for something old to read.

Adolfo Bioy Casares, tr. Ruth L.C. Simms, The Invention of Morel (1940) : 103 pages

Both Jorge Luis Borges and Octavio Paz described this novel as perfect, and I admit I can’t find much fault with it either. It is technically about a fugitive whose stay on a mysterious island is disturbed by a gang of tourists, but actually it’s about the nature of reality and our relationship to it, told in the most hypnotizing, surrealist style. A good anti-beach read, if you plan that far ahead.

John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men (1937) : 107 pages

Everybody’s gateway Steinbeck is surprisingly moving, even when you revisit it as an adult. Plus, if nothing else, it has given my household the extremely useful verb “to Lenny.”

George Orwell, Animal Farm (1945) : 112 pages

If we didn’t keep putting it on lists, how would future little children of America learn what an allegory is? This is a public service, you see.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles (1902) : 112 pages

A people-pleaser, in more ways than one: Sherlock Holmes, after all, had been dead for years when his creator finally bent to public demand (and more importantly, the demand of his wallet) and brought him back, in this satisfying and much-beloved tale of curses and hell-beasts and, of course, deductions.

James M. Cain, The Postman Always Rings Twice (1933) : 112 pages

A 20th century classic, and still one of the best, most important, and most interesting crime novels in the canon. Fun fact: Cain had originally wanted to call it Bar-B-Q.

Nella Larsen, Passing (1929) : 122 pages

One of the landmarks of the Harlem Renaissance, about not only race but also gender and class—not to mention self-invention, perception, capitalism, motherhood and friendship—made indelible by what Darryl Pinckney called “a deep fatalism at the core.”

Albert Camus, tr. Matthew Ward, The Stranger (1942) : 123 pages

I had a small obsession with this book as a moody teen, and I still think of it with extreme fondness. Is it the thinking person’s Catcher in the Rye? Who can say. But Camus himself put it this way, writing in 1955: “I summarized The Stranger a long time ago, with a remark I admit was highly paradoxical: “In our society any man who does not weep at his mother’s funeral runs the risk of being sentenced to death.” I only meant that the hero of my book is condemned because he does not play the game.”

Juan Rulfo, tr. Margaret Sayers Peden, Pedro Páramo (1955) : 128 pages

The strange, fragmented ghost story that famously paved the way for One Hundred Years of Solitude (according to Gabriel García Márquez himself), but is an enigmatic masterpiece in its own right.

Italo Calvino, tr. Archibald Colquhoun, The Cloven Viscount (1959) : 128 pages

This isn’t my favorite Calvino, but you know what they say: all Calvino is good Calvino (also, I forgot him on the contemporary list, so I’m making up for it slightly here). The companion volume to The Nonexistent Knight and The Baron in the Trees concerns a Viscount who is clocked by a cannonball and split into two halves: his good side and his bad side. They end up in a duel over their wife, of course—just like in that episode of Buffy. But turns out that double the Viscounts doesn’t translate to double the pages.

Kate Chopin, The Awakening (1899) : 128 pages

I know, I know, but honestly, this book, which is frequently taught in American schools as an example of early feminist literature, is still kind of edgy—more than 120 years later, and it’s still taboo for a woman to put herself and her own desires above her children. Whom among us has not wanted to smash a symbolic glass vase into the hearth?

Leo Tolstoy, tr. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, The Death of Ivan Ilyich (1886) : 128 pages

Another classic—Tolstoy can do it all, long and short—particularly beloved by the famously difficult-to-impress Nabokov, who described it as “Tolstoy’s most artistic, most perfect, and most sophisticated achievement,” and explained the thrust of it this way: “The Tolstoyan formula is: Ivan lived a bad life and since the bad life is nothing but the death of the soul, then Ivan lived a living death; and since beyond death is God’s living light, then Ivan died into a new life—Life with a capital L.”

Richard Brautigan, In Watermelon Sugar (1968) : 138 pages

Brautigan’s wacky post-apocalyptic novel concerns a bunch of people living in a commune called iDEATH. (Which, um, relatable.) The landscape is groovy and the tigers do math, and the titular watermelon sugar seems to be the raw material for everything from homes to clothes. “Wherever you are, we must do the best we can. It is so far to travel, and we have nothing here to travel, except watermelon sugar. I hope this works out.” It’s all nonsense, of course, but it feels so good.

James Weldon Johnson, The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man (1912) : 140 pages

Another early novel on the subject of passing—originally published in 1912, then again under Johnson’s name in 1927—this one presented as an “autobiography” written by a Black man living as white, but uneasily, considering himself a failure, feeling until the end the grief of giving up his heritage and all the pain and joy that came with it.

Thomas Mann, tr. Michael Henry Heim, Death in Venice (1912) : 142 pages

What it says on the tin—a story as doomed as Venice itself, but also a queer and philosophical mini-masterpiece. The year before the book’s publication, Mann wrote to a friend: “I am in the midst of work: a really strange thing I brought with me from Venice, a novella, serious and pure in tone, concerning a case of pederasty in an aging artist. You say, ‘Hum, hum!’ but it is quite respectable.” Indeed.

Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962) : 146 pages

If you’re reading this space, you probably already know how much we love this book at Literary Hub. After that excellent opening paragraph, it only gets better.

Christopher Isherwood, A Single Man (1964) : 152 pages

Isherwood’s miniature, jewel-like masterpiece takes place over a single day in the life of a middle-aged English expat (who shares a few qualities with Isherwood himself), a professor living uneasily in California after the unexpected death of his partner. An utterly absorbing and deeply pleasurable novel.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, tr. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, Notes from Underground (1864) : 154 pages

Probably the best rant ever passed off as literature. Dostoevsky's first masterpiece has been wildly influential in the development of existential and dystopian storytelling of all kinds, not to mention in the development of my own high school misanthropy. Maybe yours, too? “It was all from ENNUI, gentlemen, all from ENNUI; inertia overcame me . . .” Actually, now I’m thinking that it might be a good book to re-read in pandemic isolation.

Anna Kavan, Ice (1967) : 158 pages

The narrator of this strange and terrifying novel obsessively pursues a young woman through an icy apocalypse. You might call it a fever dream if it didn’t feel so . . . cold. Reading it, wrote Jon Michaud on its 50th anniversary, is “a disorienting and at times emotionally draining experience, not least because, these days, one might become convinced that Kavan had seen the future.” Help.

Jean Toomer, Cane (1923) : 158 pages

Toomer’s experimental, multi-disciplinary novel, now a modernist classic, is presented as a series of vignettes, poems, and swaths of dialogue—but to be honest, all of it reads like poetry. Though its initial reception was uncertain, it has become one of the most iconic and influential works of 1920s American literature.

J.G. Ballard, The Drowned World (1962) : 158 pages

Only in a Ballard novel can climate change make you actually become insane—and only a Ballard novel could still feel so sticky and hot in my brain, years after I read it in a single afternoon.

Knut Hamsun, tr. Sverre Lyngstad, Hunger (1890) : 158 pages

The Nobel Prize winner’s first novel is, as Hamsun himself put it, “an attempt to describe the strange, peculiar life of the mind, the mysteries of the nerves in a starving body.” An modernist psychological horror novel that is notoriously difficult, despite its length, but also notoriously worth it.

James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room (1956) : 159 pages

Still my favorite Baldwin, and one of the most convincing love stories of any kind ever written, about which there is too much to say: it is a must-read among must-reads.

Willa Cather, O Pioneers! (1913) : 159 pages

A mythic, proto-feminist frontier novel about a young Swedish immigrant making a home for herself in Nebraska, with an unbearably cool and modern title (in my opinion).

Françoise Sagan, tr. Irene Ash, Bonjour Tristesse (1955) : 160 pages

Sagan’s famously scandalous novel of youthful hedonism, published (also famously) when Sagan was just 19 herself, is much more psychologically nuanced than widely credited. As Rachel Cusk wrote, it is not just a sexy French novel, but also “a masterly portrait that can be read as a critique of family life, the treatment of children and the psychic consequences of different forms of upbringing.” It is a novel concerned not only with morals or their lack, but with the very nature of morality itself.

Herman Melville, Billy Budd, Sailor (1924) : 160 pages

Bartleby may be more iconic (and more fun), but Billy Budd is operating on a grander scale, unfinished as it may be.

Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49 (1966) : 160 pages

Everyone’s gateway to Pynchon, and also everyone’s gateway to slapstick postmodernism. Either you love it or you hate it!

Franz Kafka, tr. Willa and Edwin Muir, The Trial (1925) : 160 pages

Required reading for anyone who uses the term “Kafkaesque”—but don’t forget that Kafka himself would burst out laughing when he read bits of the novel out loud to his friends. Do with that what you will.

Kenzaburo Oe, tr. John Nathan, A Personal Matter (1968) : 165 pages

Whew. This book is a lot: absolutely gorgeous and supremely painful, and probably the Nobel Prize winner’s most important.

Djuna Barnes, Nightwood (1936) : 170 pages

In his preface to the first edition, T.S. Eliot praised “the great achievement of a style, the beauty of phrasing, the brilliance of wit and characterisation, and a quality of horror and doom very nearly related to that of Elizabethan tragedy.” It is also a glittering modernist masterpiece, and one of the first novels of the 20th century to explicitly portray a lesbian relationship.

Yasunari Kawabata, tr. Edward G. Seidensticker, Snow Country (1937) : 175 pages

A story of doomed love spun out in a series of indelible, frozen images—both beautiful and essentially suspicious of beauty—by a Nobel Prize winner.

Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea (1966) : 176 pages

This novel, Rhys’s famous riposte to one of the worst love interests in literary history, tells the story of Mr. Rochester from the point of view of the “madwoman in the attic.” See also: Good Morning, Midnight (1939), which is claustrophobic, miserable, pointless, and damn fine reading.

George Eliot, Silas Marner (1861) : 176 pages

Like Middlemarch, Silas Marner is exquisitely written and ecstatically boring. Unlike Middlemarch, it is quite short.

Muriel Spark, The Girls of Slender Means (1963) : 176 pages

The girls of Spark’s novel live in the May of Teck Club, disturbed but not destroyed by WWII—both the Club, that is, and the girls. “Their slenderness lies not so much in their means,” Carol Shields wrote in an appreciation of the book, “as in their half-perceived notions about what their lives will become and their overestimation of their power in the world. They are fearless and frightened at the same time, as only the very young can be, and they are as heartless in spirit as they are merry in mode.” Can’t go wrong with Muriel Spark.

Robert Walser, tr. Christopher Middleton, Jakob von Gunten (1969) : 176 pages

Walser is a writer’s writer, a painfully underrated genius; this novel, in which a privileged youth runs off to enroll at a surrealist school for servants, may be his best.

Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1958) : 179 pages

Read for proof that Holly Golightly was meant to be a Marilyn.

Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart (1958) : 181 pages

A powerful, clear-eyed, and haunting novel, which at the time of its publication was transgressive in its centering of African characters in all their humanity and complexity, and which paved the way for thousands of writers all over the world in the years to follow.

Leonard Gardner, Fat City (1969) : 183 pages

Universally acknowledged as the best boxing novel ever written, but so much more than that: at its core, it’s a masterpiece about that secret likelihood of life, if not of literature: never achieving your dreams.

N. Scott Momaday, House Made of Dawn (1968) : 185 pages

House Made of Dawn, Momaday’s first novel, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize and is often credited with ushering in the Native American Renaissance. Intricate, romantic, and lush, it is at its core about the creaking dissonance of two incompatible worlds existing in the same place (both literally and metaphysically) at the same time.

Chester Himes, If He Hollers Let Him Go (1945) : 186 pages

Himes’ first novel spans four days in the life of a Californian named Bob Jones, whose every step is dogged by racism. Walter Mosely called Himes, who is also renowned for his detective fiction, a “quirky American genius,” and also “one of the most important American writers of the 20th century.” If He Hollers Let Him Go, while not technically a detective story, is “firmly located in the same Los Angeles noir tradition as The Big Sleep and Devil in a Blue Dress,” Nathan Jefferson has written. “Himes takes the familiar mechanics of these novels—drinking, driving from one end of Los Angeles to another in search of answers, a life under constant threats of danger—and filters them through the lens of a black man lacking any agency and control over his own life, producing something darker and more oppressive than the traditional pulp detective’s story.”

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925) : 189 pages

All my life I have wanted to scoff at The Great Gatsby. Usually, things that are universally adored are bad, or at least mediocre. But every time I reread it, I remember: impossibly, annoyingly, it is as good as they say.

Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin (1957) : 190 pages

Still one of my favorite campus novels, and short enough to read in between classes.

Charles Portis, Norwood (1966) : 190 pages

Portis has gotten a lot of (well-deserved) attention in recent years for True Grit, but his first novel, Norwood, is almost as good, a comic masterpiece about a young man traipsing across a surreal America to lay his hands on $70.

Philip K. Dick, Ubik (1969) : 191 pages

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and A Scanner Darkly have more mainstream name recognition (thank you Hollywood) but Ubik is Dick’s masterpiece, filled to the brim with psychics and anti-psis, dead wives half-saved in cold-pac, and disruptions to time and reality that can be countered by an aerosol you get at the drugstore. Sometimes, anyway.

Clarice Lispector, tr. Alison Entrekin, Near to the Wild Heart (1943) : 192 pages

Lispector’s debut novel, first published in Brazil when she was only 19, is still my favorite of hers: fearless, sharp-edged, and brilliant, a window into one of the most interesting narrators in literature.

Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange (1962) : 192 pages

This novel is probably more famous these days for the Kubrick film, but despite the often gruesome content, the original text is worth a read for the language alone.

