#hate feeling so dumb and silly and stupid at my grown age hate being so behind hate the passage of time hate not knowing how to cope | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 13 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer finally meets Reader’s roommate while the two prepare for a picnic. After Spencer lectures Reader on the dangers of the outdoors, the two face a different kind of danger at the bank.

Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Gun violence mention Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Although I’d been inside (Y/n)’s apartment several times now, I couldn’t say I’d ever actually looked much at my surroundings. It felt strange to admit that, mostly because I felt like I was doing something wrong; like I was a traitor to my job.

But then again, it felt worse to try to profile her. The few times I had made it obvious, she had made it very clear it was unappreciated. I could understand why.

So, before we even got to her door, I tried to quiet the voices screaming in my head, telling me to look for clues to all the unknowns about her. It wasn’t because I was expecting her to be hiding anything; I just wanted to know everything about her.

I could simply wait for her to tell me, though. We had all the time in the world, right?

“Laura, I’m home!” She called out immediately after breaching the entrance, following the exclamation with a very hurried request. “Spencer is here so please don’t be weird!”

The response was a calm, steady series of footfalls down the hall. The girl stuck her head around the corner, peeking at the two of us with a devilish grin.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Reid.”

I told myself I probably shouldn’t be this nervous. If she was friends with (y/n), she was most likely a decent person. But let’s just say women around that age had never been particularly kind to me. They brought to the surface a lot of memories I’d tried very hard to bury.

She didn’t put her hand out to shake, which told me they’d already probably talked about me more than I’d have liked. ‘Wait,’ I thought to myself, ‘Is it okay to profile her roommate?’

“I’m going to go get a basket together. Wait in the living room, my kitchen is a disaster.”

Before I could argue, she had already disappeared, leaving me stranded in the hallway with her roommate who looked ready to cause trouble. I just hoped it wouldn’t the kind that revolved around me.

She waved a hand in front of her, motioning for me to make my way into the living room. Once we were there, she immediately took a seat, but I remained standing. Felt better to be able to escape.

The silence was awkward and suffocating. I could feel her staring at me, but she wasn’t saying anything. It felt wrong to look back.

“She says you read people for a living.” Her voice had a hint of skepticism in it I’d grown used to. “Sounds kind of like what psychics say.”

“Yeah, we use a lot of the same strategies, too. They just aren’t as honest about it as we are.”

“What do you see here?”

That was what got me to turn around and face her. She looked so comfortable, curled up on the couch.

“Pardon me?” The question caught me off guard, even though it shouldn’t have. I’d heard it so many times.

“What does our apartment say about us?” She asked, clearly not understanding why it was an inappropriate thing to ask. Or more likely, just didn’t care. Curiosity is a powerful thing.

I cleared my throat before looking back away and saying, “I agreed not to profile (y/n).”

“Well, can you at least tell which stuff is hers?”

I’m sure she was just checking to see if I was legitimate or just scamming her. Maybe she was checking to see if I was too good at it.

She didn’t need to worry. (Y/n) could handle herself. She wasn’t tricked easily. In fact, most of my intrigue and concern surrounding her unknowns was just how good she was at hiding things.

It wasn’t until I had registered that question and was staring at her walls with a newfound sense of purpose, that I realized how little I knew about her past. Then again, I don’t really care about her past.

It had made her who she was today, and that was the woman I loved.

My fingers brushed over old, cracked plastic on DVD cases displayed on a shelf beside the console center.

I didn’t even notice I was smiling at first, realizing that she’d kept the physical cases despite all the streaming services. She clearly still used the discs, too.

“These... are hers.”

“How can you tell?” The response in the form of a question told me I was right, and only made me feel even more deeply. Despite my greatest efforts to not look so excited by something so silly, I turned back around with my lips still curled in an awkward smile.

“Educated guess. Adrenaline.”

“What?” The confusion in her voice reminded me that she wasn’t aware of one of my deepest personality flaws.

“Research shows that only about 10% of the population are so called ‘adrenaline junkies,’ people who enjoy roller coasters and horror movies. It’s more often men than women, but it’s hard to tell because of the way we’re socialized.”

If I had turned around to face her, I probably would have seen the dead stare she was giving me during my rant.

“Regardless, people tend to either love horror or hate it. So, I considered the fact that (y/n) seems to enjoy things like... sneaking into bars with fake IDs and… other risky behavior.”

Well, that was close.

“But what really gave it away was the fact they’re not dusty, which means they’re still being used despite all of these movies being available on streaming services I know for a fact she uses. Considering how patient she is with my own Luddite tendencies I just figur—“

“Wow.”

The word cut off my train of thought, and I realized that I had barely breathed since I’d started. Wincing in response to the dumbfounded look on the poor girl’s face, I gave a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“A little bit,” she said with her own little pity laugh. I’m sure (y/n) had told her enough about me that this wasn’t that big of a surprise.

“I do that when I’m nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” she said like it was the easiest advice in the world, “You’re right about her, you know.”

Staring down at my feet, I wondered why the confirmation from her roommate meant so much to me. I hadn’t been actively trying to figure out things about my girlfriend — it felt wrong. But for whatever reason, knowing I had the ability to figure it out meant more when it was about her.

Laura laughed again, craning her neck to look around the corner before she quietly spoke. “She says it was the other way around, but she’s the one who convinced me to streak the lawn.”

Ah, the age-old tradition of UVA students. It was so easy to picture her stripping down to nothing in the dead of the night to prance down the length of manicured grass. My own personal little pixie.

If it was just an attempt to calm my nerves, it was working. Putting the focus back on (y/n) was a surefire way to bring out the best in me. She just had that effect on me.

“I am entirely unsurprised by this information,” I said before walking over to the other side of the room, noting the distinct lack of pictures of family among the shelves that clearly belonged to her.

Don’t read into it, I told myself, she might just keep them somewhere else.

“She also drank an entire water bottle of vodka during a full day of classes one time, just because I bet that she wouldn’t.”

I scoffed at the image of her drunk. It’d been a while since I’d seen her like that, and both times had been remarkably unique. She’s a dead giveaway; I was surprised she hadn’t been caught.

“I can’t say I relate to that,” I sadly admitted. Sometimes it was hard to realize that if I’d known her at the same age, we probably wouldn’t have gotten along. I used to hate people like that.

Granted, they had usually also hated me.

“She did mention you were a genius or something. I kind of figured. That’s her type.”

Well, that was information I couldn’t just gloss over. I furrowed my brow with a disbelieving smile, finally looking at the girl who was avidly watching my every move.

“Is it? I always pictured her with someone with more… Kinaesthetic intelligence.”

She gave me that look people give me when I said something weird, but continued nonetheless, “I don’t really know what that means, but she takes school pretty seriously. Honestly, probably a little too much. Part of why I dared her.”

“It’s strange to imagine her in class.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. And I was glad I couldn’t, because I was very curious about the answer.

“She’s the girl who knows all the answers and shuts down all the stupid guys trying to talk over her.”

I knew that those behaviors weren’t exactly favored in classrooms, having myself been the one at the brunt end of the bullying that followed.

“It’s pretty impressive.” She was being genuine when she spoke, and I was inclined to agree. At the same time the thought crossed my mind, I found a picture of her perched on the lap of the Thomas Jefferson statute.

God, I loved that girl.

“I bet she is.”

Almost on call, (y/n) poked her head into the room with wary eyes, looking at me as I awkwardly waved before looking back to her roommate.

“Laura, are you being weird?”

The girl rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to me like it was my question to answer. Afraid to spoil any tenuous, newly formed loyalties, I shook my head no.

“Okay…” She only barely accepted my answer, “But if you say some dumb shit and get arrested, I’m not bailing you out.”

Briefly sticking out her tongue as she walked past me, she continued on her way. I couldn’t help but give that lovestruck, idiotic grin I always gave when she was around. If you’d told me I would’ve ever felt like this about someone who felt the same about me, I wouldn’t have believed you. Part of me still didn’t believe she could ever love me the same as I loved her.

Turning back to the girl cringing at the blatant intimacy shared in a simple glance, I immediately became awkward again.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring my handcuffs.” I joked, showing my hands in a strange display of innocence.

She… took a different approach.

“I know for a fact she has a few pairs in her room if you need one.”

A high-pitched whine nearly escaped my throat at the casual mention, and I cleared my throat and turned to look at her with a very unconvincing laugh. “W-what?”

“You have to know it’s impossible for her to keep her sex life a secret,” she droned with a bored expression, “I live one room over.”

“Right,” I nodded.

There was an extended, never ending silence as she just let me stew in my own discomfort. It didn’t seem to bother her one bit, because the longer I avoided her eyes the more she seemed to smile.