Barbara Comyns, Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead (1954) : 193 pages

Comyns is a criminally under-read genius, though she’s been getting at least a small taste of the attention she deserves in recent years due to reissues by NYRB and Dorothy. This one is my favorite, permeated, as Brian Evenson puts it in the introduction of my copy, with marvelousness, “a kind of hybrid of the pastoral and the naturalistic, an idyllic text about what it’s like to grow up next to a river, a text that also just happens to contain some pretty shocking and sad disasters.” Which is putting it rather mildly indeed.

Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) : 194 pages

In 194 pages, Janie goes through more husbands than most literary heroines can manage in twice as many (and finds herself in equally short order).

Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome (1911) : 195 pages

To be honest with you, though it has been variously hailed as a masterpiece, I find Ethan Frome to be lesser Wharton—but even lesser Wharton is better than a lot of people’s best.

Joan Lindsay, Picnic at Hanging Rock (1967) : 198 pages

The mood this novel—of disappeared teens and Australian landscape and uncertainty—lingers much longer than the actual reading time.

Angela Carter, The Magic Toyshop (1967) : 200 pages

“The summer she was fifteen,” Carter’s second novel begins, “Melanie discovered she was made of flesh and blood.” It is that year that she is uprooted from her home in London to the wilds of America, and it is that year she comes to term with herself. “It is often the magical, fabular aspects of Carter’s stories that people focus on, but in The Magic Toyshop I responded to the way she blended this with a clear-eyed realism about what it was to live in a female body,” Evie Wyld wrote in her ode to this novel. “In a novel so brilliantly conjured from splayed toothbrush heads, mustard-and-cress sandwiches and prawn shells, bread loaves and cutlery, brickwork and yellow household soap, the female body is both one more familiar object and at the same time something strange and troubling.”

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feed-your-neopets · 3 years

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Valdemar x Devil!Lucio Fluff (One-shot)

Writer Preface:

First, I haven’t written fanfiction in years. Nor have I read a book recently. So, don’t feel bad about pointing out grammar mistakes or spelling mistakes. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this. Also, my knowledge of the science and medical world is pitiful. Please, let me know if I said something ridiculous.

Second, it is cannon that Lucio has a New Jersey accent. It may enhance the story to imagine him with it, because I did while writing this.

Third, this is just slow, awkward, fluffy Valdemar x Lucio stuff. I was trying to piece together how a relationship could even develop between them, and I love the challenge of unlikely, cursed pairings. I was thinking this would probably take place in Muriel’s route (so, smoll SPOILERS from this point on). I would think Lucio’s social circle would be dwindling since – ya know – he merged with the Devil and all. Lucio would definitely be longing for friendship and companionship. Valdemar will humor him if it means they get new things to study. Get that bag, Valdemar.

---

The salon was one of the few rooms left in the palace where one could find some peace. Ironic, as this room was once one of the livelier places in the palace. After all, the salon was where Countess Nadia would entertain her guests. Now, it was an echo of its former self.

Since his resurrection and merging with the boss, Count Lucio ran with a different crowd, and these new guests had a habit of “borrowing”. Not that Valdemar cared about the state of the rooms throughout the palace, nor the drunkards who sloppily paraded through the hallways with pockets full of silverware. However, the room was simply lacking. It was not quite the same without Countess Nadia’s fingers gliding across the ivory keys with precision and grace. Instead of the haunting melodies of a grand piano and the idle chatter of the other courtiers, the room was filled with the distant echoes of intoxicated partygoers reciting a rather impolite folk song about a sea captain’s cousin.

However, Valdemar was paying little attention to the commotion outside and quietly sipped their tea. They chose instead to focus on the decorating choices they felt were an improvement. For example, the dying flowers wilting in waterless vases were a nice touch. Additionally, the portrait that Count Lucio had commissioned in his mother’s likeness had some alterations. It was laying waste on the ground below where it was once proudly hung. The vandalism was done with such intention that Valdemar was certain the count had crossed out the eyes himself. Valdemar pondered if he had done so in a fit of rage. The count had such a temper, and judging from his interaction with his mother, there was a lot of emotional baggage to unpack. While the symbolism was a tad on the nose, Valdemar appreciated the irony none-the-less. It was Lucio who murdered his own mother. It was only fitting he should be the one to remove the light from her portrait’s eyes too.

Without much warning, the doors of the salon burst open with a bang; shaking the few portraits that still hung on the walls. Yet, Valdemar sat unflinching despite the abrupt entrance from the count.

“Alright, I’ll catch you guys later.” called Count Lucio to a chorus of guttural cheers and whooping from the end of the hall. Valdemar peered at the count from over their teacup as they took a long sip. They had been wondering what was taking the count so long. He had been the one who had requested a meeting with them. To keep them waiting seemed in poor taste.

“Crazy guys.” chucked Lucio to himself before turning his attention to Valdemar. “Hey, there you are! Where have you been? You weren’t at last night’s party. You missed Vulgora tackling several new recruits. You should have seen them go at it. We were taking bets and everything.”

“Hm.” hummed Valdemar as they peered into their teacup, finding more interest in the way the tea leaves settled to the bottom of their cup than Lucio’s story. However, Lucio did not seem to notice as he reenacted the punches and kicks of last night’s tussle; knocking over a chair in the process. “But hey, don’t worry about missing it. They’ll probably do it again tomorrow night. You’re gonna love it.”

“I am sure, my count.” lied Valdemar.

Lucio seemed convince Valdemar was genuine, and with an exaggerated groan, he slumped into the chair next to them. Valdemar watched as he adjusted the scabbard on his waist, the end of which clanked aggressively on the hardwood floor. His legs then spread out for maximum comfort as he sunk into his seat. It would seem he was finally situated, and he looked merrily back at Valdemar expecting them to speak first. The quaestor closed their eyes. Admittedly, their patience was wearing thin. With a short sigh, they placed their teacup on the table and prepared themselves to address the count.

“Is there a reason you have called me here today, my count?” asked Valdemar as politely as they could muster.

A spark of realization lit in Lucio’s eyes. “Oh, yeah, that’s right! I gotcha something.” said Lucio as he started rummaging through a small satchel. “I felt like we left it kinda weird at that old broad’s house, and I been wanting to make it up to you.”

“Old broad?” whispered Valdemar to themself as they searched their lexicon for a translation.

“Yeah, you remember. I gave you her heart. I was weird about it, but you were just asking for your payment.” explained the count. “It is nothing amazing, really. You probably have twenty of ‘em, but I was traveling through the market, and I saw it, and I thought - do you know who would like this? Quaestor Valdemar - so, I got it. No big deal, ya know?”

From his bag, Lucio pulled out an adult human skull. Embedded in the eye sockets were large rubies that burned in the orange glow of the setting sun. The count placed his gift in Valdemar’s hand, who made quick note of the condition in which the skull was in. In short, it was nearly perfect. The dental work was most fascinating to Valdemar. Not a single tooth was crooked or missing. No sign of disease or decay. Whoever extracted this specimen knew what they were doing. Valdemar was so transfixed by the skull, they almost forgot Lucio was still in the room.

“Yeah, I thought you like that.” said Lucio as he leaned forward in his chair. “I got that off a guy who was selling all kinds of wild, kooky stuff.”

Valdemar was quiet as they studied the skull. They were far more impressed by the specimen itself than the embellishments. Gemology was not at the top of their list of the most appealing subjects, and frankly, they thought the rubies were rather gaudy.

As they pondered the feasibility of extracting the gemstones without damaging the bone, a visibly nervous Lucio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the silence between them.

“I -uh- I got it because the eyes remind me of your eyes.” said Lucio. As the words left his mouth, he instantly wished he had just swallowed them instead. He was not prepared for Valdemar's undivided attention. Their eyes were fixed on Lucio. Their expression was blank. Their entire form was eerily motionless. He immediately felt the need to elaborate. “Ya know, because the rubies are pretty - pretty like your eyes.”

To Lucio’s relief, the compliment was enough to break their stare. No one had ever called their eyes pretty before. Creepy. Unsettling. Unnatural. But never pretty. Pretty was a meaningless word. Pretty was objective. Pretty could not be measured. Pretty was unscientific. Yet, the word bounced around in their mind, unextrapolated and uncategorized. Valdemar wanted to dissect its meaning. They wanted Lucio to elaborate. What did it mean to have pretty eyes?

"Hey, is that thing broken?" asked Lucio. who had unknowingly grounded Valdemar from their slow spiral into the definition and interpretation of the word pretty.

"Pardon?" asked Valdemar.

"Did that bastard give me a busted skull?" asked Lucio gesturing to a fissure starting from the bottom of the eye socket across the cheekbone.

Realizing what the count was referring to Valdemar had to stifle a laugh. "No, that is a zygomaticomaxillary suture. You'll notice the second one, right here." They turned the skull to allow Lucio to see the other fissure reflected on the other cheekbone.

"Oh, so it's okay then? It's not broken?" asked Lucio.

"This specimen is in excellent condition." reassured Valdemar. A moment passed between them before the quaestor softly cleared their throat, and managed a polite thank you to the count. They fully intended to investigate the skull further for any clues of what may have lead to the specimen’s demise. They loved a good mystery. Afterwords, it would look lovely in their display cabinet - pretty ruby eyes and all.

“Right, so that guy I got this skull from. He has other things too. Goopy things in jars. Dead things in jars. Dead things out of jars. Drawings of bones and meaty parts. Books. Does any of that sound interesting to you?” asked Lucio.

Valdemar considered Lucio’s offer before replying, “I suppose that I am always in search for new specimens to add to my collection. Additionally, this could be an opportunity to ask the merchant where the rest of the remain’s of this specimen can be found.”

Their response seemed to greatly please the count as he leaned back in his chair. For the past few nights, he had done nothing but party - which he loved to do, and would surely want to do again - but sitting with Valdemar, as the sun lowered into the horizon felt nice. Not to mention, they knew a lot, which Lucio appreciated. Having them around could be quite helpful to keeping his kingdom. Additionally, he was curious as to what was under their bandages. His money was on horns, but it would be fun to confirm his suspicions.

“Great, I’ll take you down there sometime.” said Lucio. “And, if you see anything you like, consider it yours.”

While material possessions never interested Valdemar, the idea of discovering something new was quite alluring. Perhaps, the merchant had a sealed jar of an entirely forgotten disease, or maybe they would uncover an ancient tomb that described a real account of an unsolved death of an entire village. The more they thought about it, the more exciting the prospect became.

“Would now be an appropriate time?” asked Valdemar who had moved to the edge of their seat. Their body was stiff with anticipation, as they leaned over ever so slightly towards him. A coy smile spread on Lucio’s face. He knew the moment he agreed, Valdemar would be sprinting for the door. Frankly, it seemed cruel to make them wait another moment for his answer.

“I’ll have someone fetch two cloaks and a carriage.”

END.

#lucio x valdemar #devil!lucio x valdemar #valdemar x lucio #valdemar x devil!lucio #lucio #count lucio #devil!lucio #lucio the arcana #valdemar #quaestor valdemar #valdemar the arcana #courtiers #the courtiers #fluff #one shot #one-shot #fanfic #fanfiction

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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All in the Family

Chapter 84: The Second Task

James almost landed on his feet this time, stumbling forward madly in what could have been anything from icy slush, to mud, to quicksand, it was so shocking and repulsive to his bare feet, and quickly found himself face first with a solid block of water. He blinked dazedly several times as he rapped his fist against this new oddity, it didn't even come away wet, then screamed as his eyes adjusted through the murky swill to the sight of the four dead bodies.

He scrambled backwards so fast he found himself tripping right over someone and ruined any pretenses of clean that bath had given by now being covered head to toe in muck like everyone else, heart hammering out of his chest, unable to find his wand, and still looking right at them.

Sirius was trying to get madly to his side, wandless as well and feeling more naked for it than if his boxers had somehow vanished in between jumps this time, but finally getting unsteadily to his feet and hurrying over to Prongs to see the exact same thing. It was a horrifying sight to behold, and looking quickly down to see James uninjured and tangled up, nearly naked with Smith wasn't even distracting him.

Nobody else even looked down to notice the same yet, all eight of them were transfixed at the four floating figures tied down to a crude statue of a merperson carved into a boulder.

"Are they really-" Lily began in a quiet, broken voice, eyes on the little girl, she had to be younger than Regulus...

"N-no!" said Black's voice was shaking too much to even poster at his usually superior nature. "This, this must have something to do with, aha!"

He lunged forward for the book, held down by the blunt end of a trident so half buried in the muck as well as them, and pulled the now dirty blue binding free, instantly flipping it open to reveal the new chapter title, The Second Task.

"So, they had to come down here and find, people?" Frank started rubbing at his chest to get feeling back in it, now leaning against the barrier for support. "That's what they meant by recovering something taken? I bloody hate this tournament."

"I'm long since past," Alice promised, shivering in more than cold despite the mud clinging to her skin. "Mind getting off of me now Potter?"

"Eh?" He glanced down and seemed to realize he was keeping her pinned down, and dutifully rolled off with a quick uttered apology. Then his already pale visage went ever worse as he did a quick look around and didn't see his clothes anywhere, with his wand in it! Oh bloody hell, what happened to the shit they left behind, did they ever find out?!

"Here," James very suddenly found himself with Sirius's pants in his face. "Thought you idiots would like those back."

Sirius did not care that thanks to his brother he now knew what his sock tasted like, he quickly shoved his hands into every available pocket before coming up with Prongs's wand, looking over to see him doing the same with his own.

"You two really are idiots," Peter repeated as he watched Prongs get dressed. "What if he hadn't thought of that eh? And after Regulus went through all that trouble with his shoes?"

"We were having some bleeding fun for once," James scowled, his voice only slightly muffled by his shirt. "Maybe if you lot had joined, we all could have gotten zapped out of there at everyone's convenience!"

"That's all this is to you, isn't it? Fun," Regulus shook his head in disgust.

Neither of them answered, as they did not feel the need to explain themselves to him. Sirius huffily put his pants on and purposely turned away from him to go back studying the no longer dead, but still really, really dead-looking four.

"So, that's Ron and Hermione huh?" He said purposefully loudly to Remus. It was admittedly a guess, but not a wild one, considering the amount of times they'd been described. "Ron's taller than I pictured. Not hard to see why Harry's got a fancy for Cho though, she's a looker, eh Prongs?" Her's was much more wild in said guess, but if Ron and Hermione were down here, logically these were people the champions would care about.

"Eh," he barely cast another look at the girl with long dark hair, he was straightening his shirt and watching Evans, who was now studying the nearest merperson's house with great interest as it sank in for everyone where they must be. Beneath the Hogwarts lake.

It was far too dark down here to get a sense of anything too far from their little bubble of air, but what they could see was admittedly attention-grabbing. The seashells acting as a sort of roadway, the tangled seaweed much shorter than they'd have thought leading to the fun question of what they used to keep that cut down here, and even the houses were something few wizards had ever gotten the chance to see in such detail. The one closest to them was thatched together very cleanly, with no front door apparent.

"I don't understand why we're already at the second task when Harry has no idea what he's going to do to get down here," Frank was frowning heavily at the four victims still. "I'd have thought we'd get a whole chapter dedicated to that at this point."

"I'm not complaining, the sooner this is over, the better," Regulus muttered under his breath as he kept going through Harry's classes, his friends of no more clue than them how any of this was going to work out.

Remus' robes were now dripping with muck and water, he still wanted to kick Sirius for the impromptu bath, but he was frowning at him for a wholly other reason as instead of putting the Bagman jersey back on, he was flipping it this way and that with a frown.

"You don't have to keep showing off Sirius, you swimming around nearly starkers did that plenty," he reminded.

"This turd's been bothering me," he said off hand, before dropping it into the mud and crossing his arms. "Offering Harry all that help, avoiding the twins, something's up with him."

"So, what, you're going to run around shirtless now?" He laughed. "It's February up there Sirius, you'd die of frostbite in minutes."

"You'd keep me warm, wouldn't you Moony," he grinned, uncrossed his arms and leered at him, the scars visible on his chest courtesy of Remus making him wince and try to avoid looking at him.

"Your knackers would fall right off," Remus shot back, very proud he barely had a change in expression.

"You'd keep me warm," Sirius repeated, quite the opposite now with a salacious grin.

Remus was saved the tongue-twisting issue of responding to that by Sirius himself, but in the future. His return note to Harry was more than distracting enough to draw everyone's attention.

"Why do you want to know the Hogsmeade dates?" Evans actually asked of him.

"To take a stroll around, obviously," he rolled his eyes at what he clearly thought was a stupid question.

"And you don't find that the least bit dangerous?" Longbottom asked as if checking his sanity, which clearly slipped a few degrees when he answered.

"Nah, I know that place like the back of my hand. Honestly, can't believe I haven't met up with Harry in there yet."

Potter was now picking mud out of his nails without a care in the world, but at least Lupin and Pettigrew were looking at him with slight concern. It was good to know they weren't all insane, Regulus decided.

He continued on with more build-up instead, including a lesson from Hagrid over baby unicorns and another pep-talk from the gamekeeper. He couldn't help but sympathize heavily with Harry when he didn't ask for help because he was too afraid of disappointing Hagrid, if that wasn't the story of his life in the shortest words possible he didn't know what was. Bolstering quickly past that found the eight of them all laughing in surprise at Ron's response to this challenge.

They all looked affectionately at the redhead floating behind them, his absurd suggestion to just shove his head in the lake and ask for, well himself back was ludicrous, but seeing him here in person really put a funnier spin on that. They were all equally eyeing Hermione with great interest. Her bushy hair was hardly subdued by the deep water, it was almost strange to see her without a book in her hand, even in this place, as that's how they always pictured her in their head.

Frank and Alice would readily admit it was a blessing and a curse not to see Neville down here, to even have the image of how he'd look like this for even a second, while also getting to admire him in the closest thing they would get to see in person.

"Do you think, if we'd ever been in the hospital wing while she was petrified, we would have seen her then?" Alice asked.

"I imagine so," Frank shivered in further unease, thinking they'd look even more dead with their eyes open and glassy.

It was a shame, Lily thought, that they couldn't watch all of this happen in real time regardless, while they stayed hidden away or something. She'd have liked to see Harry ageing before them if that had been the case, but now it seemed she may not even get to see a picture of him at this rate, let alone in the flesh.

As the twins led Ron and Hermione away to McGonagall, presumably leading them down here, they all began looking even more anxiously at his friends. What would happen to whomever Harry was down here to grab if he couldn't accomplish this task? This tournament was still years above him after all, and these two wouldn't be in real danger if he couldn't win at a game, right?

Then Dobby was shaking Harry awake, and the poor kid was having to rush down to this tournament, fearing for his best friend's life while swallowing a what exactly? None of them had heard of gillyweed!

James couldn't stand the tension anymore, he ruffled up his hair, the wet and mud causing a hilarious mess as he suavely turned to Evans and told her, "you know, I'd still come down here and get you even if I didn't have magic to hold my breath for an hour."

She gave him a sour look for joking at a time like this, the boy really had no bounds.

This remark did have the effect of getting someone else's attention though.

"What do you mean it'd be Evans down here?" Sirius Black whined like a kicked puppy. He came over and gave his friend a good prod in the side to make sure he had his full attention.

"Oh come on Padfoot, we all know the merpeople would have murdered you out of sheer annoyance, even if you were asleep. At least I have a chance at getting her out in time," James Potter more than happily teased him.

Lily was watching all of this with a single raised brow and complete disbelief this idiot thought she needed anyone's help, he knew better than anyone what she was perfectly capable of. So then it really was just a show, one her, Alice, and Frank found themselves sucked into. By the time Harry had eaten the odd plant, gotten into the water, and found himself past the grindylows, almost all of the tension had been sapped out of them.

Now Harry was actually down in the village, the first one to do so, and honest fascination as first Krum showed up, transfigured into a shark! James could have kicked himself he hadn't thought of that one, he really had been worried. Then Cedric with something odd, like a fishbowl on his head, they'd never even heard of that one. Then Harry decided enough was enough, he wasn't going to leave the poor little Fleur junior girl down here and took matters into his own hands, dragging her and his best mate up.

It was nice to have the chapter end on such a happy note for once, Regulus decided, as Harry was awarded high marks for his act of bravery, even if he should have realized they wouldn't have just left the kids down here to die, obviously, he'd known that all along... the errant thought didn't stop his eyes from lingering on the four one last time as he warned the others he was almost done, their gaunt faces and the meaning they held leaving him with a sinking feeling heavier than the mud they were still standing in. It was obvious who Sirius would have down here, whom everyone around him would be able to really answer in an instant they'd pick. It was an obvious answer to everyone, except him.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #James Potter #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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leotssukinaga · 4 years

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Uno- Jumin Han

A/N: ngl I'm lowkey nervous about posting this? This is my first mysme fic, and it's probably not great but I hope its at least a little enjoyable!

Summary: Your first night at Jumin’s place would have been terribly dull, but you always come prepared. Who knew a simple game of Uno would be what forced him to confront his feelings?

Jumin hadn't expected to have fun playing Uno. He hadn't expected to ever actually play Uno, and if he was being honest he hadn't even known the game existed until you pulled it from your bag. Tonight seemed to be the night of defying expectations, though, since you being here at all had come as a shock. The guilt he felt at having nothing to entertain you increased over the first half-hour the two of you sat in silence, leading him to offer an apology. You waved him off with a sweet laugh and then, soon after, an exclamation- of joy or of realisation he wasn't sure- as you dove into the bag you'd brought with you. "I never go anywhere without it!" You explained proudly, holding the small red box up for him to inspect. "...Uno?" "It's a card game." He was thankful for the explanation. "Isn't it.. for children?" You frowned at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

"Fun doesn't have an age limit, Jumin. C'mon, I promise if you hate it I won't make you play." He wouldn't have conceded, not for anyone else, but you were admittedly his weak point. He nodded. Your smile was worth whatever he was about to endure. "D'you mind if I put some music on?" "Not at all." He'd regret that later, when he noticed that you sang while you shuffled the cards, when your voice had him falling deeper than he'd realised he could go, when you glanced up at him between verses and grinned before turning your attention back to the cards. Music had never been high on his list, especially not the kind you were playing, but he found himself wishing he could record your singing and listen to it on repeat. Or at the very least, hear you sing around the house sometimes. Maybe your singing wasn't the important factor. Maybe he just wanted you.

"Jumin, you're not listening to me." He was pulled from his thoughts by your words, and he realised you'd been talking for a while. "I'm sorry, MC, I was distracted. Could you repeat that, please?" He listened carefully this time as you explained the rules of the game, and promised him he'd pick it up. "If my 80-year-old grandpa can do it, I'm sure you can scrape through." "You might have too much faith in me." You chuckled, loud and angelic, and God, it was nice to have someone laugh at his jokes, even nicer to have that someone be you; his mind drifted back to the idea of a life with you, one where he heard that laugh every single day until he turned deaf or died. Having you right in front of him was making him confront feelings he'd been trying very hard to ignore. "You're distracted tonight. Are you still thinking about your father?" "No its... nothing. You don't need to worry about me." "I'll always worry about you, Jumin." If he was the type to blush he would have right then, but he simply smiled at you, small and barely visible but definitely there. You cursed yourself for how your heart fluttered at the sight.

Several rounds of Uno- most of which were won by you- later, he realised he was enjoying himself. He couldn't be sure how much of that enjoyment could be attributed to your presence, but it would be safe to wager that the percentage was rather high. From the way you muttered a curse when he made you draw, to the way you said 'here's looking at you, kid' with a smirk before playing a wild card (you'd explained it as a reference to a movie he was sure he'd never seen. He would find himself researching it a few days later.), to the way you genuinely seemed proud when he beat you. All of it was contributing to the growing feeling settling in his chest that you were everything he wanted and more, that anything he'd ever found himself missing was in your eyes. That he loved you, and that he wasn't as terrified of that as he thought he would be.

The night dwindled by as you played, losing track of everything but scoring. It was only when you yawned mid-play that he realised how late it was getting, and concern overtook the warmth in his chest. "You should sleep." "I'm not-" you were cut off by a yawn, disproving your words before you'd even got them out, "tired." "Lying about that usually works better when you don't yawn, MC." You giggled at him- why did you have to have such a wonderful laugh- a hand reaching up to rub your eyes. "You're cute when you're bossy." That floored him. Cute? You thought he was cute? He searched your face for any sign of jest, but none could be found. This time, he did blush, though your exhaustion led you to miss it. "You can sleep on my bed, come with me." Anxiety flooded your chest at the brushing off of your compliment. Had you said the wrong thing? You were glad he was walking away from you, glad he couldn't see you nervously biting your nails as you began to overthink. At least, he couldn't until he turned around to look at you. You hadn't even noticed that you'd both stopped walking until he was crouching in front of you, forcing your eyes to meet his by inserting himself into your line of sight. He took your wrist in his, gently pulling your hand away to stop the nail-biting. "What is it?" The irony that you were both feeling the same anxieties wouldn't be recognised by either of you, concern and worry occupying too much of your minds to register that you were having the same thoughts. "Have I made you uncomfortable? I apologise if I have." The concern on his face and in his voice wiped your anxieties away. If he’d been upset with you he probably wouldn’t be so worried. He certainly wouldn’t have let it show. "No, you haven't Jumin. I'm just... it's not important. I'm tired." He let it go despite his concern, not wanting to make things worse, and offered to read to you to help you sleep. He was delighted to have you take up the offer. And once you drifted off, who was there to comment on the time he spent simply watching you sleep, daydreaming about a future with you in it? And of course, who was to say that in your dreams, you weren't thinking about the exact same thing.

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han #han jumin #jumin mm #mm jumin #jumin mysme #mysme jumin #jumin han x mc #jumin han x reader #jumin x mc #jumin x reader

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tardytothepardy · 3 years

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Fruits Basket - Vol.12

Compared to the previous book, this one was a lot lighter. It also featured Kagura, who hasn't really been in the series for a while. She kinda showed up for a little bit in the previous book but it wasn't much. It's not necessarily that I like her but she used to be around a lot, then she just kinda poofed away. In this volume, we discuss fun things like breaking curses (or trying to, anyway) and parent-teacher conferences! Exciting stuff, right?

We start off with Tohru meeting with Kazuma to ask about the curse, if he can help at all. She's doing all of this as secretly as she can, because she knows that if anyone finds out, they will try to stop her, either in a "Agh I'll kill you for trying to meddle with these things!" way or a "Ah you don't know what you're getting into, stay out if you value your safety!" way. Either way, it'd get in her way. (how many times can i say "way" .-.) During this talk, Kazuma says that Akito has a strange power over the Juunishi, that his words really do have a heavy weight on them, something that even Kazuma, despite being a Sohma (but not a Juunishi), can't fully understand. They're all tied together, in a bond. That is part of the curse. But because of this extra power that Akito can assert over the rest of the Juunishi, it makes it extra difficult to figure out how to help them break the curse. Later, as Tohru leaves, our local Horse Girl, Izusu shows up, asking what the fuck Tohru was doing. It seems as if Izusu is also trying to break the curse. Spicy.