“I’m uncomfortable.” I finally admitted, and she just shook her head, running her hand through her hair before giving me one final hard look.

“You’re sweet. You make her happy. I appreciate that.”

My mouth scrunched in a humble half-smile, my hands finding their way back into my pockets as I tried to consider the reality I’d found myself in. Of all the infinite possibilities, I got to exist in the version of the world where I loved a girl who loved me back.

“It’s all her,” I finally said with a voice that crackled far too much for my liking, “I don’t do anything. I’m just the lucky one she decides to keep around.”

Laura flashed an approving grin, but then got up when she heard the familiar, happy feet beating down the hallway. (Y/n) burst out from around the corner, her arms full with a picnic basket and a blanket she clearly owned for just these occasions.

“Ready to go, babe?”

“Lead the way.”

I’d have followed her anywhere.

—————————————————

It was the perfect time of year for a picnic, despite Spencer’s insistence that there was no such thing. Once we were in the park, his whining dramatically decreased. Maybe it was the sunshine, or maybe it was the smile on my face, but he was certainly in brighter spirits.

He even let me rest my head on his lap, his legs crossed underneath me while he alternated between staring off at the trees slowly losing their color to autumn and my quiet contentment as I nibbled on an assortment of fruits.

There was no awkward silence or hidden darkness in this day, and even the sweetest strawberry couldn’t be more refreshing. To be here with Spencer, soaking in the late Summer sun, was all I could ever ask for.

But I was also eager to take advantage of the uncharacteristic softness between us. It wasn’t often we could share moments like this. Between his job and all our problems over the past few months, I wasn’t sure when we could be like this again.

“Let’s talk about something fun.” I blurted out, earning an intrigued look from my boyfriend. He readjusted his position, leaning back on his hands so he could look down at me easier.

“Okay, like what?”

“Don’t make fun of me…” The way he was looking at me gave me no hope he would actually listen to me, but I continued anyway, “I have conversation starters I looked up.”

He snorted while trying to suppress his chuckle. “Of course you do.”

Dropping my mouth open, I reached up to lightly smack him on the face for immediately doing exactly what I had asked him not to.

“What? Like you’re the epitome of sociable, Dr. Reid?”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to stop the laughter that kept bubbling in his chest over something that was decidedly not that funny at all. We were just that stupid kind of happy where everything was wonderful.

“I’m just not surprised!” He reminded, then nodded for me to continue, “Go on, tell me one.”

“Tell me something you’re scared of.” I shot back, excited to hear the answer.

“The dark.” It was the most anticlimactic, stereotypical answer I could have imagined. It was my turn to scoff now, hardly believing the answer to be real.

“Seriously? You’re an FBI Agent, Spencer.”

“You told me not to make fun of you, but then you make fun of me? Unfair. I didn’t sign up for this scrutiny.” His legs started to move under me as he pretended like he was about to dump me from his lap and leave me here.

“Fine!” I shouted, reaching my hands up to grab his face. Although they fumbled awkwardly from my strange position, he took the time to lean to the side and kiss my palm lightly. “Favorite memory of the two of us.”

He blew out a long breath, his eyes squinted like they always did when he was in deep contemplation. But something told me something actually jumped straight to his mind, but he was holding it back for some other reason.

“That’s not fair. There are too many.”

I wasn’t falling for it. I flicked his nose before pulling my hand back, smiling at the way he jerked away like it actually hurt him. Giant baby.

“No cop out answers, old man. Favorite one!”

Spencer just sighed, letting his head fall back as he actually thought about what he was about to say for once in his life. I took the brief moment without his scrutiny to reflect on just how lucky I was to be able to see him like this.

“Okay. So, remember when we went to the bakery in Downtown?” He asked like I could have forgotten.

“Pauls? Yes, I remember.”

They’re legends in the area, but a total pain to try and get. You have to get there first thing in the morning and wait in a ridiculous line. But they were always worth it. Spencer had told me he’d never been, and I just couldn’t let such an injustice stand.

“While we were waiting in that ridiculous line, I remember looking at you and just seeing how excited you were for a donut, even at 7 in the morning.”

“That’s objectively the best time for a donut.” I interrupted with the most matter-of-fact tone I could emulate.

“Right,” he laughed, recalling how I kept reminding him of that fact while in line, “Well, we got to the front and before I could even talk, you had already ordered one for me.”

It took me a second to remember exactly what had happened. So much had happened since then, the memories were becoming muddled in my mind. But once I did remember, I smiled.

“Chocolate frosted with sprinkles. For the child in us all.”

“That’s it.” His voice had gotten soft so quickly, his hand brushing over my cheek while he played with the strands of hair blowing back over my face. “That’s my favorite memory.”

If I didn’t make a joke of it soon, I was scared my heart would burst.

“Really? That’s your favorite memory? Of all things?” I asked with a playful grin, clasping both of my hands around his and holding it against my chest.

“Yes.” For a man of so many words, it meant so much more when he spoke so little. You could feel the truth in the way the sound hit your ears.

Even as I bit on the inside of my cheeks to withhold my excited giggle, he was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Spencer, that’s so lame.”

In that way he always did, he so charmingly replied, “How fitting for us.”

“Rude,” I muttered, finally finding the strength to sit up from my position on his lap. The world only spun for a second as I reoriented myself. He seemed equally grateful, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“What else do you want to make fun of me for?” Spencer said with a smile, watching as I reached into the small basket and pulled out a small clementine. I ran through the questions in my head, trying to decide which one to spend our limited time on.

“Okay,” I decided, “What did you think the first time you saw me?”

His face scrunched up with the leftover embarrassment from our very first meeting, during which the first thing he had ever done to me was lie. It had been a flattering one, though.

As I popped a section of the small citrus fruit into my mouth, I noticed the way he licked his own lips. The sight caused butterflies to flurry in my stomach, and I wondered which was more appealing to him; the mouthwatering scent of oranges or the idea of slipping something else between my lips.

“I thought... that you were beautiful and intriguing. And I was right.”

I got my answer to my preceding thought, because he had quickly wrapped his hand around the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss with crushing force. For someone who wasn’t the biggest fan of public displays of affection, he certainly didn’t mind kissing me like this.

Despite how deep and hard it was, it ended far too quickly. I sucked on my bottom lip as he left, staring up at him with wonder and devoted attention.

“Why was I intriguing?”

He clearly hadn’t thought that far ahead, probably hoping that the kiss alone would distract me from asking any more questions about that night. Unable to get out of it now, though, he just shrugged with a nervous chuckle, “You... were looking at me?”

My laugh, on the other hand, was full bodied as I pushed him away from me with just enough force that he actually almost toppled over.

“That was it? Because I looked at you?”

It seemed so silly, but I could tell by the way he responded that he meant it. He had told me before, on that night actually, that he wasn’t used to women showing him attention. But surely, he must just be missing it. He was an amazing man.

“I don’t know. There’s just something about you.” He paused between his words, taking a deep breath before attempting to work through his thoughts, “Like... like things just revolve around you. You have this intense gravitational pull that just told me that I had to get closer to you or I wouldn’t be able to survive.”

Fighting back the blush quickly forming on my cheeks, I struggled to maintain my typical aloof nature. I couldn’t have him getting a swelled head just because he could string together a couple cute sentences.

“Are you calling me a star, Dr. Reid?”

“I guess I am, yeah.” He hit me back with that confidence he rarely displayed outside of our play. I loved to see it like this. It made me feel like I was actually with him, rather than any manicured person he’d created to suit the needs of the current situation.

“If you felt that strongly about it, then why lie and say you weren’t checking me out? I could’ve left, you know.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Yeah, but I thought about it.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. There had been a couple of times during that night that I almost cut my losses—admitted that we were just too different to ever be compatible. Thank god I’d ignored that flawed instinct.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. Have you looked at your boyfriend? I’m so weird.”

The ease with which he flouted his eccentricities brought a smile to my face, and I shook my head as I tried to fight back in his defense. “You’re not that weird.”

“Are you joking? Look at yourself. You’re—You’re normalcy personified! No, actually, you’re not even that. You’re this... beautiful, smart, talented young girl and I’m just an old man who’s hoping to keep you around long enough that you forget you have better options out there.”

The longer he spoke, the more my jaw dropped open. Eventually, I had devolved into a fit of laughter.

“Dr. Reid, you can’t seriously be telling me that you think I am out of your league!”

“I mean—!” he started, but I wasn’t going to allow him to even entertain the thought. I clapped my hand over his mouth, nearly climbing onto his lap to hush any noises he attempted to make.

“No way!” I shouted, “Shut up!”