Since we were already at Kazuma's,, dojo? Should I call it that? I don't know, but Kyo and Kagura are also there, because they practice kicking butt at least three times a week. What a ritual. Kagura asks if she and Kyo can talk somewhere, which works well with Kyo, since he was planning on talking to her anyway, but she insists that they go out on a "date", wherein she takes them to a place that I guess they played at when they were kids? Something like that.

During this scene, we get to know why exactly Kagura has been latched onto Kyo throughout this series, and she admits that it was sort of out of pity for him. She herself didn't like the fact that she is a Juunishi (is that how I should phrase it I'm not sure about that either), but when she saw Kyo out in the yard area, drawing fried eggs, apparently, all alone, she felt worse for him than she did herself. She knew that he was the cat, and that he was treated worse than she really ever would. And so, she took pity on him. Maybe she didn't fully realize or intend for that in the beginning, maybe she just saw Kyo all alone, and wanted to get to know the orange haired boy drawing fried eggs in the dirt, because, hey, who wouldn't?

But over time, it definitely became that way. Everything changed significantly when she pulled Kyo's bracelet off, the one that keeps him from being in his dark form or something (is it like a light switch or something does he really have no control over that like i know at the time he was just a little kid but like,,, currently in the story. does he have any control whatsoever?), and she promptly got quite scared (understandably), and ran off. Afterwards, she just kinda pretended that it didn't happen (Kyo's mom did that too, I just remembered), and for some reason decided that if she was as close to Kyo as she possibly could get, that all of that stuff would go away, and that Kyo would like her. As we know, that did not happen.

One big reason that I was glad about the scene is that Kagura is admitting to herself but also to Kyo that she was being selfish. She apologizes for her actions, and is aware that she was acting that way in some part (however big or small) for her own peace of mind, for her own gain, potentially. She still says that she loves him, which I'm not here to debate. That's her own business. Kyo just thanked her for saying that, but also made it clear that he never really did and still doesn't feel the same way at all. So thankfully that's all been put away. For now, anyway.

I mentioned our local Horse Girl earlier, and she does come up more in this story. Apparently, when Yuki was younger, for some reason, people weren't really allowed to visit him. Maybe it was just a thing that happened as part of a punishment, or maybe it was something else, but basically Haru would go like "That rule doesn't apply to me because I can't read!" and see him anyway, and sometimes Izusu would also be there. She wouldn't talk to either of them, she would just sit in the corner for a while, then leave. At the time, it didn't make much sense, but within this book, we find that she was actually listening to people outside the room, and if she heard anyone come too near, she would go out and distract them so that Haru could leave without punishment. So our local Horse Girl does care <3

Speaking of the parent-teacher conferences, Tohru's grandpa can't go. Why not? Because he threw out his back, probably from all the energetic dancing he does in a day (i mean they didn't say how he hurt his back so,, dancing. i'm deciding it's from dancing), but this is a bit of a problem for Tohru, seeing as she no longer has parents that would go. Valiantly, Shigure offers to take her grandpa's place, mostly so that he can see Mayu's reaction to his general existence. (Specifically her look of disgust. Admittedly, it was pretty good.) The conference goes over fairly well, with Mayu telling Tohru to not take on too many things at once, which is true. Tohru is running around here thinking that she isn't pulling her weight as if she isn't part of the reason why Yuki and Kyo aren't constantly fighting, or the fact that, just by existing and being the ray of sunshine that she is, she's helped basically everyone she's come into contact with to strive to be their best selves. Sure, Tohru, you're slacking soo much. (Honestly it's probably one of those things where she wouldn't really be aware of it, since she's only known these people to be the way they are since knowing her. Like, she's noticed that people are changing, but she doesn't know how much they've really changed, so it makes sense, but still. Girly is doing lots and she doesn't even know it.)

The conferences go over pretty well, but Yuki's mom had it changed to a later date. Yuki has already been having some struggles with it all, because he's going to have to be around his mom, who he does not have a great relationship. There's some mention of her making decisions for him, and I imagine in the next book that will shine fantastically. It seems that Ayame is going to pop up, though, and hopefully that will work in his favor.

As it is currently, Hanajima said she thought Kazuma, who showed up for Kyo's parent-teacher conference bc let's all be honest he's basically Kyo's dad at this point, was handsome. Also apparently people say that Uotani should be a model. She said that she's trying to get to six feet tall (as if that's a conscious decision that you have much control over??), and so she just said she wants to do that when she's older. Be a model, that is, not be six feet tall. Agh, grammar. It's weird.

Later, Tohru visited her grandpa, and talked about her parents. I think it was mostly a dream that she was talking about, and how they got along. I thought it was interesting, because as a whole, if Tohru is talking about her family, it's usually only about her mother. I'm anticipating that later on, there could be more of a focus on the rest of her family, or, at least, her father. Who was he? Was he an awful human being and good riddance, or something else? Hopefully it's just "something else", I'm not sure how many "awful human being and good riddance" characters I can handle.

Anyway, for some reason, after Tohru left her grandpa's place, and was all overwhelmed with emotions and memories, Kyo showed up. What was he doing there? I dunno. She asked him why he was there, and he just said that she's tiny and skinny. Nothing to do with anything, but whatever.

This feels so disorganized, but that was mostly what happened. I feel like I list things out too much, drawing out on every detail, and I think I'm trying to reign myself in. Unless someone does want a play-by-play run down of this series, in which case I'd still probably be lacking in something. I dunno.

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elliepassmore · 3 years

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A War of Swallowed Stars review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: multiple POVs, sci-fi, space operas, morally gray characters, mythology, LGBTQ+ characters, trilogies Note: there will be spoilers for previous Celestial Trilogy books in this review.

A Spark of White Fire review

A House of Rage and Sorrow review

Steel and Flowers review

TW: ableism I was so nervous coming into this one because 1) we still hadn't seen all of the curses come to fruition yet, and 2) I was expecting at least one character to die in the book. While both of these were valid things to be nervous about, I'm actually pleased with how both played out and Mandanna even managed to surprise me with 1) (okay, and admittedly in some areas of 2) as well). I feel in some ways this book was darker than the other two, which is saying something because House, especially at the end, was pretty dark. However, in this one our favorite cast of characters is facing problems from multiple sources, not least of which include Alexi and Sorsha. On top of that, Esmae, Amba, and Titania have to deal with the shit that went down at the end of House, so the three of them in particular are in some rough spaces in the book. This is a bit of a tangent, but the 'bowstring thumb' thing confused me a lot until I got about 1/2-2/3 way through the book. I've done archery before, but I've only learned Western techniques and so am not super familiar with the way other cultures do it. I assumed Esmae and co. were knocking their arrows using their index and middle fingers and drawing using those (or those + ring finger)...which would mean the thumb plays no part in knocking, drawing, or shooting. It wasn't until someone showed Esmae how to shoot the way I described above where it clicked that they were using a totally different method (and then I looked up traditional Indian archery techniques and.....uh.....yeah, you need a thumb for that). I was glad that got an additional explanation in this book, though, because I think I might've remained lost (or eventually remembered the internet exists and looked it up). Esmae and Alexi got to talk a bit more in this one than they did in the last one, which I think was good, though admittedly it could've been better. Esmae really gets a chance to let loose on some of the things she thinks about him, particularly his desire to be seen as the 'golden boy' as well as his seeming inability to contradict/think outside of their mother. Frankly, she's right and I don't think Alexi ever really gets it (which is kind of funny considering both Leila Saka and Kyra said something similar to him). I thought their dynamic was interesting in this one and it kind of came full-circle in a way. Esmae still wants Alexi destroyed, but she also still wants peace (or at least doesn't want Kali and its people hurt/destroyed), whereas Alexi still isn't willing to settle for a compr0mise. I will say, this might be one of the few books where I think the author actually could've written more and the book would not have suffered. The way things are resolved in the end re: the crown, Kali, and Esmae and Alexi could have, I think, used a bit more page time to explore. There is an epilogue-esque kind of ending that takes place months later, but it doesn't really focus on those things and I do wish we'd gotten to see more of that. Perhaps another short story at some point in the future? Onto individual character analyses, Esmae is, as mentioned, not really in a great place when the book opens (and I don't just mean physically). She does initially rebound fairly quickly, but everything that's been happening over the past three books does collapse back on her and we get to see the psychological toll that it's taken. Also as mentioned, she still wants to destroy Alexi, but she also takes a moment to reassess things and is willing to try something other than all-out war if possible. Esmae also has to struggle with having lose her 'bowstring thumb' and re-learning how to do certain things with a prosthetic. The process frustrates her and we do get a sense of her loss, but she's also willing to train and work to get to a place where she can still fight, whether it's with her left hand or a different way of using her right. Esmae develops as a character throughout each book and that development is really seen here as she starts to grow away from the solely revenge-driven person she had been in House. Titania gets a POV again in this book and also gets more chapters from her POV. As a ship it's hard to remember how young she is, but she really is just a child still and has seen so much. She yearns to be human, but also knows she's useful as a ship and wants to be able to help Esmae and Max and everyone with the coming war. Despite not being happy with what happened at Arcadia at the end of the last book, Titania seemed to have used Esmae's disappearance as a way to distract herself/rebound and for most of the book she's the same bubbly Titania we've always known. Things do change, as they must, but Titania remains a big part of the story. Radha also gets a POV, which was somewhat surprising as I'd been expecting Sybilla to be a POV character. However, Radha is able to give insight into events and people that the other characters cannot. For instance, at the end of the last book, Radha went back to Wychstar, and so we get to see what's going on there as well as some of the other political events that she's privvy to but that other characters either aren't or don't bother with. I liked seeing inside her head because she is a nice person and she is loyal to Esmae and her new friends on Kali, but also has moments when she doubts herself. Her interactions with Sybilla are fun to read since they have very different dispositions and Radha knows exactly how to tongue-tie Sybilla. Sybilla, while still thorny, lets herself show more emotion in this one. She and Esmae's friendship is perfect and Sybilla offers a good amount of gentleness and hard truths. I feel like we see less of her in this book, though, and I would have liked to see more. I enjoyed reading as she became more open to other people and expressed that softer side of herself. Max underwent some development as well, and while he still prefers peace, we do get to see him in battle a little. Like with Sybilla, I wish we saw more of him in this book, but at least the parts that we do see are rich in content and characterization. I've always appreciated his general demeanor when it comes to Esmae and continue to do so in this book. War is, obviously, not what he wanted, but he's still willing to support whatever she decides. It's also fun to see him and Amba interact more since she's always around now. Alexi is, understandably, frustrating. I mentioned above that he very much cares what others think and that he listens a little too much to Kyra. He's also generally unwilling to listen to anyone else. He does do some good things in the book, don't get me wrong, but he does a lot in this book and misunderstands a lot. I suppose we could say the same of Esmae, but, obviously, we're getting things from Emsae and her friends' POVs, so Esmae's faults seem/feel different than Alexi's. (I should note, it is mostly (entirely?) Alexi and his side of things that engage in the ableism mentioned above) Bear is still pretty much the same he's been in the last two books. He's tied between loyalty to Alexi and loyalty to Esmae. He loves them both and doesn't want either of them fighting and, I think, could himself make a pretty good negotiator/peacemaker given the time and page space. He matters a lot to Alexi and Esmae, which is another reason I think he could've mended things, but he has even less page time here than in House so that isn't his role. Also, while he is stuck in the middle of the two sides, he does consistently chose Alexi, even if he does help Esmae at times. Thus, while he is caught between the two and perhaps could have helped stopped the war, he is also too strongly on Alexi's side for much of his Alexi-Esmae-get-along desires to work out. Sorsha can't really be discussed without spoilery things being revealed. I did like the idea of a space dragon who eats stars, so that was pretty cool. Overall, I did like the book and thought that it was a nice, fitting conclusion to the trilogy. I do wish it had been a bit longer so that we could get more page time with some of the characters, have a bit longer build up to the climax, and then see how things played out a little more after things got (mostly) resolved.

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shibalen · 4 years

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hi! sorry for sending in 4 asks last time! here’s take 2: can i rq an ohshc & mha matchup? i’m she/her. i prefer males, please! i’m around 4'10", shoulder length black hair & dark brown eyes. personality-wise, i’m not very expressive & seem apathetic unless i’m close to someone. i can act really childish & immature with people i’m close to, & i love teasing/pulling pranks on my friends. i’m a very messy person + i swear a lot. i like horror, psychological thrillers & action comedies. ♡ part 1!

random information; i’m a cancer. intj-t/intp-t. kind of changes. 3w4. ravenclaw + slytherin. i also really like spicy food- i dislike crowds & parties. i’m a very competitive person as well. i can be quite the sadist asdfghjk- i like cats too :,) i can play the piano & i have basic knowledge of a few other instruments. i like to draw, sing & sometimes write. i’m bad at comforting people- i give sorta good advice, but i always sound harsh. + i’m a night owl- i hate waking up in the morning. ♡ 2!

forgot to add: i’d like a romantic matchup please! i have a dog, but i prefer cats more. i can speak filipino, english, basic japanese & a teensy bit of swedish. i like indoor dates, but i also like dates in public aquariums & zoos! i’m also interested in things science-related, mostly biology, chemistry or anything space-related. i think that’s it. thanks in advance!! ♡ 3!

♡︎ matchup for @cherrycolaxo

howdy! that's okay, i understand the length can easily slip! i'm sorry your matchup took me almost two months to get to—hopefully it is worth the wait |ω･`)

|| ohshc: i match you with . . .

umehito nekozawa

• it was the matching first impressions vs reality that influenced me the most to put you together !! you both appear intimidating at first but in truth you're different and a lot more than what people make of you.

• i also think you can be a positive influence on Nekozawa. he is not good with people but your free-spirited nature encourages him to try a bit harder ♡︎

• he was looking for members for the black magic club when you first met. he asked you to join, expecting to be let down again, but then you agreed!