Instead of trying to wrench my hand away, his hands came to rest on my hips. I could feel the smile spreading across his cheeks under my fingers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Spencer. Fucking FBI Agent with three PhDs. Get out of here.”

He began bouncing his leg under me, and when I looked down to see what he was doing, I was shocked to feel a wetness on my palm. Ripping my hand away, I looked at my hand to see the swipe of saliva over the skin.

“Did you just fucking lick me?!” I screeched, unable to comprehend what had just happened, staring at my boyfriend with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I touched the ground with this hand! What are you doing?!”

“Yeah, I’m definitely going to rinse my mouth with bleach when we get home. But it was worth it, to see that look on your face.”

He went to wipe his own face, but I still couldn’t get over the fact my hand was fucking wet. So I took my hand once more, wiping the residue of his own spit back over his cheek. Surprisingly, he just let me do it, laughing as he only slightly tilted his head back.

“Nasty old pervert,” I joked, rolling my body off him and sitting on own once more.

“You’re very mean when you’re nice to me.” Spencer pouted.

I was distracted, trying to get my hair to stay out of my face and mouth as the wind started to whip through the park. Still, I managed to say a few very important words of warning.

“Yeah, well, get used to it, bud.”

Taking pity on my obvious distress, he reached out to grab my arm, tugging me back over to him. “Come here, little girl.” he instructed while I crawled over on all fours to sit between his legs.

I was going to ask him what he was planning when I felt his hands begin threading through my hair. I sat patiently, recognizing the pattern he was weaving.

“... When did you learn how to braid hair? Did your mom teach you?”

“My mom has short hair.” It was an evasive, but truthful answer, so I didn’t press it. I was sure I would find out more about his family as time went on. I just had to keep reminding myself that we had all the time in the world to get to know each other.

“I never learned how to braid hair specifically. I’m just applying the same pattern I would with a knot or a puzzle.”

“How romantic.” I gasped, tucking my hands between my legs as I enjoyed the way it felt for him to play with my hair.

It was always bizarre, to consider the way he could be so soft in moments like this. Or rather, that he could be so far the opposite at other times. In my heart, he was always the kind, goofy man I had met that night at the bar.

But I’d seen him angry, depressed, and in pain. I’d seen him desperate and scared. Basically, the only way I hadn’t seen Spencer Reid was however he was at work. Part of me wished that I could; it was obvious he was good at it and, to a certain degree, enjoyed it.

Then again, when I know he does things like get shot at, it makes it a little bit harder to be interested in. I couldn’t imagine getting that phone call one day while they loaded him into the back of an ambulance... or worse.

“Ah, the things I do for love.” His calm, smooth voice tore me from the destructive thoughts and back into his warm embrace.

“Hey, Spencer, I have a serious question.”

“Well, that’s terrifying.” He joked, holding out his hand for my hair tie, which I happily gave him. I hated to admit that he did a better job at braiding my hair than I’d ever done. Freaking stupid genius stuff.

“When do I get to say it back?”

I swear, I felt a chill spread through the air between us. His entire body froze, his hands stuck mixed with the elastic as he tied off the braid.

It was an intense, unwelcome flashback to the second night I’d spent with him, when we had talked about things too serious, too soon.

Terrified, I immediately cut off anything he might have been able to say, muttering, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

Letting my hair slip from his fingers, he let his hand drag along my spine. I wished I could see the look on his face, but I didn’t dare turn around.

“I’m sorry.” He said after another moment of silence, and it physically pained me the way the words fell from his lips.

“Don’t apologize,” I said in the cheeriest tone possible, trying to lighten the mood, “I just wanted to test the waters.”

With that, I spun around dramatically, noting the way his face lit up once it saw the smile on my own. “And they are frozen solid!”

He laughed at the enthusiasm I displayed, swiftly throwing his arms around me in a tight embrace.

“Well, I’ll just have to warm you up, then.” My whole body in his arms, he yanked me off the ground and onto himself. I struggled playfully under his arms, not paying any attention to the other people in the park watching our childish antics.

“Hypothermia is very dangerous, after all,” he lectured, “Let me take your temperature.” Burying his face in my neck, I felt the familiar overstimulation that accompanied frantic, light touches of my sides.

“Stop!” I burst with laughter, “You’re tickling me!”

The movements all halted, but only to be followed with a terrifyingly devious tone of Spencer’s voice. “You’re ticklish?”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Oh, I love this information.” And just like that, he began his onslaught. His fingers danced over every inch of my sides, his lips pressing quick, frenzied kisses against the underside of my chin. The harder I laughed, the more he continued.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” I screeched like a banshee, trying to slip from his hands or turn around—anything to get the upper hand again.

After nearly wrestling him, I managed to get both hands on his shoulders and shove him back against the blanket. The force with which we hit the ground knocked the air from his lungs, and he groaned at my body weight on his chest.

“Okay, okay! You win!” He yelled, holding his hands in front of me while struggling not to touch the ground with his head. “I’m not risking more surface area of contact with the ground to fight you.”

“(Y/n) emerges victorious!” I grabbed hold of both of his hands, shaking his arms with all my leftover adrenaline while I cheered myself on.

“Dork,” he muttered under his breath before he grabbed my sides, laughing at the way I instinctually jerked. I threw myself off of him to avoid the potential tickles, landing clumsily next to him. And Spencer, being the genius, recognized it as the perfect opportunity to pin me against the ground.

Wasting no time, he pressed the same instruments which had begun the great tickle war against my own lips. My hands found their way to his cheeks, pulling him closer as his tongue easily found mine. Just like it always did with us, it felt like the world was disappearing around us.

All I could feel, smell, taste, think, was Spencer Reid. His love and admiration flowed from him with ease, and I was happy to take it in. After a few minutes, we had to break apart. We might like a little bit of exhibitionism, but I was pretty sure neither of us actually wanted to tear the other’s clothes off in a park.

Could you imagine if people knew he was an FBI Agent? I was sure they already thought our age gap strange. But I didn’t care what they thought. Because right now, we were happy.

“I’m the dork you love, though.” I whispered against his lips.

“Indubitably,” he mumbled back, starting to laugh at the way the word sounded in our teenage love-like delirium.

“Now who’s the dork.” I teased as I smoothed my hands over his shoulders.

“Hm. Still you. And a little bit me, too.”

Laughter was bursting from me again.

“You have grass in your hair, idiot.” Before he could do anything about it, my hands were all over it, ruffling his hair wildly out of place. He just squeezed his eyes shut, letting me ruin any semblance of maturity or control from his appearance.

“Wow. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” I chirped, accepting the small peck he gave me before he started to retreat from his spot above me.

“You ready to head home?”

“Yeah, just about,” he sighed like it was a terrible thing to do. He hadn’t even wanted to come on this picnic!

“I promised to check you for ticks, after all.”

Ah, the real thing we were both looking forward to. Although, I was sure he was going to take it way too seriously for a few minutes before we devolve into sex on the bathroom floor.

“Mmm. I’m thrilled.” I replied honestly, struggling to sit up now that my body had already slipped into Spencer Reid is on Top of You mode. It was one of those rare moments when I wondered if there really was a female version of blue balls, because I was almost certain I had it.

“I have to stop at the bank first, though. I’ll go throw this stuff in the car and we can just walk over.”

“Sure thing, old man.” I huffed as I stood up, holding the much lighter basket while he collected the blanket. Once he took it all from me, I glanced over at the nearby bench with a pout.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You’re cute,” he smiled, kissing my cheek like it were a more serious goodbye, “I’ll be right back.”

While I waited for him, I cautiously watched the large, dark clouds rolling over the horizon. They threatened to swallow the sunshine that we’d basked in less than hour before. I tried not to think anything of it.

It wasn’t a metaphor; it wasn’t an omen. It was just the weather.

Spencer must have seen the anxiety, because when he came back, he gingerly placed his arms around me from behind, resting his head on my chin.

“I guess we have good timing. It looks like it’s about to storm.” I absently spoke, my eyes still fixed on the sky.

“Yeah, typical finicky Virginia weather, I guess.”

I wasn’t sure if I actually heard it in his voice or made it up, but I swore Spencer was also trying to stop himself from thinking something of the rain. I was probably just being paranoid. It was just a storm. They happened.

“Well, let’s get going so you can cash your check in person like an eighty year old man.” I joked, grabbing his hand and dragging him back towards the exit to the park.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. There are other people my age who don’t trust cell phone banking transactions.”

“Are there, though?”

He just shook his head, deciding it wasn’t worth it to get into it with me. Typical young kids, he must have thought, so irresponsible. But he didn’t say it, just held my hand on the short, quiet walk to the ornate building on the corner of two busy streets.