• instead of finding him creepy you thought he was an interesting character and that the club could be fun. plus, the Beelzenef puppet was cute; you got your own（ΦωΦ）

• through club activities you got to know each other and grew close. Nekozawa was scared to take the subject elsewhere than black magic at first, but soon learnt you share your love for cats and horror, and dislike for crowds.

• he felt like someone finally understood him outside his family and liked him despite his strange ways.

• likes to talk about your interests as well as the languages you speak. though into the supernatural, Nekozawa probably educated himself on science so he would know how seperate the two. now he's glad it's come in handy again.

• was admittedly taken off-guard by your change of character. you began teasing him playfully and pulling harmless pranks on him, and boy was just extremely confused????

• until he understood that's how you show you think of him as someone close. he cried.

• with you his days became more lively, and he learnt to enjoy himself. finds it hardcore that you can be a bit sadistic. a good trait for cursing people!

• once taught you russian to scare Tamaki who was convinced you were putting a voodoo spell on him.

• "mommy, there's two of them now!!!"

• you can't tell me wasn't crushing on you for months before he finally tried to do something about it. his dark soul could not handle the fluffy and fuzzy feelings consuming his being.

• proceeded to make the mistake of asking the host club for help and utterly embarrassed himself when trying to confess to you. it was chaos.

• you had to chase him down for two weeks before he agreed to show his face to you again.

• the rest is history. welcome to the dark side (ฅº￦ºฅ)

• your dates usually take place indoors because you both prefer it that way. despite his photophobia, Nekozawa occasionally manages to overcome his extreme goth levels to visit the aquarium with you.

• night dwellers™

• you skip school parties to practice black magic and tell stories in the dark, candle-lit club room. most students just assume you're in a cult now.

• the best person to share your drawings and writing with. he gets excited about everything you're willing to show him and actually gives great feedback, especially if it's magic or horror related.

• writes you dark and romantic poems. leaves them for you to find sometimes with a black rose next to the piece of paper ♥︎

• also says i love you by telling you to stay safe whenever you go outside and he can't come with you.

• you have to insinuate anything beyond hand-holding for a while though, because as much as Nekozawa wants to show you physical affection, he's too shy.

• you stop doing it though eventually, just to tease him, so you're surprised when he awkwardly nuzzles Beelzenef against your cheek.

• he got paranoid and thought you lost interest in him to be with the host club

• just kiss the puppet back and he's happy for the next three days. when embarrassed or shy he'll also use the puppet to convey his emotions. you've come to be a pro at reading puppet expressions.

• romantically your relationship advances slow and steady. it's very stong, built from lots of memories, trust and mutual understanding.

• tbh he doesn't need the sun when he's got you to brighten up his life ♥︎

runner up: Hikaru Hitachiin

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

|| bnha: i match you with . . .

denki kaminari

• your personalities fit together like chocolate and vanilla ice-cream. you add the richness and denki the sweetness to the taste — in result your combination has the best flavor!

• the moment Denki first laid eyes on you he thought you were supe cute, so naturally his mind went 'a person who looks like she doesn't want to be talked to? *cracks knuckles* imma 'bout the change that.'

• your apathetic demeanor didn't throw him off his game, no sir. he just kept talking, flirting and hanging around you until you warmed up to him.

• quest accomplished :D

• i mean, he thought it was attractive how chill you were in the beginning, but uncovering that childish, prankster side of you was like finding a real gem ♡︎

• you can be chaotic together now! loves that you're not afraid to curse. so badass.

• developing feelings for you was an entirely different story, however. they came so naturally as you hung out that when Mina brought it up Denki just short-circuited.

• "You and y/n hang out a lot right?"

• "Yeah, we're super close!"

• "So you like her?"

• "Of course!"

• "Are you finally gonna ask her on a date then?"

• cue surprised pikachu face

• needless to say, he asked you on that date right away the next weekend. you went to the zoo, and he did a bunch of research beforehand to impress you.

• was still shooketh that he only just realised his feelings for you so all his attemps to be smooth were yeeted out the window.

• you still thought it was sweet how genuinely hard he tried to make your day enjoyable so thanked him with a kiss on the cheek.

• boy almost lost his final braincell from the shock and happiness.

• a very doting boyfriend! the type to be at your door with your favourite snacks at 2am if you text him you had a bad day.

• you don't even have to say anything because as your best friend/boyfriend he knows how you act when under the weather.

• even if you're just fine Denki is always down to clown with you. night owls as you are, midnight adventures to. mcdonalds and watching action comedies til the sun comes up are common (even on school nights, especially on school nights)

• 10/10 will do the 'i'm just stetching and yawning oops my arm is around your shoulder now haha'

• he's a bit scared of thrillers and horror though. please cuddle this bby he likes it very much when he has an excuse to be so close to you.

• when you walk together you hold hands. he doesn't want you to disappear or feel uncomfortable in the crowd. gets an ego boost cause he feels like he's protecting you. also, holding your hand is just really . . . nice.

• listens to you play the piano and sing all the time (you play so well and your voice is so pretty?? how??), other times you jam out together and you've got yourselves a chill date.

• he finds it so cool that you're into so many science-related subjects :0 he may not know much about them himself but he's proud that you do.

• will brag to anyone and everyone about how smart you, his girlfriend, are.

• matching phone cases, matching t-shirts, matching outfits, just end me why you gotta be so wholesome💀

• your dog loves him, so you take lots of walks together in the park. watching those two play is the sweetest!

• prank wars everywhere anytime! it's a subtle and continuous thing between you two, always competing who comes up with the best prank.

• don't worry about being a bit sadistic or harsh with your advice. if Bakugo's words don't bother him then neither will yours. he thinks you're much nicer than him, plus your advice is better.

• on that note, welcome to the bakusquadヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪

• as much as he likes it when you get along with his friends and hang out with them, Denki doesn't forget the importance of quality time. he will always have time for you ♡︎

runner up: Tokoyami Fumikage

thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoyed the read!! any feedback you might have is welcome. also, remember to drink water ♡︎

#i do headcanon that denki's somewhat familiar with physics considering his quirk #the chocolate-vanilla thing is my personal opinion #pls don't kill me #matchups #len's matches #ohshc #bnha #anime matchups #denki kaminari #umehito nekozawa

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gravityfissure · 4 years

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Wildest Dreams : Otto & Ariana

TIMING: Current. PARTIES: Otto & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana and Otto catch up at Layla and Luke’s birthday but things don’t seem quite right.

By all indications, the party was wildly a success. Ariana had to shake away the creeping concern that Layla could return to her hypnotized self at any moment, but she was having fun. It looked like everyone else was, too-- especially Luke, who more than anyone, deserved to have a blast on his birthday. How many years had gone by celebrating alone because he was in hiding? She’d make sure he never had to do that again. He was loved and she was determined to continue reminding him of this fact. Somehow, something felt off though. She couldn’t quite shake an uneasy feeling and she wasn’t quite sure why the recipes to all the bars cocktails were flying through her mind. She’d never even heard of half of them. She shrugged it off and approached Otto behind the bar. “Any good non alcoholic drinks for your favorite teen wolf,” she joked.

By Otto’s estimations it seemed like things were going well, admittedly by his standards it was a bit of a tame party but those for whom it had been thrown seemed content and at the end of the day it was their happiness that mattered. So he’d contented himself with tormenting Noah and Nate with inappropriately named cocktails for absolutely no other reason beyond he simply could. It was entertaining to watch the blush and bluster that came when the aptly named blow-job was presented with the criteria it be drunk sans hands. Though a pesky thought and concern for Layla kept gnawing at the back of his mind, frustrating considering… well, he didn’t really care about this Layla girl in any true capacity. Not when there were far more enjoyable people to pay attention to… Luke for example. That said, Otto was drawn out of his appreciation by Ari’s approach and he leaned up a little more on the bar considering her for a moment. “Well… Since you helped organise this and the fact no one’s looking…. Maybe I’ll treat you. Just don’t tell anyone I broke the rules hey?” He tilted his head “what do you fancy little wolf?”

For some reason, Ariana was stuck with thoughts of making inappropriate shots for Noah and Nate… which gross. Nate was like old and Noah was like the jock of a big brother she never knew she needed. Her nose scrunched up in disapproval even though her mind was egging the whole thing on. It was odd having her thoughts feel out of place in her own head, but she ended up smirking as she watched them down their blow job shots. Boys. They at least provided a good distraction from staring at Layla who was moping against the wall and chatting with Ulf. Part of her wanted to wish her a happy birthday while a larger part was still fuming. Still, she leaned against the bar and smiled at Otto. There was a devious spark in her eyes when he mentioned turning an eye. She knew better than to try and pull one over on him with her fake, but this worked out even better. “I knew you were pretty cool,” she joked, really Otto was probably cooler than she was, but she didn’t care about that, “Anything citrus-y sounds delicious to me.” She spared a glance over toward Layla again. Frankie was with her now and things seemed to be getting heated. Frankie had every right to be pissed at Layla. Now was just the worst possible time for it. Who knew just how strong the compulsion on Layla was. Last thing she needed was the headache of her turning all bad girl on them again.

Otto couldn’t understand why his thoughts kept going to Layla, who by appearances from what he could see seemed more concerned with staying out of everyone’s way rather than anything else. What was there to worry about after all and why did he feel annoyed whenever he thought about her? It was strange, she’d be one of many people he didn’t know that had been on his mind lately. Namely her sock-smelling ground beef. The memory earned a small wrinkle of his nose. “Just trying to add to my street cred with the pack,” he joked light-heartedly. “Citrusy, coming right up.” It wasn’t hard to fix a drink up and Otto returned after a moment sliding a blueberry lemonade sangria over the counter with one for himself. His eyes drifted over to the pair near the side of the party, lowering his voice to speak to Ariana without drawing too much attention “don’t think we’re going to have trouble are we?”

Everything in her head seemed to be confusing her right now. Ariana knew her concern for Layla was well placed, but every so often feelings or thoughts she didn’t quite relate to slipped in. Maybe the drink Otto was making her would do the trick. She laughed and explained, “I think with this party and that wolfy GPS thing you did, you’ve got plenty of pack street cred, but I’ll still take it.” When he returned with the drink, she felt herself begin to relax a little bit. It smelled like lemons and berries. It tasted even better. The alcohol even made it a bit novel. “Thanks.” Her smile was pretty wide until he mentioned troubles and guessed maybe her concern had been written all over her face. She looked down at the bar momentarily, debating on what to say, before she opted for the truth. She owed Otto more favors than she cared to count at this point. “I mean, probably not. I’m a little worried the compulsion on Layla won’t hold and she’ll go back to being hypnotized and kinda… how do you say psychotic bitch nicely?”

“Well, a little extra never hurts does it?” Otto joked while taking a sip of his drink as he surveyed the people at the party, mingling and chatting and seemingly having a good time. His brows pulled together a fraction with Ari’s admission, “like that probably. But compulsion? What happened there?” Unfortunately any further explanation was cut off as a crashing din from the other side of the party echoed through the space as a redhead he hadn’t admittedly paid much attention to shoved another individual that had been getting in her face over one of the tables that had been set out. “Oi! The fuck? Stop that!” he yelled, pushing up from his leaning perch on the bar. “Pete?” he looked around for the weasley looking demon (who was freakishly strong despite his wayward appearance) that typically sorted most scuffles out, But he couldn’t find him. “That what you mean by psychotic bitch?”

“Before you know it, you’re gonna be an honorary pack member,” Ariana responded playfully before she took another sip of her drink. Somehow hers and Nell’s joke of my wolves, my witches, and my bitches seemed to apply yet again. While she wasn’t keen on explaining, after that she did owe some sort of explanation and Otto looked confused. She shrugged slightly and answered, “She got hypnotized by a cursed fidget spinner. Ulf knows a vampire who compelled her to be like normal so she stops trying to destroy the town until we figure out how to break the hypnosis.” Hearing the crash in the corner, she let out a groan. Her leg was still throbbing and her stitches were still fresh. Judging by Otto’s reaction, she was pretty sure this venue wouldn’t be an option for future parties. “Ugh, yes, that just about covers it. I’ll get her out of here.” So much for a fun evening. She darted across the dance floor and let out a small yelp as a pain shot through her leg. There went her stitches. Dr. Lin-King was going to kill her. “Layla, stop it!” Her shouts seemed to fall of deaf ears. Why were none of the other wolves reacting? Where were Ulf and Miles? Even Luke or Winn would be a huge help right about now.

“Aawh, do I get a badge? I feel like I should get an honorary pack member badge. Tell me you guys have patches or something cool.” Otto’s smile was lopsided as he sipped his drink. “What the fuck? A cursed fidget spinner? Who would… actually scratch that I can think of plenty of people who’d do that…” His eyes returned to the girl for a moment. “Huuuh, and it’s working?” Crash. Oh. Maybe he’d spoken too soon. A single incident was hardly room for barring from future occasions, maybe just this Layla girl until she got her shit together. “I’ll help,” he said hoping that Thierry might be able to cover the bar for the time being while he followed Ariana. Everyone else seemed lost in conversation, paying no attention to the scene unfolding at one side of the room. Otto hated getting into altercations but it felt like it was happening more and more of late. “Come on… There’s no need for this let’s just--” he raised his hands in the hopes of a quick charm, but when he reached for the familiar tethers found there was… nothing there to grasp. “What the??” so perplexed by this development he missed the fist that was being swung straight towards his face cracking as it impacted and knocked him stumbling into the wall grasping his face. “Ow- what the fuck ?”