I swung our hands dramatically back and forth, earning an unamused, but still playful, glare from him.

“Your age is showing,” he pointed out before licking his lips and avoiding my eyes. I glared right back before responding, “Your stick-in-the-mud-ness is showing.”

“Not a word. Not a phrase. Not a thing.”

He stopped our hands dead in their tracks as he crossed the threshold, and for a second, I thought he was going to seriously be a spoilsport. But right when I least expected it, he swung our hands again and I nearly smacked into another person.

We both laughed, with me blurting out a frantic, “I’m sorry!”

“So immature,” he chastised, shaking his head with disapproval.

“I can’t believe you. You are such an asshole!”

The familiar hum and beeping of the metal detectors threatened to dislodge memories from the back of my mind, and I shook my head to try to get rid of them again. Spencer glanced over with concern but didn’t mention it.

I was grateful. I didn’t want to talk about it. Once we had passed security, he settled into the line like he’d done it a million times before. But me, being a normal person who used my banking app to cash checks, felt strangely out of place.

Figuring it might be a minute, and that the ride home would be significantly longer, I decided to go get any residual dirt and grass out of my hair. After all, it would get in the way of our tick searching activities.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere.” I pointed an accusing finger at him as my arm slipped from around his. His hand followed me until he couldn’t hold on any longer, an innocent, lovesick smile on his face.

“You know I could never leave you behind.”

As cheesy as it was, it still made me smile. My heart ached with the saccharine sweetness of his affections. I’d gotten so used to them so fast; I couldn’t even imagine a world without them anymore.

“Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.”

“You know I will, little girl.”

That storm cloud feeling was brewing in my chest again as I pressed a kiss to my fingers, blowing it across the ever-growing distance between us. Why did he feel so far away so suddenly?

I tried not to pay it any mind, humming You Are My Sunshine and imagining Spencer’s terrible singing voice instead. Looking at my reflection, I realized why my cheeks had been getting sore. Because there, staring back at me, was a smile on a neutral face.

I don’t even know when it happened, but it hit me in that bathroom of a bank at 12:47pm on a Saturday that I had fallen madly in love with Spencer Reid. And it suddenly made sense, why he didn’t want me to say it yet. Because I hadn’t realized it yet.

But now I had, and it filled every cell in my body. The blush on my cheeks was evidence of just how much I needed to let it out, to scream it from the rooftops, or at least in the lobby of this old bank.

There were so few things that could overwhelm the emotions I was feeling and rob me of this moment. My brain rioted against any sign of darkness or despair, clinging to the hope that I would be able to tell him soon.

So, when explosive booms rang through the bank, for a long second, I tried to convince myself they were thunder.

But they weren’t. The storm had indeed come, but it wasn’t responsible for the sounds that caused my heart to tear in two and shatter against the floor. The people outside the room were not screaming at the wrath of God, displayed with lightwork in the sky.

It was not thunder.

They were gunshots.

—————————————————

| Part 14 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spence reid #reid request #spencer reid request #fluff #h2m

1K notes · View notes

prinxlyart · 4 years

Note

just any individual toh character hc would SLAP. mebbe ur thoughts on the twins idk this is vague

Nah it’s cool, I can dig it let’s do this

I only put this under a line break cuz it got so long oops lol

Emira:

Defo has a stutter that she went through a lot of intensive and grueling speech therapy sessions for (when she was about 7 years old) that she hated. Amity and Edric both know this and know it’s a sensitive topic for her. They’ll tease her lightly about it, but never in front of anyone else and they know where to draw the line. In my last Vinera post, I mentioned how much Viney adores her stutter. She absolutely loves getting Emira flustered enough to start stuttering. She’s incredibly patient and understanding when it comes to Emira’s stutter and Em’s feelings about her stutter, and she helps Emira learn to be okay with it again. It’s nothing to be ashamed of (and it’s cute).

My girl likes carrots. Like, really likes carrots. As in she’ll eat them straight out of the ground if she’s given a chance to wash it first. She really loves carrots. This is only an issue later on after she and Viney start taking care of beasts together and Emira’s been caught eating their entire stock of carrots that’s meant for the beasts. Viney has to keep the carrots in a secret box away from Emira after that point.

Emira actually really loves beasts/animals but has never been good at handling them. Any time she’d try to approach an animal to pet it, it would try to bite her. She’d get extremely pouty whenever this happens because beasts/animals love Edric. It’s not until after she and Viney start dating that Viney actually starts teaching her how to approach different creatures and her love for creatures reignites.

Emira’s a giant pushover for Amity. Only Edric knows this because he’s also a pushover for her. If Amity ever found out what power she actually holds over them, they’d be in so much trouble. They mask their love for their sister with constant teasing. Yes of course they get annoyed by her, that’s how siblings are, especially when Amity tattles on them, but at the end of the day, they’d help Amity hide the body if she asked. (The few times they witnessed her crying by someone other than their parents, they had gone on a warpath. Nobody hurts Mittens.)

Defo had a brief infatuation with Luz for like 5 minutes before she realized how head-over-heels Amity was. As long as they’re both happy, that’s what matters. She’ll take that secret to her grave though.

L O V E S having her hair played with, but like, only with people she’s super comfortable with. She has so much hair (mostly due to her mother’s wishes) and any time they all have attend some fancy gathering, Emira has to be seen by a stylist in order to get all her hair into whatever wild fancy shape her mom wants for the event. That she hates more than life itself, but whenever she’s upset, Edric or Amity grabs her hair brush and just gently brushes her hair out until she’s chill again. (She absolutely melts when Viney starts playing with her hair). In an act of defiance and because she needed this Change, the moment she and her siblings leave the Blight Manor permanently, she cuts off all of her hair. It’s very reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. Viney loves it. Everyone loves it actually, but the biggest reactions come from Viney and Luz (they both love running their fingers through the newly cut hair because it’s so soft).

She likes to sing to herself when she’s alone. It’s rare that it ever happens because if she knows there’s other people in the same building as her, she won’t chance it. But when she knows she’s alone and no one will notice if she casts a silence bubble around herself so she can sing at the top of her lungs? You better believe she closes any doors or curtains in the area, locks everything, casts that spell and goes nuts. Her voice isn’t all that great, but it’s lovely when she’s singing quietly to herself while she does homework or something. On especially bad nights, Amity will ask her to sing to her. Emira sang to her once when they were like, 3 and 5 respectively, and it’s been their secret thing ever since for especially rough nights/nightmares.

Edric:

Yknow how James from Pokémon is just super good with Pokémon ?? Like, he knows how to treat them, he knows what they like, he asks them gently if they’d like to join them, etc. That’s exactly how Edric approaches creatures. He’s a natural with them, but he and his sister’s natural affinity for illusion magic kept him from pursuing that track of magic.

He’s always wanted a pet, but every time he brings it up to his parents, he’s met with the same firm No as always. He’s definitely gotten in trouble for trying to sneak wild creatures into the house to keep in his room. Thank Titan for Em’s cool new girlfriend who’s not only a multi-track student, but studying the exact subject he wants to study and is super eager to teach him everything she knows. He learns vicariously through her and helps her study for her tests. At first, Emira is suspicious of them, but she knows her brother wouldn’t be so cruel as to try to steal her girlfriend away from her. He’s just a dork.

My boy’s got a sweet tooth. He loves desserts and sweets and fluffy baked goods and often tries to sneak candies when he thinks no one is looking. Chocolate is a big weakness for him. When Luz introduces him to Human Sweets, he’s practically bouncing off the walls. Cotton candy??????? Flan?????? Dulce de Leche en Tabla??? He nearly passes out when Luz busts out what she calls a “chocolate fountain” and turns it on. Y’all remember that one image of a bird bathing in a chocolate fountain from a million years ago? That’s Edric.

Edric Blight LIVES to see his sisters laugh. He would pull all sorts of silly faces and dumb tricks to make Amity laugh when they were little. He still tries to make her laugh, but usually those have grown from giggles to disgruntled mumbling. He’ll never admit how much it breaks his heart and it’s not until he sees her laughing at something Luz has done that he has hope he may still be able to get her to laugh again (it’s also the first time he’s heard her laugh in years and it makes his heart soar in relief. He was almost certain their parents had stamped any concept of laughter out of her).

My boy Edric is so full of love and passion; actually quite similarly to Luz. What makes them different though is that Edric is Aromantic. He’s never had a crush in his life. He’s happy with his sisters and all of their friends and their family as it grows in the future. He has some best friends that he lives with for a while (after his sisters move in with their respective partners), but for the most part he’s chill. He loves his family, he loves spoiling his sisters’ kids, and he’s content with himself. It takes him a super long time to be content with himself, but he gets there. I will literally never get over the fact that his biggest fear is “being alone forever”. He’s never alone. He will always have his friends and family. And, thanks in large part to Luz, he has his parents back. His parents that actually were excited when he cast his first spell and tucked him in at night when he was a toddler, giving him kisses goodnight and pleasant dreams. Not the parents he’d run away from; those were the cold, uncaring, obsessed with fake concepts of popularity and status people he ran away from with his sisters. It took years, but Luz helped bring his real parents back. He loves getting to know them for who they are now that he’s an adult too.

He and Gus become best friends. Like, dumb buddy cop movie levels of best friends. They get into so much trouble when it’s just the two of them and they have the time of their lives. At first, he and Em just sort of took Gus under their wing because he was a little bit of an outcast in their homeroom for being so much younger than everyone else. But he’s a friend of Luz’s and a friend of Amity’s after a while, which automatically makes him cool in their book. They soon find themselves actually enjoying his company, rather than just protecting him from stray bullies, and they find his ability with illusion magic exciting. They themselves are considered prodigies so having another prodigy to show off practice with is super stimulating for all of them. As the years go on (and Emira spends more time with Viney) Edric starts calling more and more often for “Bro Time” where they go do stupid teenage stuff or test the limits of their magic or even just hang out and talk for hours. It’s actually all this time hanging out with just Gus that Edric discovers he’s aro; somehow it comes out that Gus has developed a crush on Edric and (major age differences aside) Edric realizes he’s never had a crush on anyone before. It’s a conversation that sucks a lot, but they’re besties and they manage to get through it. Gus maybe needs to take a day with his original gal pals to just cry about it, but he gets over it just fine. He also helps Edric understand what it means to be aromantic. Well, with the help of Luz and Willow as well; Luz is a walking dictionary for lgbt terminology and Willow’s super good at helping dissect feelings (when they’re not her own cough’outofsightoutofmind’cough).

I genuinely don’t know what he might pursue for a career. Part of me wants him to be independent and do his own thing, but a much stronger part of me wants him to just be part of Viney as Emira’s business. He loves creatures so much and he loves taking care of them, but I don’t want him to feel like a third wheel around his twin sister either. Maybe he becomes a dual track teacher at Hexside specifically for healing and beast keeping so more students can learn about Service Creatures. He can substitute for the Illusion track homeroom when needed, but he’s super passionate about the Service Creature sub-track he and Viney pitch to Principal Bump.

#prinxly inquiries #anonymous #the owl house #emira blight #edric blight #toh headcanons #I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about these two

99 notes · View notes

drcrushers · 3 years

Text

something i wrote on just for fun. it’s probably a little dumb, but here we are.

Your smile could out-shine the sun.

It had started out innocent enough. An envelope tucked into her momma’s mailbox and addressed to her while she’d been out. Not one to get messages except from Hermes, she’d opened it with some curiosity. A letter, beautifully written in an unfamiliar hand and unsigned at the bottom. Not quite a love letter, but something almost like it. A request to write back, to put it into the mailbox and it would get to the secret author in return.

Fuck it, why not?

She knew it was probably a mortal just showing fondness; she’d gotten letters like it before. But there’s something rather . . . fine. Poetic, in a sense. Kind. Made her feel a bit silly reading it over and over again, but Persephone is in a decent mood and decides to write back to at least thank them for the lovely letter.

So she does.

She keeps it simple. Nothing flowery. Thanks the supposed author for the flattery in the way she does all the mortals when they give her offerings. It’s nice to write a letter; she ain’t in a while. She and Hades ain’t exchanged them in years, he doesn’t have time for them. Much like he doesn’t have time for her, but that’s neither here nor there.

She writes back, signs it sloppily and tucks it into the mailbox.

Persephone doesn’t expect another one back.

I can’t stop smiling when I read your letter, so I hope you don’t mind my reply.

But there it is a few days later, the same handwriting with her name on the front. Which is strange - mortals tend to refer to her by titles, not her name. Afraid of saying it, they’d said once. Invoking her wrath. She’d called it a load of horse shit, but mortals tended to do things their way and she was content on letting them keep up that practice long as they wanted.

This one seemed different.

The letter was a direct response. The same flowery language, delicate and sweet. Flirty, if she didn’t know any better. How flattering. But now she’s just curious - and part of her is spiteful, too. If Hades knew, she could only imagine his fit of jealousy. Good.

Persephone replies.

And so a summer long fling begins. In words of course, nothing more. The letters become a brightness in her days of work. She looks forward to getting them, reading them, and drafting up replies. She develops a collection of them in her vanity drawer and the stack only grows as the summer goes on. A hidden secret, almost. Something her momma or Hades can’t intrude on or say she can’t. Maybe it’s selfish or stupid, but she doesn’t care. Not like it’ll matter come winter. The poor mortal will be dead or have forgotten her, surely. They often do when she goes down to the underworld. Back to her husband who’ll no doubt drive her to the depths of insanity again.

Hell, she might not even make it to the end of the summer. Maybe he’ll come get her early - again. She tries not to think of it, and spends her days bringing the summertime to those who need it most. That’s how she operates. The letters are a nice break and she loses herself in them late into the evenings. Rereading them. Writing back. Pretending she has a friendship-maybe-more with someone who certainly doesn’t build capitalistic hellscapes for what is supposed to be her benefit.

It’s not the butterflies she got from first meeting her husband, but the feeling is something similar. She can’t deny it. She genuinely smiles for what feels like the first time in years when she reads the letters or replies.

We should meet before you go.

The request comes as the summer begins to fade. Fall and winter are close on it’s heels. She thinks immediately it’s a bad idea - but Hermes, who knows now, only encourages it oddly enough. A night out before she’s confined in darkness for six months. It’s not a bad idea.

So she accepts.

---

Persephone hates her reflection.

It shows too many lines, too many wrinkles that have shown up over the years. Her hair is unruly, curlier than her momma’s and it snags everything in the fields in it’s grasp that leaves her plucking foxtails and other burrs out of it for ages. Even down to the shade of her skin - none of it seems particularly beautiful compared to her momma or their other relatives up top. Most of the time she doesn’t give a damn; some days she stares at her reflection and wonders what others must see in her. What her husband had seen in her that day in the garden some centuries ago. What made her so different? So beautiful when there were a plethora of other nymphs, demi-gods, and outright goddesses who outranked her in that regard.

She huffs, drags her fingers across her face. She’s getting old. Too old. Vaguely she wonders if, as a goddess of life, if she’ll end up grey and decrepit and still trying to garden? An old crone, meant to be the embodiment of life. Hera is as old as her momma and still somehow looks decades younger - then again, Hera doesn’t live in the mortal realm, and doesn’t do physical damned labor. Frankly she wonders how a woman like her survived ten years of war, but that’s besides the point. Much as she loathes her own reflection, Persephone would rather be wrinkled and grey than live on that mountain half the year.

She toys with a small pot of dark charcoal eyeliner, well used and worn before picking up a small brush with which to apply it with. She remembers using wild berries to stain her lips long before her momma ever let her near an ounce of make up, trying to make herself look like what she imagined the ones up on the mountain looked like. Ethereal, beautiful, striking women - as a girl she’d had no idea how awful and cruel they could be at the time and simply wanted to embody them. Now she mostly tries to be everything they aren’t out of sheer spite. She uses a rich plum color against her lips, and decides she looks decent enough in the reflection that blinks back at her.

She doesn’t know why she’s doing this - it’s stupid. But she’s just bitter and angry enough at her husband to spite him, too, and Persephone ain’t always made the best decisions sometimes. Hermes had only encouraged her, clearly eager to get her out of her own mind for a night and forget about her crippling marriage.

Harmless night of flirting could do her good. Remind her she ain’t an old washed up hag. Morale boost and all that. Not as if she wasn’t spending the evening in his bed - though the more bitter part of her says it might do her husband some good to think so. Sober his ass right up to keep him acting like a damned moron. Besides, she’s been writing with this stranger all summer. The letters have been her life and Persephone would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious and intrigued. Eager to meet this stranger who’d spent his summer writing to her as well. Clearly he cared and if Persephone could give him a night of enjoyable company (sans anything below the belt) before winter claimed him, so be it.

Huffing, Persephone tries to fuss with her hair - and decides it’s a lost cause. Why does she care so much? She shouldn’t. But she tries. Because Hades ain’t given her the excuse in a while. Might as well enjoy the night, even if it won’t lead to nothing. She ain’t that type - even if she wanted to be. Persephone has been fiercely loyal to her husband and knows he’s the same; they’re just a damned wreck when it comes to communicating. Maybe she can practice on this little date.. It’s the first time she’s given in to Hermes’ encouraging in a while - who she knows would rather see her happy than anything and thinks Hades is the source of all her misery. He’s half right. Truth is she does a lot of misery to herself because she can’t swallow her own damn pride or some other bullshit. Much as Hades has built the wall between them, Persephone’s been supplying him with the bricks for years.