Normally, Ariana would have had a quip in response to the badge thing, but Layla’s outburst drew her attention. Making sure Layla didn’t hurt anyone was top priority and where the hell did Ulfric go? The other wolves seemed to be pretty content and too drunk to notice the scene Layla was about to cause. “Pie prize contest. Don’t know why they cursted a fucking fidget spinner,” she grumbled as she tried to ignore the sharp pain in her leg. She had to stop Layla, she could already see the claws coming out as she threw one of the tables. Otto was trying to reason with her, but she could hear the snarl coming from the redhead. Fuck, this wasn’t good. They were in a public place. They couldn’t just wolf out here. What if there was a hunter? They’d both get killed. Panic rose in Ariana and she instinctively lunged toward Layla to tackle her to the ground, but ended up on the ground herself as Layla dodged.

Otto could only stare in abject horror as the scene seemed to go into slow motion. The young woman’s features growing more animalistic, jagged rows of teeth belonging to a snarling muzzle turning in their direction, as fur began to sprout forth and a rather charming appearance became something much more terrifying in her apparent rising anger. “Uuuuh Ari?” Where were the other wolves when you needed them? This was not what he needed tonight. It was meant to be a chilled party with no drama. What was so hard about that? He reached again, trying to find some tether of familiarity of his power but again none came. There was a singular moment of isolating paranoia and fear, was this really how it was going to end. Fuck no. Get a grip of yourself. He backed up right at the same point a claw lashed out, his hand instinctively throwing up to try and counter but instead the claws racked over his arm and he recoiled with a pained hiss, “Ari! Get this under control!” because I sure as hell can’t.

Watching Layla transform into a wolf mid party left her both seething in anger and terrified for those around them. “Layla, stop it! Now” Ariana called out. She shifted her focus to trying to change her own form. For some reason, she couldn’t seem to connect with the wolf that was part of her. What was going on? The ginger wolf was charging directly toward her and she was completely defenceless. Not even her instinctive fight or flight seemed to be able to coax her wolf out. What the hell was going on? Panic made her heartbeat race. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the feeling the moon always gave her. She pushed herself to transform, but she stood there, unmoving and unable to connect with the animal inside. There was no way she could fist fight a fucking wolf. The other wolf sent her body thudding to the ground and Ariana winced at the fangs bared in her face. If her wolf didn’t come out, she’d be torn to pieces in no time followed by the rest of the bar. Or someone could end up shooting and killing Layla. Each thought left her petrified and as teeth were only centimetres away from her throat, she found her eyes fluttering open as she gasped for her breath. A coat of cold sweat covered her body and there was the tiniest amount of blood coming from her throat. She hugged the covers close to her and decided sleep was out of the question tonight.

If Otto would classify anything as a shitshow, this would certainly be up there in the ranks as he watched the ginger werewolf leap at Ariana. Why wasn’t she turning? It hadn’t seemed too bad the last time they’d seen one another and yet now she just… Wasn’t? None of this made sense and Otto’s sense of self-preservation made him step back, once and then again staring as she was knocked prone by the massive snarling creature. Oh hell no. Nope. Absolutely not. There was a single, last-ditch attempt to reach for his magic as the creature’s head lifted and peered straight at him and in a blur of snarling muscle and flesh leaped, claws lashing out.. And his last thought was is this how it ends?

His eyes snapped open in a blind-panic a sudden flare of energy shunting the nearby furniture a few screeching centimeters out of place. Sheets tangled around his legs as he tumbled out of bed onto the hard floor, breathing hard and clasping a hand to his heart. “What the fuck?” he panted a trickle of blood trailing down his arm as he stared around a dark empty bedroom trying to piece together what just happened but finding no answers in the silence. Perhaps sleep wasn’t a good idea tonight.

#p: ariana #para #wildest dreams #wickedswriting #// it's fiNE

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

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Hi, everybody! So the Adventures in Curse-breaking side quest was...absolutely wonderful. The prize is fantastic -- the animation of the dragons is awesome -- the new preserve location and the interior of the tent have the most wonderful ambient music -- and it features love for Charlie and Bill, who as most of you know are two of my favorites! I might’ve switched out Penny with Liz (given that, like Barnaby, she’s so into magical creatures and we could use more material for her in the game), but even with that nitpick, I think this quest may be one of my favorites so far, right up there with Chiara and Talbott’s friendship quests.

It is, however, a very dialogue-heavy quest with a good chunk of filler in between the awesome stuff, and writing full roleplaying posts for the entire thing would take up a LOT of time. So just like with my Meet the Malfoys quest post, I’ll be writing this in a more condensed, fic-like format. Because there’s so much more material to work with compared to the Malfoy quest, however, this post will be broken up into four parts all tagged “Adventures in Curse-Breaking”, complete with screenshots and gifs from the game, as we follow my MC Carewyn Cromwell, her honorary brothers Bill and Charlie, Barnaby, Merula, and Penny to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary!

Hope you enjoy! xoxo

Bill’s second meet-up with the sixth years ended up being more of a question-and-answer session about Cursebreaking and Defense Against the Dark Arts in general rather than a set lesson. Charlie had half-jokingly whispered in Carewyn’s ear that it was likely Bill was still in the process of drawing up lesson plans, and although Carewyn thought there was a good chance of it, she didn’t think Bill opening the floor for questions was a bad idea. After all, Merula had expressed interest in being a Cursebreaker, and any anti-Dark Arts information would be helpful to a future Auror like Tonks. (Carewyn once again thought of trying to coax Talbott to join Bill’s sessions too. She knew he preferred to “fly solo,” but she wanted him to become an Auror just as much as he himself wanted it!)

It was only toward the end of their session that Bill -- mostly to poke at Charlie for getting distracted whispering to Carewyn -- brought up his next mission, which his boss Griphook had said would involve dragons.

Of course Charlie’s ears had perked up like a puppy’s at the mention of dragons, and he immediately was interested in accompanying Bill on his mission. The eldest Weasley son, however, turned Charlie down, clearly regretting that he’d brought it up at all. He quickly dismissed the sixth years and excused himself from the classroom, but Charlie wasn’t having it. Agreeing that Bill could use some help if he had to deal with a bunch of dragons, Carewyn quickly changed clothes and accompanied her unofficial twin to Diagon Alley.

Carewyn hadn’t ever been to Gringotts without her mother before. The wizarding bank had always felt so massive to her, not just for its mile-high, vaulted ceilings, but in how the voices of the goblin tellers and witches and wizards in front of the counters echoed seemingly endlessly up toward the ceiling. Despite the ethereal light emanating off the lanterns on every desk and the sparkling diamond chandeliers overheard, the chamber still never felt completely lit. Shadows clung to every pillar and window frame, and the light of the lanterns pooled off the dark, patterned marble pillars, making them resemble rippling, murky green water as you walked past them.

Bill was very surprised to see the two gingers there. He’d tried to reproach them for ambushing him at work, which made Carewyn feel a bit guilty -- Charlie, however, felt no shame at all.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have run off in the middle of a conversation like that,” he’d said dryly. “Then we wouldn’t have had to chase after you.”

Carewyn offered Bill a kinder look. “I know you’re working, Bill -- but if your next assignment involves dragons, you know we can help.”

Bill’s boss, Griphook, took in the exchange with dry interest. Keeping a beady eye on both Carewyn and Charlie, he explained the mission more clearly to Bill. The goal was to recover a golden egg created by the goblin Urguff the Unwary and stolen by a dragon that mistook it for one of her own and was now suspected to have settled in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. The goblin then encouraged Bill that if “these two humans” could assist him in researching dragons, then it might be wise to accept their offer of help. Bill agreed, and the three gingers met at the Hog’s Head to research the various breeds of dragons one might encounter at the Romanian Sanctuary. Bill was stubborn, however, in keeping their meeting focused solely on research.

“I appreciate you helping me study up on dragons,” he’d said firmly, “but I’m sorry, I’m not taking you on my mission.”

Carewyn would’ve respected Bill’s feelings on the matter, given that this was his job and he deserved to do it his own way...but she knew how much Charlie wanted to go with him, and admittedly she was worried for Bill’s safety, going to a preserve full of dragons all by himself. Charlie himself was just as bullheaded as Bill was, but in the opposite direction.

“If you’re going to that sanctuary, then I’m going with you -- no arguments,” he’d shot back.

Seeing the impasse the two brothers were at, Carewyn immediately moved into “compromise” mode. Bill had already said that he’d have to cancel one of his sessions at Hogwarts in order to complete this mission, and facing so many dragons alone would be way too dangerous, even for a full-grown wizard...so why not kill two birds with one stone by having Charlie, her, and a few other sixth-year students come with Bill to help him find the egg? That way, if Bill needed to stun a dragon at any point, there would be at least two other people shooting Stunning Spells with him.

“Dragons can only be taken down with multiple Stunning spells,” Carewyn reminded him. “You wouldn’t be able to take one down on your own, if you got cornered. I only got lucky with the one in the Vault -- that one was already in bad shape before I faced it. These dragons...they’re in a preserve. They’ll have been treated well. And because they’re protected by Wizarding Law, you probably wouldn’t be allowed to use any spells that could really hurt them, like the Conjunctivitis Curse. Half the reason the dragon in the Vault didn’t kill me was because it couldn’t see me.”

Bill clearly hated how much sense Carewyn was making. His protective big brother instincts fought with his interest in completing his mission, but at long last, he relented.

Carewyn and Charlie got Barnaby, Penny, and Merula on board, and the group visited Hagrid to borrow his camping tent and get some general camping advice and Kettleburn to get some instruction on dragon safety. That Friday, the five sixth-years gathered at the Training Grounds to meet Bill.

It had been so eerie to meet Bill, Charlie, and Merula at the Training Grounds so they could leave Hogwarts via Portkey. For a second, Carewyn felt her shoulders tensing up and her blood freezing as if she was going back into the Portrait Vault. It was only seeing Barnaby and Penny’s faces instead of Rakepick and Ben’s that made her feel the least bit grounded again, even as she took hold of the Portkey and the six of them were flung off their feet and spun around faster and faster and faster --

When they arrived at their destination, Carewyn felt her breath still in her throat.

There were massive trees as far as the eye could see -- dramatic cliffs and mountains dotted the horizon -- the air was so fresh and light, dusted with the scent of pine and burnt oak -- and then overhead, soaring with their wings wide right over them, were dozens of massive, majestic dragons.

It was beautiful.

Carewyn grinned from ear to ear seeing how happy Charlie was. She’d always thought dragons were cool, but her admiration of the creatures had nothing on what her fellow Fireball thought of them. Carewyn had always loved listening to her friends talk about their greatest passions, and Charlie was no exception.

It was quickly decided that it would be best to set up camp and start searching for the golden egg the next morning. As safe as Carewyn thought they’d be with the defensive magical wards she’d put up, she and Bill both thought that searching a dragon preserve at night was still riskier than it was probably worth. Soon the group had set up camp and -- on Barnaby’s suggestion -- started roasting marshmallows over a roaring campfire.

Barnaby immediately proposed sharing scary stories. Penny was reluctant; Carewyn herself didn’t love being scared herself and she didn’t want to upset Penny, but she reassured the blond Hufflepuff all the same.

“Sometimes it’s fun to be a little scared -- especially when you know those things aren’t real and can’t hurt you,” Carewyn had told her. “I mean, you’re with your friends. You know we wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”

Merula gave a sharp bark of a laugh.

Her voice was noticeably softer than normal, which startled Carewyn. The Slytherin Prefect hadn’t really included Merula in her mind when she’d said that, but...the look on Merula’s face made Carewyn feel almost guilty that she hadn’t. She was very glad that Barnaby started right into his scary story about the Bloody Broom.

Carewyn was actually getting really into Barnaby’s story before the roar of a dragon flying a mere four feet over their heads made the entire group duck, even as the defensive wards around the camp effectively kept the dragon’s tail or claws from touching them.

“Let’s go inside,” Carewyn said quickly, trying to will down her own heart rate as she looked over her companions’ identical white faces.

To Be Continued...

#adventures in cursebreaking #carewyn cromwell #jacob's sibling #hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #bill weasley #merula snyde #barnaby lee #penny haywood #griphook #dragons #gifs #gameplay #roleplaying #my writing

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donatello-writes · 5 years

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Not Quite Human, Part III - Donatello x Reader

Part II can be found here --> (x)

Part IV can be found here -> (x)

Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much ashamed of my exchange: But love is blind and lovers cannot see.

-The Merchant of Venice

Trembling still, Donatello started backing away again slowly with intent to abscond through the window behind him. Not seeing the chew toy in his path, he tripped over it and fell backwards, and he kept falling...and falling...The vision of your fear-stricken face at the forefront of his mind. Awakening with a start, he sat up in his bed and buried his face into his hands.

"It was...just a nightmare?" He asked himself in shallow breaths, shaken from how real the illusion felt. Taking a few moments to find calm, he finally rose from his bed to go about his routine. As the day wore on, the genius became caught up in his work, and lost track of time. Before he knew it, he was already running late for his date with you.

**********************************

Your nerdy sweetheart waved to you as he ran up, this time he came wearing a new and intriguing accessory which promptly caught your attention, "I like your goggles, very steampunk." Surprised, he felt the top of his head to find that he'd forgotten to take them off. So accustomed to having his goggles on all the time, he didn't even notice that they were still there. He was honestly shocked that this had not happened sooner. With a small smile, he prepared to humble brag about his creation.

"You make fun, but these are actually functional," He stated matter-of-factly while pushing his glasses up his nose. When you gave him a look of skepticism, he removed the item from his head and held it out to you. "Would you like to test them out?" He offered, trying his best not to appear too overly confident as he did so.

Laughing incredulously, you humored him, and donned the apparatus. Much to your amazement, they were fully operational. The invention provided biological breakdowns of various objects within it's range. When you turned your gaze to Donatello, he was careful to avoid your line of sight. For just a few seconds, his chemical make-up flickered before your eyes as you managed to catch a glimpse of him through the lenses.

The information disappeared before you could read it as your lanky beau slipped behind you and attempted to pluck the gadget from your head. Removing them yourself, you held the invention out just far enough to keep it from his grasp. The device listed so much data at once that it was difficult to fully absorb. However, one thing in particular stood out...His heat signature, it was far too low for a human being. You stored that information into the annals of your mind for future contemplation.

Mouth agape, you began your adulation, "You...made these?! They’re incredible!" You exclaimed as you proceeding to marvel at the technical intricacies of the small apparatus.

He chuckled heartily at your response as he pursued the repossession of his belonging, "Try not to sound so shocked, I'm an...inventor, of sorts." You swatted away his hands and released a haughty laugh.

"Alright, give them back, you cannot be trusted with those!" He finally demanded, and you continued to deny his request, holding them behind you with a firm shake of your head.

"No way, they're mine now!" You refused him once more, and the two of you continued to wrestle for the trinket; all the while laughing hysterically. The young man's chortle quickly turned into snorts as he continued to reach for his possession.

"That is insanely adorable," You complimented his dorky laughter and his face became flushed.

The position in which the two of you had found yourselves was incredibly romantic, and his heart fluttered in his chest. Only mere inches separated your lips from meeting. Locked in a introvert's stale-mate, you both waited for the other to make a move. Despite his outwardly human appearance, Donatello still felt like a mutant. He couldn't believe that someone as attractive as you would ever want to kiss someone like him. He especially didn't expect you to reciprocate if he were to attempt a lip lock with you, but that fact failed to quash his yearning.

Being very methodical, it was unlike the genius to act on impulse. He would always plan out a strategy before taking action to ensure the most favorable outcome. However, at that moment, he threw caution to the wind. He knew that if he didn't act now while he had the perfect opportunity, he never would. As if you both were dancing, he held you in a dip and slowly moved in. Your widened eyes followed his lips as they lingered longingly over yours. He wanted to kiss you, but hadn't the courage. Shying away at the last second, he planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

In an act of bravery fueled by need, you decided to take his action further. It was just a quick peck, but the spontaneity of the gesture roused something deep within Donatello. A shudder of anticipation suddenly ran throughout his body. What followed was a low, mellifluous, churr that welled up from his chest. The unexpected vocalism caused both of the young lovers to flinch. The amorous lad reflexively gasped as his mind quickly placed the sound, making you fear that you had been too forward.

"I'm sorry!" You panicked, breaking the embrace, and taking a few steps away from him. Unsure of what else to say, you waited for his response on held breath.

"Y/N, don't be sorry! It was...nice." He said dreamily, unable to forget the softness of your lips on his. In the back of his mind, he was concerned about his clearly inhuman bodily hiccup. Thankfully, you didn't appear to be too concerned about it. Not even Donatello, himself, was aware of this uncontrollable trait. The braniac knew actual turtles churred when mating, but never thought he'd exhibit it; writing it off as an impossibility, given that he was part human. He wondered why it never manifested before now. Perhaps the emotional connection that he shared with you drew it out.

But the two of you weren't even close to engaging in what was scientifically considered to be mating. It was merely a kiss, and a chaste one at that. Admittedly, he was getting hot and bothered from that alone, with the help of his imagination. When his mind fixated on the idea of the two of you being intimate, his face turned red. Another humm emitted from his body, this time much louder. It served as a rude awakening from his daydream. That one was impossible for you to miss, and you gave him a vexed look.

The infatuated young man's blissful expression quickly fell as he searched his mind for a response, "That was...my...stomach! I'm starving! A-are you hungry? Do you want to go and get some food? I'm thinking Italian," His words stumbled out feebly, eyes refusing to meet yours. Meanwhile, all you could do was guffaw at his odd reaction to something as normal as stomach rumbling.

"What's inside that stomach of yours? A zoo?" the well-timed joke lifted the awkwardness of the situation, and successfully calmed your beau's nerves. This was feigned ignorance, however, as you perceived something strange in his so-called stomach noises; but you chose not to broach the subject, as he appeared to be extremely self-conscious about it.

The sounds were far too guttural to be of the stomach, they almost sounded...bestial. You'd heard a similar sound before, but couldn't place it. Deciding that you needed to investigate further, you returned to the reality from which your mind had wandered. Donatello was guiding you along as he prattled away about this amazing Italian restaurant that he loved, which just so happened to be nearby. This was a insubstantial attempt to distract you from what had just occurred.

Stopping without warning, you brought your chatty date to a halt as well. The bespectacled boy turned to you in confusion, "Is everything alright? Why'd you stop all of the sudd-" not allowing him to finish his inquiry, you threw your arms around his neck, and pulled him into a kiss. Though surprised, he hesitantly embraced the sudden display of affection. Shaky hands meeting your waist, and resting there apprehensively.

Curiosity got the best of you, as you tried to draw out that unusual sound from him again. You'd noticed that it previously happened during your close encounter earlier, and decided to test the theory. When the result that you expected failed to occur, you released him, trying to mask the disappointment you felt in the experiment's failure.

Perhaps it really was his stomach after all, you resolved to put it to rest...for the moment. Donatello gave you a look of befuddlement, but swiftly picked up on your motivation after brief contemplation. While the likelihood of you coming to the conclusion that he was a giant mutant turtle was statistically improbable, giving you a cause for suspicion still wasn't good.

The brainy young man was partially impressed that you'd gathered so much information from such a quick, and unpredicted irregularity. This was truly unsurprising, though, he knew that you had a brilliant mind. Donatello cursed his biological makeup, his errant turtle moan was costing him dearly.

Sudden booms of thunder offered a perfectly timed distraction from the shenanigans at hand. Darkened clouds swirled in the distance, threatening a coming storm. Exchanging glances of concern you both agreed to seek cover, and the aforementioned dining establishment was the perfect place to go.

The eatery was everything that Donatello had promised and more. The two of you indulged in pasta, delightful conversation, and of course...tiramisu. Upon finishing your meal, you walked outside together to discover that it still had yet to rain. And the threat was still promising, as the sky remained a deep purple. This unforeseen weather complication put a kibosh on your outdoor date plans. Given the circumstances, the two of you agreed to cut the date short. Much to the dismay of both parties.

As per usual, your date bid you goodnight outside of your high rise apartment, being far too shy to invite himself in. Glancing at him flirtily, you offered hospitality, "Would you like to come up to my place?"

He shrank at your inquiry, knowing full well that he only had an hour or so left until he changed back into he old turtle self. That wasn't much time in the grand scheme of things, and he simply didn't want to risk it. The once distant rumbling suddenly grew louder, and raindrops began to fall, swiftly escalating into a downpour. Hand-in-hand, you ran for shelter at the door of your building. The space was barely enough to cover you both.

"Wow, these rom-com clichés follow you like a shadow, huh?" You tittered as the two of you huddled together underneath the small overhang, nearly soaked to the bone; bodies firmly pressed against one another in order to fit. The intimate proximity enticed romantic ventures, chests rising and falling with synced breaths. Desire swirled in his golden eyes, and at that moment, he didn't overthink. Instead, he took your lips in his with adrenaline-fueled confidence. Impassioned and deep, it felt as though the storm had stricken you both with it's threat.

An electricity passed between your bodies, coursing through, and enlivening you with each traded kiss. Having no prior experience in kissing wasn't too much of a problem for the mutant in disguise, it was simply the proper application of jaw mechanics and tongue movement. In technique he was prepared, but what he wasn't prepared for was the passionate intensity of the experience. He felt as though his heart would break free from his rib cage at the rate it was beating. When you came up for air, all that you could do was utter a single word with shaky breath...

"Wow." and when you stumbled back a bit, he caught you, an unfaltering smile lighting up his features. You then cupped his face with both hands and locked eyes with him as you prepared to deliver the most unparalleled of witticisms.

"I'm cashing in my raincheck." You voiced with a prideful grin, and your beau stifled a laugh. The cleverness of your one-liner was undeniable. He couldn't resist such a convincing argument, especially not after that kiss.

"Okay, but I can only stay for one hour!" Donatello stated his time limit decisively, and you nodded in agreement.

Together, you headed up to the apartment and made your way inside. Various framed posters lined the corridor of the entrance, all from iconic horror and fantasy films. The first was The Wolfman, followed by Creature from the Black Lagoon, Pan's Labyrinth, and finally, Frankenstein. You watched as your guest scanned the hangings with delight, and continued leading him to the main room. It was spacious and well decorated with paintings, and knick-knacks, but not overly cluttered. Several art supplies laid on the tables, and there was even a sewing machine on it's own desk.

"Wow, you're quite the jack of all trades, huh?" He chuckled as he gestured to the Singer Quantum Stylist 9985 in the corner.

"Yes, I dabble in many hobbies." You answered with a cheeky smile.

The young man's eyes continued to travel the room in awe before finally settling on one painting specifically. A relatively large oil painting that was hard to miss, but not because of it's size. The subject matter was of particular interest to the turtle in human’s clothing. On it was a woman with a sea monster, the two of them exchanging a deep loving gaze as they floated within the murky depths of the ocean. Recognizing it immediately as the final scene from The Shape of Water, Donatello smiled wide.

Drawing close for a better look, he couldn't hide his appreciation for the work. He knew the patience that it took to paint with oils, but moreso, admired the piece because it gave him...hope. Becoming entranced, he absendmindedly muttered under his breath, "For loue is blynd alday and may nat see."

You barely picked up what he'd said was it...Latin? No, Middle English. Watching as he marveled at the work you let out a muffled chuckle. His facial features spoke volumes: amazement, respect, and something more. There was an evident understanding in his expression, gaze fixed on the monster, as if they shared some sort of kinship.

Realizing that he was acting peculiar, he turned to you with a dorky smile and bestowed a compliment, "Y/N...This is...gorgeous."

Jolting at the admiration, your breath hitched, "T-thank you...I painted it." You stuttered as you grabbed two towels from a nearby closet. Feeling warmth flow to your cheeks, you ran into the other room to gather dry clothing. After taking a few seconds to calm yourself, you returned, throwing a hooded sweatshirt and basketball shorts to Donatello.

Catching the garments launched in his direction, he continued to shower you with adoration, "You really painted this?! That's incredible...It's amazing!"

All you could do was nod sheepishly. "Thank you! It's not really that great, there are so many anatomical errors and..." Your train of thought trailed off as you noticed his clothes dripping still from the rain.

With a chuckle you shifted the conversation, "Alright, you've appreciated my artwork enough! We should get changed before we catch colds." Just as you finished your sentence, your date absentmindedly removed his shirt. Stunned at the sight, you couldn't help but stare. You'd never noticed his lean muscular build previously, since he always wore long sleeves.

Once he became aware of his social blunder, he swiftly recovered with a joke, "Do you mind?" He then placed a hand on his hip, raised one eyebrow, and shifted to a stance that radiated sass.

Still awe-struck, you responded in an unbothered tone before getting the hint, "No--Oh-oh-oh! Excuse me." before retreating into your room once more. Peering through the crack in your door, you looked him up and down while biting your lower lip. Once he shot a playful glare in your direction, you swiftly closed it, but not without getting one, "Bye!" in before doing so. Both of you exploded with laughter at your near-perfectly executed Road to El Dorado scene.

Following your wardrobe change, you wandered out of your room. Hands over your eyes, you loudly announced your entrance. When you peeked through your fingers to see him decent, a huff of disappointment escaped your lips and he chuckled. The nerdy lad then gave you an amused look as he gestured to the graphic on the kelly green sweatshirt that you'd chosen for him, "Ha ha, very funny."

Twisting your face into a mischievous grin, you suppressed the urge to giggle and shrugged, "It was the only long sleeve thing I had that would fit you." unable to withhold it any longer, you finally burst into laughter upon reading the ‘Talk Nitrogen, Erbium, and Dysprosium to me’ periodic table of elements joke that adorned the garment. The merriment was cut short when the sound of barking echoed from the other room.

"Oh no, my poor baby! I'm sorry, do you mind if I let my dog, Noodles, out to meet you?" You asked, and your handsome suitor responded with an affirmative nod of his head.

The dog bounded out into the living area once he was released from confinement, eager to meet the new guest. Prior to getting close, the chocolate brown labrador retriever froze in place and sniffed the air. The animal then proceeded to hesitantly approach, almost as if he was unsure what to make of Donatello. Tilting his head in confusion, he refused to draw in too near. Matching your canine companion's response, you were equally perplexed as you watched the interaction. The pooch didn't growl, nor did he cower, he merely stood at attention before your lanky beau. Finally coming to the decision to lay down on the floor, the pup wagged his tail lightly while keeping his eyes focused on the visitor.

"That was a little weird, but I suppose that it's a good sign...he typically gets aggressive with the men that I bring over. He's my barometer for character." You smiled as you made your way over to the couch, gesturing for Donatello to come and sit with you. Plagued by nerves, he sat a fair amount of space away from you.

"So, how'd you know that I had a dog when we first met?" a question meant to distract from the awkwardness of the situation, but only worsened it. The nervous young man flinched at your question, he hoped that you had forgotten, but he should have known better.

"You just...looked like a dog person," He knew that was a terrible explanation, and judging from the look on your face, you didn't buy it.

"I suppose that I can accept that as an answer." You motioned with just your index and middle fingers from your eyes to him, in a silent indication that said I'm watching you. The reasoning for how he had guessed your dog ownership was not at the forefront of your mind, however. The nerdy young man chuckled at your attempt at intimidation, snort making an appearance. His laugh made you weak and you fought yet another blush that tried to form on your cheeks.