She doesn’t dress fancy. Her usual is good enough, still smelling of the flowers and pollen and the warmth of the sun stitched into the fabric. It’s her favorite. Maybe that’s why Hades had replicated it in black for down below, the dusting of diamonds a nod to how he viewed her as a gem to be displayed. A gown of darkness that was everything her favorite summer dress wasn’t. She doesn’t remember where she got it, just that it’s comfortable and flows freely enough not to restrict her. In the other she feels caged, chest tight and pained when she tries to breathe too deeply. It’s in her head, she knows, but the difference still matters.

Satisfied she looks semi-decent enough to mingle with mortals, Persephone half gallops down the steps in the way she always has at her momma’s house. Ain’t been her house in a while. Ain’t felt like home since she ran off down below. Still, it serves as a roof over her head when she’s up top and her momma is still kind enough most of the time, eager to have her home. Demeter is out in the fields so she isn’t there to throw a comment her way as she leaves the house, the evening air slightly more crisp than usual. A sign that winter would be coming on soon - a sign that she’d be headed back down below in the not too distant future. Frankly she’s surprised Hades ain’t come for her already. Her stomach twists at the thought.

Hermes’ bar isn’t far, the town a small scattering of lights in the growing dim light of day. Small houses gathered together, a quaint little place that had been perfect for Demeter, apparently. The bar was one of the larger buildings, music and voices already adrift out the open door. She can’t remember a time when it wasn’t crowded. Since she’s frequented crowds have only grown - Persephone remembers being worshipped at altars carved of marble and stone; now there’s only the bar that carries her token of favors, her mortals far too eager to buy her a drink in some parody of once bloody sacrifices. She doesn’t complain; they’re good at picking wine.

As always there are gazes that turn her way as she approaches and Persephone plasters a smile across her face. She’s well practiced these days, pretending to be happy. The mortals don’t notice and greet her as always. Raise their cups, toast to their patroness who tries - but it’s hard when old man winter comes early and won’t let her go until late. Hard to keep an entire world going when she gets a fraction of time to bring decent harvests. Still seems no matter how hard she tries there are always ones who don’t make it through the winter. The ones missing from the tables in the bar. She may not remember their exact faces, but she knows they’re missing. Knows these places should be filled by healthy warm bodies - and instead there are only fleeting ghosts in the chairs instead.

“Was wonderin’ if you’d show up.” Hermes remarks lightly, pouring her drink before she can even reach the bar proper. “I always do. Show up. Reckon it’s like clockwork these days.” Persephone replies, grabbing the glass as he finishes and taking a long swig. Immediately the warmth spreads from her belly out, and she knows she’ll be numb by the end of the night. Hopefully.

“Sit yourself down. Or make the rounds. Whatever ya like. Your friend ain’t here yet.”

She snorts. “Of course not.”

Holding tight to her drink, Persephone does a turn about the room. The mortals are usually pleased to see her, leech off the warmth she naturally radiates. A smile, a laugh, a dance - it’s all too familiar to her and she’s happy to help in the ways she can. If they’re gonna die, they might as well die happy. Either way in the end they all come to her in the underworld. Once she could have granted them some semblance of the afterlife, but now they all toil away in those damned factories and mines. But they don’t need to know it. Not yet. Not now.

She loses track of time as some point, because Hermes suddenly grabs her by the elbow and they do a little twirl. Her body is less tight, the alcohol already working easily into her system to let her at least enjoy the night without struggling to forget about her shithole marriage.

“Your date is here.” He grins.

“Ain’t a date.” She teases. “Least, better not let my man hear you say that.”

“Won’t hear it from me, sister.” Hermes winks, and turns her nearly into the arms of another. A sharp, delightful feeling races up her arms and down her spine the second her hands touch the rough ones of the other figure.

She knows who it is without question, without even looking up. A smile comes unbidden before she can stop it.

“It’s you.” She whispers, one of those hands coming up to tuck beneath her chin, to bring her gaze to his. Her heart races and she wants to laugh.

Hades smiles.

“It’s me.”

#hadestown #inspired by the pina colada song ngl

30 notes · View notes

nadiineross · 3 years

Text

so this is spiderbyte wip which i cannot be bothered to finish but i thought it would be cute n funny if sombra makes them go on a legal vacay together like they go on tripadvisor and dress up like tourists and theyre using their sick days or smth not that i think talon would give either of them sick days since its a terrorist organization.. lol ANYWAY hv fun :)

Widow has no idea how Sombra pulled it off, but she’s hardly surprised since doing unthinkable, and unthinkably stupid, things is sort of Sombra’s schtick. So, here she is, standing in a commercial airport with a neck pillow wedged around her peach-painted elbow and two 4-wheel suitcases at her hip, waiting for her girlfriend to finish taking a piss.

She is, on some level, excited for this actually legal, Talon-cleared weekend-long vacation. It’s not that she thinks she’ll get bored or hate it—after all, Sombra had organized everything and Sombra is one among maybe three people who give a fuck about what Widow thinks about things—but she wonders, sometimes, about the genuineness of her own emotions. She experiences them shallowly. Like they’re dialed down. On occasion, experiences them like a choice; a matter of whether or not she wants to expend energy on reacting to something.

Because of this, she wonders if she fakes them and does it so well, she’s fooled herself. But then what difference would that make?

Yes, she’s happy to spend time with Sombra. Always. It just doesn’t matter to her at all the how and when of it. Doesn’t feel like there’s anything significant about going to a different country with Sombra, partake in new activities with her.

To Sombra, it’s different. She’s been giddy about this for a week, constantly nudging Widow so she’ll lean over and look at whatever part of the travel plan Sombra’s putting together. Sombra feels the urge to see new places and do new things with people she likes to spend time with.

Widow’s okay with sitting in Sombra’s room, with the hip LED strip lights she sees in the “tick tocks” Sombra shows her, doing nothing in between messing around on the bed. Widow’s okay with flying to ass nowhere, Europe, to watch Sombra’s back and shoot people. That’s going somewhere new; that’s doing something new. It’s all the same to her.

But then again, Sombra wants this, so it’s automatically different.

And that’s the extent of Widow’s feelings about this.

Sombra comes bounding out the airport bathroom just as Widow considers going in to check. As soon as she spots Widow, she scowls and moves the pillow from Widow’s arm to her neck. Again.

“You promised,” she reminds Widow.

Widow looks at her impassively. Considers it.

She promised she would “get in the holiday spirit,” but that was before she had known about Sombra’s ridiculous definition of holiday spirit. Still, a promise is a promise. Besides, this was Widow’s gift to Sombra. Specifically, Widow had told Sombra that she gets one do-stupid-things free pass, happy anniversary, chérie, come back to bed.

One occasion where Sombra can drag Widow into something and Widow will comply without complaint, all within reason, of course. And Sombra picks a vacation.

Sombra, who has become a master at staring contests with Widow, having dated her for a year and a handful of weeks now, waits her out. Finally, Widow sighs and reaches up to button the donut pillow at her throat.

“Looks great, babe,” Sombra says brightly, and begins to wheel her suitcase towards the departure hall proper.

Widow sighs again and follows after her.

“Does this even count as a legal vacation if we are using fake documents?”

“Say it louder,” Sombra grumbles, “I don’t think airport security got that.”

Widow tries not to smile. She takes in a deep breath and, indeed, louder, says: “Does this even c—”

“I hate that you think you’re funny now,” Sombra huffs. “Dating me is such an ego boost for people.”

“People?” Widow muses. Sombra ignores that. Whatever. She changes tracks to something she’s actually curious about. “What’s the name on your passport?”

“Sombra,” says Sombra.

Widow squints at her. “Sombra what? You don’t have a last name.”

“Spider,” Sombra deadpans, “Obviously, it doesn’t say Sombra. Why the hell would I put that on my passport? That’s dumb. I’m very good at being a criminal, you know?”

“Yes, baby,” says Widow, “the best.”

Sombra rolls her eyes but the edges of her mouth twitch up before she can control it. Widow can’t help but smile herself. “It’s Jane Smith.”

“That… is so boring.” She wrinkles her nose. “And so American.”

“What? You don’t think I look exactly like a Jane Smith?” Sombra asks.

Widow stares at her.

“Whatever.” Sombra sniffs, snootily, and rubs a hand over the buzzed side of her head. It’s grown out a bit—Widow will shave it for her soon.