Meeting his gaze coyly, you closed the gap between the two of you. Donatello knew what was coming, the burning look in your eyes was telling. Regardless, his heart nearly burst through his chest when you drew in intimately close; bringing your face just inches away from his. The shy young man's nerves got the best of him, and he froze like a deer in headlights. The moment the two of you shared outside of the building was a fit of spontaneous passion. Now, with a clear head, the anxious lad's overactive brain stole his bravery from him. All of his insecurities flashed before his eyes, and proved to be an imposing force.

The blush that crossed his cheeks was accompanied by a broad smile, indicating his interest. He was simply immobilized by uncertainty. Expecting this hesitation, you happily took the lead, pressing your lips softly to his. Your lips tasted so sweet, just as they had before, and Donatello could barely handle it. Without realizing it, he allowed a soft, blissful moan escape him. You responded with a giggle causing him to stammer out a flustered apology. For him, this experience was entirely new, but he couldn't tell you that.

"It's okay, it was cute." You assured him, and he simply replied with an awkward chuckle.

Slowly, you moved in closer and Donatello followed your direction, sliding down into a reclining position. It wasn't long before you found yourselves laying together on the couch that you'd previously been sitting on. With you on top of him, his heart was now racing, face still beet red as he scrambled to keep up. His body began emitting the low humming sound that you'd since become accustomed to hearing.

"Jeeze, you work up an appetite pretty easily, huh?" You teased.

"Yeah, but I'm not hungry for food...I'm hungry for you--S-sorry, that was awful." He snorted, critiquing his own terrible pick-up line as he made it.

Tilting your head you grinned, "I liked it," upon hearing your positive feedback, he then found the courage to wrap his arms around you. This gesture caused you to move from his lips to his neck. Donatello wasn't sure how much more of this he could take, his sensory levels were about to hit critical mass.

Oh, no...

The fun came to an abrupt end when he felt that indicative tingling overcome him, which only meant one thing. Panic replaced pleasure when amorous young man realized the effects of the ooze were beginning to wear off. It would not be long before he began reverting back to his actual form. He searched his mind for a plausible excuse, but in his flustered state, couldn't come up with even one.

By this time you had moved back up to his lips and continued kissing Donatello, who couldn't help but reciprocate. Sure, he was concerned for his current state of affairs, but he wanted this so badly. Knots twisted inside his stomach, and he could feel the plates of his plastron reforming underneath his clothing. In the most inconvenient timing, you happened to find your hand on his abdomen, and he whimpered.

"Huh. That's odd." you were rightfully baffled by this unexpected sensation. Just as you positioned your hand to lift the hoodie, the fretful lad quickly intercepted it.

"S-sorry, I gotta go!" He blurted out, unable to hide his discomfort. Proceeding to slide out from under you, he leapt from the couch nimbly, and made his way towards the door.

"Wait! Donnie...what's wrong?" You reached out and took a gentle hold of his wrist, feeling a roughness that wasn't there previously. The panicked young man looked down in horror at his now lightly scaled forearm, watching as the rough skin slowly became more prominent and attained a greenish hue. Yanking his arm away, he pulled down the sweatshirt sleeve to conceal it.

Words fell out of his mouth clumsily, "uh...uuuh...it's a skin condition..." a flimsy elucidation only made worse by the addition of an awkward smile.

When both of his hands began to tremble, and he instinctively hid them behind his back. He then started to walk hastily in reverse to the exit. Meanwhile, his index and middle fingers began slowly fusing back together with his ring and pinky fingers following suit. Once he made it to the door he fumbled nervously with the handle attempting to open it, a task that proved difficult given his current complications.

The door finally opened, and without looking, he backed his way through. Before closing the door he gave you one last apologetic look from across the room, hoping that you'd forgive him for his unusual behavior. Much to his dismay, he found himself in your bathroom. He'd made a critical mistake. Donatello swore up and down this was the exit. Now he was effectively trapped by both embarrassment for what had just transpired, and fear that you'd find out what he really is before he was ready to tell you.

A soft knock came from the other side of the bathroom door making the fretful anthropomorphic young man yelp. "Donnie...are you okay?" You called to him, with genuine concern in your voice.

"Ye-yeah...everything is just fine." He lied, clenching his teeth as he did so. The vanity mirror gave him a perfect view of his current appearance, skin slowly becoming saturated with green and nose flattening into a cream-colored snout. He turned his head away, not wanting to watch his reversion. Scanning the expanse of the the bathroom, he was relieved to find a window. He clambered through the aperture before even giving it a second thought. And then he was gone, down the fire escape of your high rise apartment building. Like a coward he ran, with his transformation nearing completion, and an overwhelming sense of guilt washing over him as he fled into the shadows.

...to be continued.

#not quite human #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fan fic #bayverse tmnt #donatello #fan fiction #my writing #don's quill pen #woo boy guys #I hope you like it #I hope the surprise wasn't terrible #*screams internally*#tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016

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ladyherenya · 4 years

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Books read in April

I probably spent more time reading but I also read a handful of novellas and a couple of children’s novels, which means I read more books than usual.

Many of these were, if not outright retellings, than heading close to that sort of territory: faeries and fairytales, Sherlock Holmes, Jane Austen, and Norse gods...

Favourite cover: Masque, maybe.

Reread: Nothing, too busy reading new things...

Still reading: Cinder by Marissa Meyer.

Next up: There’s a new Murderbot novel out in early May!!!

(Longer reviews and ratings are on LibraryThing and Dreamwidth.)

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams (narrated by the author): Adams’ descriptions are clever and unexpected, and he strings together a series of events even more bizarre and unexpected than his descriptions. Sometimes I felt exhausted on behalf of his poor protagonists, bounced from one mishap to another, but I was impressed by Adams’ ability to turn this madness into such a coherent story.

Flamebringer by Elle Katharine White: A solid, tense conclusion to Heartstone and Dragonshadow. However, I suspect it would have made more of an impact had I read the first two books recently. It assumes that the reader remembers more worldbuilding details -- about history and family connections and magical folk -- than I did. And because I found such details confusing, I didn’t pay close attention to some of the history and politics revealed in this book, and those things turned out to be unexpectedly important. A trilogy in much need of a glossary.

Hamster Princess: Harriet the Invincible by Ursula Vernon (aka T. Kingfisher): A very amusing take on ‘Sleeping Beauty’. Upon learning of her curse, Harriet accurately concludes that she must be invincible until it strikes -- and when the time arrives, she’s determined to avoid falling into an enchanted sleep. This is heavily-illustrated. The pictures are great, but were often awkwardly displayed in the Libby e-book.

The Art of Theft by Sherry Thomas: More of a heist story than a murder mystery, which may explain why I found it less compelling than The Hollow of Fear, although admittedly, it has its suspenseful sequences. Thomas does some interesting things in expanding her portrayal of the era as well as Mrs Watson’s story, taking Charlotte Holmes and her trusted associates to France on a mission along with someone from Mrs Watson’s past. I liked that Livia gets to play a more active role in those adventures. But I expected to like this more.

Love Lettering by Kate Clayborn: Meg is desperate for inspiration and company. She comes up with a project, looking for hand-lettered signs around New York, and invites along a former client -- who has turned up to question Meg about the hidden message in the wedding program she designed for him and his ex. A story about signs, secrets and the importance of having difficult conversations. I liked how those themes are explored in different areas of Meg’s life: making an effort to get to know Reid, setting boundaries with a new client, and trying to stop her best friend from drifting away.

Once Upon a Marigold by Jean Ferris (narrated by Carrington MacDuffie): Christian was brought up in a cave by Edric the troll, who discovered Chris hiding in the forest. Now Chris is in love with the princess Marigold, with whom he has exchanged letters carried by pigeon but has never met. If I had discovered this in 2002 when it was first published, I suspect I’d have been delighted by its gentle, whimsical, almost-fairytale-ness. These days I tend to want more complexity and more emotion and, often, more critical engagement with the genre’s tropes. But this was still pleasant company while I did a few hours of housework.

The Shards of a Broken Sword novella trilogy by W.R. Gingell:

Twelve Days of Faery: King Markon’s son appears to be afflicted by a strange curse, because accidents and misadventure befalls any girl the prince flirts with. When an enchantress offers to deal with the curse in exchange for the expected reward of the prince’s hand in marriage, Markon gets swept up in her investigation. This is so much fun. I liked the way it focuses on a middle-aged father, rather than any of the more usual candidates for this sort of story, like his son or any of the young women affected by the curse. And I enjoyed Althea’s confidence and practical competence.

Fire in the Blood: Another story interested in twisting fairytale tropes. A prince sets out to rescue a princess from a tower, but neither of them are the protagonist -- that’s Rafiq, the prince’s enslaved dragon, forced into human-form. Rafiq has been dragged along on this quest and quietly hopes that his vicious master will fail to unravel the tower keep’s protections. I enjoyed this. The tower keep, with its magical puzzles, was an intriguing setting, and it was rather satisfying to see Rafiq and the princess’s serving girl subtly undermine the prince’s efforts without drawing his ire.

The First Chill of Autumn: The first two standalone and take place over a few days. This does not. It begins with Princess Dion’s childhood. At seventeen, Dion is sent on a tour of her country and discovers the truth about the Fae’s influence. She ends up joining forces with characters from the previous books. I liked each of these sections. However, this could easily have been expanded into something novel-length and been stronger for it. If more time had been given to Dion’s relationships -- with her sister, Barric and Padraig, and maybe her parents -- the ending would have made more of an emotional impact.

“A Tale of Carmine and Fancy”: This short story takes place during The First Chill of Autumn. I didn’t care about Carmine one way or another when he turned up in the trilogy, so I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this.

A Posse of Princesses by Sherwood Smith (narrated by Emma Galvin): Sixteen year old Rhis is one of many princesses invited to attend festivities held in honour of a crown prince. My first impression -- a nice-but-unremarkable story with an irritating audiobook narrator -- quickly changed. I got used to the narrator’s voice. I really appreciate Smith’s portrayal of social interactions and of group dynamics from the perspective of someone who is trying to understand why others are competing for attention. And once the plot took off, I was hooked. I have mixed feelings about the very end but that didn’t change how much I liked the rest of the story.

The Two Monarchies sequence by W.R. Gingell:

Clockwork Magician: Several years after Blackfoot, Peter starts at university. Because Peter ends up messing around with time-travel, there are scenes from his future in the previous books. It’s interesting getting those moments from Peter’s perspective and fitting the puzzle pieces of his story together. I also felt invested in Peter’s journey even though he spends a lot of time being arrogant and oblivious, because I knew that there must be a significant change up ahead. The way his dawning realisation is handled was unexpectedly satisfying. I also enjoyed seeing more of Poly and Luck, and getting to know Glenna.

Masque: A murder mystery which turns into a Beauty and the Beast retelling. Lady Isabella Farrah is determined to investigate after a friend is killed at the Ambassador’s Grand Ball, even if doing so annoys the official investigator, the masked Lord Pecus. Isabella is excellent company. She’s quick-witted, resourceful and uncowed. I really enjoyed watching her banter and meddle. The Beauty and the Beast elements are cleverly woven into the story, and even without the murder investigation, there’s enough to make it a unique take on an old tale. A delightful standalone companion to this series.

Frankly in Love by David Yoon: Frank Li has watched his parents react to his older sister’s choices and he knows they will never accept him dating anyone who isn’t Korean. So he and a family friend, Joy Song, pretend to date. Fake-dating is one of my most favourite romance tropes but I’m not a fan when it’s a cover for actually dating someone else -- I don’t like others getting hurt by the deception. Despite that, I found this YA novel engaging and unexpectedly moving. And an absolutely fascinating look at being the child of immigrants.

The Night Country by Melissa Albert: The Hazel Wood was excellent, sharp and compelling, but I didn’t enjoy the sequel much at all. In the first book there’s a much stronger thread of hope running through the darkness.

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone: The letters exchanged between Red and Blue, two agents on opposing sides of a time war, are vibrant and memorable, playful and poignant. I particularly enjoyed their different names for each other. (“Dearest Blue-da-ba-dee”, “My Dear Mood Indigo”, “Dearest 0000FF” -- that one made me laugh, “Dear Red Sky at Morning”...) The scenes in between leave many questions unanswered about the war being fought. I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that if I actually understood what was going on, I wouldn’t like the characters. Nevertheless the letters are brilliant, and I can deal with uncertainty for the space of a novella.

A Dead Djinn in Cairo by P. Djèlí Clark (narrated by Suehyla El-Attar): This novelette is too brief to involve what I enjoy most about murder mysteries, like carefully prying into people’s motives or characters forming supportive relationships in the face of an atmosphere of suspicion and unease. It is possible I’d like this worldbuilding in a different story, and that I would care more about Special Investigator Fatma el-Sha'arawi if I spent more time with her.

The Jane Austen Project by Kathleen A. Flynn: Rachel and Liam, a doctor and an actor-turned-academic, are sent back to 1815 to befriend Jane Austen and uncover an unpublished novel. Time travel allows for portraying Austen’s world with historical accuracy from the perspective of a woman with contemporary attitudes, and creates interesting challenges and anxieties. There’s a high degree of wish fulfilment in meeting Austen, but also realistic complications and consequences. This book impressed me even though -- or perhaps because -- it wasn’t always comfortable or to my taste. I’d have adored it, had things been slightly different, yet it’s nevertheless gripping and thought-provoking storytelling. I respect that.

#Herenya reviews books #W.R. Gingell #Ursula Vernon #Sherwood Smith #Kate Clayborn #Elle Katharine White #Sherry Thomas #Douglas Adams #Jean Ferris #David Yoon #Melissa Albert #Amal El Mohtar #Max Gladstone #P. Djèlí Clark #Kathleen A. Flynn

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