“You are terrible with aliases.”

Sombra had given her a fake passport earlier today, back at base. Widow’s now May Parker, a Canadian national since Sombra didn’t have faith in Widow’s fake accent skills and told her, quite condescendingly, to stick to French. The name was a reference to something, Widow’s not sure what, just thankful that Sombra hadn’t ended up printing the name of the first French historical figure that came to mind. Napoleon Bonaparte probably wouldn’t have gone over too well with airport authorities.

At check-in, the woman barely bats an eye at their too-nondescript names. It’s likely not that rare for people to come through airports with fake names in this day and age anyway. Probably, it’s quite rare to have terrorists doing it for vacation, but Widow has to admit their outfits don’t quite match up with that image.

Sombra picks their seats as Widow hauls their suitcases onto the belt. When all’s said and done, Sombra loops their arms together and pulls them towards security.

Sombra keeps glancing up at Widow’s face while they wait in line. It’s her only tell that she’s nervous and Widow can guess why. The sunscreen-like balm they’d smeared all over her, to make her look normal, should hold up for the duration of their flight. Though, she didn’t trust Talon scientists, she could trust their science, so she’s not worried about it.

Anyway, it wasn’t the 20th century. Most body mods were socially acceptable now. Sombra, in all her cyborg glory, shuffles past security with no problem.

It’s another half hour wait at their gate before they finally board. Sombra takes the middle seat, leaving Widow with the window. The aisle seat is, thankfully, empty. She’s not sure if Sombra did that on purpose, but she doesn’t particularly care either way, so she doesn’t ask.

Sombra reaches over and taps both of their mini-TV screens at the same time. A moment later, The Room (2003) begins playing on their screens simultaneously. Sombra makes a triumphant little sound and cuddles into Widow’s side.

Widow drapes her arm around Sombra and sighs.

A brief shitty movie marathon later, they’re touching down in Hokkaido, Japan, and Sombra’s tugging her gangly girlfriend out her seat. Widow’s vaguely tired and has already made Sombra promise they’re calling in a favour from Akande for a Talon plane back home after this. It takes a lot of brain power for her to keep up with Sombra sometimes, especially when it comes to silly things like enjoying bad movies.

(Sombra tells her it isn’t brain power that she is expending; rather, it’s called the emotional labour of loving someone.)

By the time they get to their lodging, Widow’s just about ready to pass out.

She pushes the first door she sees and falls into bed. Outside, she hears the rapid padding of Sombra’s footsteps as she explores every nook and cranny in the cabin.

She’s not sure how long she’s been lying down, but next she opens her eyes, the sky is dark blue and Sombra’s face is alarmingly close to hers.

Sombra grins and touches her cheeks. “Hey, you should get up.”

Widow blinks lazily at her. Then: “No.” She rolls around and closes her eyes again. “We’re on vacation.”

“We have to wipe that shit off you,” Sombra says, a note of affection colouring her tone.

She allows herself a few more seconds before she sits up with a huff and follows Sombra into the en suite. It’s a nice bathroom: a big tub, classy tiling, and there’s a big window facing a snowy mountainside, framed by gnarly trees.

note: and like i had this idea that sombra had her own agenda picking japan like mayb to hack into some mountain base but mostly i wanted to write widows skiing skin:) and they do stupid shit in the snow and eat good food and roll around in the sheets in their cozy lil cabin during a snowstorm and at the end these two who hv j been like. a pair of random tourists roll outta there in a bigass talon plane, guns equipped on the outside and everything, everyone else is alarmed, shitting themselves, but sombras j chilling in widows lap as they head back to base, blissfully unaware

#spiderbyte #spiderbytefics #hehe i wrote a full 1 shot on my main if anyone cares:)

6 notes · View notes

redxblueihateloveyou · 4 years

Note

I’m quite active on the free! Fanbase and something that I’ve noticed is that the reason makoharu is as popular as it is, is because majority of its stans are people who watched free! Once like 5 years ago. They also tend to be Makoto stans and they just want it because “mako deserves it” A lot of the people who actually are into free! or focus on Haru’s feelings always ship Rinharu, and it’s because if you look at what Haru wants it’s clear that he wants Rin.

Yeah, it’s true. Lots of ppl told me that they’ve seen it completely differently after rewatching it at a mature age. But even though I can’t relate to it when it comes to anime, cause I’ve started watching it at 19, I still don’t get for what reason you can hate Rin at 13, but love at 20, you know. Just because I really can’t find any reason to hate Rin. At all. Maybe it’s cause my mom stuffed me with books since I were young, but I’ve never had such thing like I hated some character and then reread some book or rewatched some movie later and it was like a complete opposite. But at the same time, my mom recently showed her kids in class BNHA and she said that many asked “why Bakugou is so evil?” which I think is pretty dumb for a 13/14 olds to be so shallow minded.

I mean, you can not fully understand grown up stuff, like you know, disney cartoons have something that only adults will get, but generally you should be able to see past the surface. But also I just don’t think you can appreaciate Free! being very young, cause as I said before, even tho it’s not that deep and silly at times, the beauty of it to me is that it’s so fucking relatable to ppl who’s been though stuff like that. Like not knowing what to do with yourself after school even tho you have great options.. I’ve been though that. Wanting to do what you love, but being afraid that this being your job will ruin it for you... check. Recently I’ve lost my grandpa, and this was the first time I went through smth like that, and it was a horrible time for my mom and I don’t live with my parents, but actually that picture of Rin from Yakusoku was stuck in my head and it moved me to get it together and do stuff for her, I probably wouldn’t before. So it’s not as silly as it seems if you know the feeling.

When it comes to Makoto, I’ve talked about it in this post already, I do not get why he has so many fans. I find it super sad. Cause every smart adult would never see Makoto as a reliable person in life (and that’s like the main button makoharu try to push). This fandom constantly markets him as an extremely good and etc while they dont even see that usually he’s either spineless, either plain stupid (that ocean saving Rei scene just pisses me off so fucking much to this day). I feel like the “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” is about him seriously. Every good friend can bring food, but at the end of the day it’s the tough situations that counts at least to me. And when it comes to them, if anybody noticed we’re on our own. Or we need to call Rin.

About “he deserves it”... And Haru doesn’t deserve anything in their opinion? Being with the person who makes him feel alive and his heart go boom-boom, who makes him reach for the stars and see the world, makes him want silly things like rainbows in the pool... that doesn’t matter, right? haha

I think when you ship something, you should think about both sides. You can’t just love one and don’t care for other... it leads to... well, this. Cause Rin makes Haru the best version of himself and Haru makes Rin the best version of himself. And that’s how it usually works in literally all of my ships.

Also this whole thing the makoharu fans are saying remind me of Yokozawa from “Sekaiichi Hatsukoi”, who went “but I was with him all the time, when you weren’t.. you left”. That’s not how it even works dude, and just because there was a misunderstanding doesn’t mean they can’t love each other anymore. It wasn’t Onodera’s fault and Rin’s fault, yeah, they left in the heat of the moment, but sometimes circurmstances play a bigger role. Plus let’s be honest, it needed to happen, otherwise they wouldn’t be this amazing and strong as they’re right now. That “I loved you before, but the person I’m in love with right now is you in the present.” got stuck in my head forever. I truly believe that Haru loves Rin even more as he is right now, same goes to Wangxian, Mikayuu and lots of ships. Separation is sad, but sometimes its needed for characters to get to where they are now.

I feel like this ship also started at times, when it was “very cool” to brand every ship ever as “abusive” for no reason and I laughed a lot at this phase, especially young ppl tended to throw stuff like “he’s not good for her/him”, when even a light argument happened. And that’s just so dumb, cause I felt like most didn’t even know what they’re talking about, it was just “cool” xD. I’m glad this phase has passed tho, cause it started to get.. not funny lol

I find it extremely hilarious tho that after all it’s been proven that Rin is what best for Haru, which I think was obvious from the very beginning. And I haven’t seen any new makoharu related anything for ages, nor on youtube, nor on “free!” tag, so I sometimes even forget that it’s the most popular ship in Free. In 2014 maybe? I’m just happy here, cause Harurin are together, they’re happy, they got evething they wanted, and Rin is glued to us right now haha What else do I need. I’m gonna edit the kisses myself haha I’m working on stuff to get better at this lolz

#answered #anonymous #rinharu #harurin #Free!#haru deserves to be loved by the person he loves the end of the discussion lmao #free #rin matsuoka #nanase haruka #otp

48 notes · View notes

anglophile-rin · 4 years

Text

don’t trope me into this

tagged by @royedsasoei . Yay! Thanks! I love getting tagged in things and it never happens for any of those stupid Facebook ones, which makes you def top ten loves of my life ❤️❤️

However, the universe has once again asked the bisexual to choose things, and we all know how that goes...

Rules: Bold whichever trope you like the most (or hate the least if you’re not a huge fan of either) of the following pairs:

Slow burn or Love at first sight?

Ok, hear me out. So, like, Klaus lands his ass in Vietnam, tilts his head at the hot sleepy guy, and it's just "Oh no, he's pretty."

Dean stabs Castiel in the chest and again, "Oh no, he's pretty."

So, I guess what I mean is, I love a crush at first sight. But then slowly burn away at that love, my friends. Make me hurt with your need to JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY.

Fake dating or secret dating?

Gimme the danger! Gimme the sneaky, sexy stuff! But also, gimme the secret dating that's not really a secret so much as, they just never bothered to tell anyone and everyone's just really confused.

Enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers or enemies to friends to lovers?

Maybe it's because I'm married to my best friend, maybe it's because my gay little heart realized 15 years too late that it was both gay and also had been in love with my high school best friend, but it just pleases me, damnit.

Oh no there’s only one bed or long distance correspondence?

Longing and phone calls and emails and texts (all fun to write, too, which helps) and whining pitifully to your siblings and friends and driving them bonkers. Yup. Hits the spot.

hurt/comfort or amnesia?

Whump has been in my soul since I had my first crush at two years old. Do you know how much little me delighted in Luke Skywalker having his hand cut off?? It was indecent. Add comfort from a loved one? I'm set.

Fantasy au or modern au?

Both are great, but I have to really be in the mood for a fantasy AU. Modern is just so clean and easy.

mutual pining or domestic bliss?

Can I say both?? I want them to pine and then I want them to have babies, DAMNIT.

smut or fluff?

Damnit. Both! I want both! Give me fluffy smut! Give me smutty fluff! Tenderly fuck and then cuddle, god DAMNIT.

But, if it must be one without the other, I suppose I'd have to go fluff. Though I get WAY more embarrassed reading a good fluff in public... 😬

canon-compliant or fix-it?

Listen. There is this thing called bury your gays, and I am not about that life. So I almost have to read fix-it just as a matter of necessity. But it has to be as canon-compliant as possible while fixing it.

Reincarnation or character death?

So, when I was young I watched a Disney Channel movie called Susie Q (I think) and the girl totally dies in the past (I think??) but then the guy sees basically her exactly in the future and first my little self was all "Woo! Her heart will go on!" but soon after I was like "Wait, that's kind of shitty, isn't it? Poor girl just being used as a replacement for a self she doesn't even remember." So, give me death. Plus, damn that grieving...

But if you're gonna reincarnate, you gotta reincarnate both of them again and again spanning centuries.

one-shot or multi-chapter?

The longer the better. Give me it ALL.

kid fic or road trip?

I am SO SOFT for my favs being parents. SO SOFT. The kids have to be written well, which can be a chore, but kids. Do it.

sci-fi au or magic au?

Solely because I have read way more magic AU than sci-fi AU. Though I'm ready this SWU fix now....oh man....

Arranged marriage or accidental marriage?

Arranged marriage totally belongs in either enemies to lovers or arranged marriage to the wrong person. Some Romeo, Juliet and Paris shit up in here. Accidental marriage? That is pure of heart and dumb of ass and I am HERE for it, always.

Time travel or isolated together?

This being said time travel involving Mr. David Katz will win out every time.

But yeah. Get snowed in, get trapped in an elevator, get lost in the woods, I think we're alone now.

High school romance or middle-aged romance?

I love a good high school AU, I really do. So much angst, and soft, younger versions of my favs. But that being said, middle-aged. Yes. Grown ass men (let's be real, I almost always read the gay boys) feeling like teenagers? Complications of adult life? Gimme gimme gimme.

body swap or genderbend?

You did it. You offered the bisexual a choice and made her choose "neither." The only time I really can do genderbend is when it's temporary.

Angst or crack?

I can't do crack. I just can't. It's just...too silly. Too cringey.

Even if I could, though, I live for the angst. It feeds me.

Apocalyptic or mundane?

Listen, shit is stressful enough. Just be in love, would you?

But apocalyptic can totally be fun, too...

tagging @frecklesandsuspenders @swiftseptember and anyone else who may want to do this!

1 note · View note

aizenat · 5 years

Note

So in honor of the Fruits Basket reboot who would you say are your fave Furuba characters and ships (canon) and why? Least fave Furuba characters and canon ships and why?

Oh hi nonny! This is fun! I meant to reply earlier, but I know this is going to get in depth so I wanted to be on my computer when I replied. Also, this is going to have major Furuba spoilers (duh).

I’ll start with the least favorites to get the negatives out of the way. My least fave characters are hard because I tend to love more than hate characters in this series. However...

I didn’t really like Motoko or any of the Prince Yuki fanclub girls. I had a much better appreciation for her after that graduation scene; I’m glad she didn’t confess to Yuki and instead just thanked him for helping make her high school experience fun. When you think of that, how she had a group of friends who all shared this adoration for him, and how much fun she had, it is sweet.

BUT the fucking fangirls really helped create a culture in their school where people couldn’t get close to Yuki even if they wanted to! And seeing how much that hurt Yuki, despite their intentions, it irks me. It was only once there were people like Manabe and Kimi who didn’t give a fuck about the fangirls (Kimi’s handling of the fangirls was just so wonderfully delicious for this very reason) that Yuki was finally able to have a fun high school experience and let loose a bit. It’s not all Motoko’s and the fangirls’ fault; Yuki had his own demons to fight through. But you can’t deny that if everyone knows that there is a legit fanclub with strict rules on how anyone, especially girls, are allowed to communicate with him, they’re not going to think they can joke around and goof off with him.

Interestingly enough, I think her daughter makes up for her. Her daughter’s love of the Sohmas is so much funnier, non-obtrusive, and more respectful than Motoko’s was.

This might be unpopular or surprising, but I really dislike Shigure. Aside from him being a disgusting lech (that scene with him going the high school talking about seeing high school girls is sick. And as someone who is 27 going on 28 my own damn self, I would protect high school girls from perverts like him until my dying breath), I just find his motivations and mindset fucked up. Like, he was fucked when he decided Akito was the love of his life, but the things he does just to get a reaction from her is annoying as BALLS. Idk if we ever got a definite number for how old Akito is, but she’s still much younger than Shigure. And doing shit like SLEEPING WITH HER MOTHER out of spite when you know Akito is just one wind blow away from losing her fucking shit is just so gross. He’s too grown to be doing dumb shit like that, and I have zero respect for him.

Also, on a side note, I don’t really like Kureno either. Not like he did anything in particular (except get with Arisa, which I don’t like at all), but I find him boring as dirt. The only interesting thing about him is that he’s the first one who’s curse broke. Cool. So why are you here? He’s not much of a character; he’s just there to show that the curse IS breaking, and then to cause tension between Akito and Shigure. All while being dull and annoying. Boy, bye.

Least favorite “ships” is funny because I actually dislike more couples than I like. But among my least favorite are:

I think I lowkey read Arisa as a lesbian as a kid, and it was really annoying that Takaya-sensei decided to force her into a relationship. Especially because I just wasn’t sold on her and Kureno. Kureno is nothing like Tohru for her to be doing that “Oh, he’s like Tohru” thing. He did one thing she would do, boo hoo. I can’t imagine Tohru also doing what he did with Akito (ie, not leaving/not establishing boundaries), so there’s that. Also, the, like, 9 year or whatever age difference is a hard no. Arisa had so much potential and personality and whatnot than to become that fuckboy’s housewife. ALSO, that line when she says she wants to hit like 6 feet or something, and Kyo asks if she wants to be a model or something, I couldn’t help but think “oooh, she should be a model!” Imagine Arisa as a model! That’s what she should have been; not Kureno’s girlfriend. UGH!

No matter how many times I read it, I can’t get over Katsuya and Kyoko’s age difference. I mean, at least Arisa is in high school and been through some shit to mature her where you can KINDA be okay with her and Kureno (except me, who hates it 100%). But Kyoko was IN MIDDLE SCHOOL. Like, how you a grown man falling for a MIDDLE SCHOOL STUDENT. The fuck? The hell? Jesus did not die on the cross for this. Even taking into consideration culture and the time period, it’s 10000000000% NOT okay. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. Even when I was the same age as Kyoko myself reading this (like 15ish), I had a HUGE issue when I learned about that age gap. It’s gross. It’s predatory. And when he’s even called out on it by Kyoko, he laughs it off.

His personality was cute, but I don’t know why they couldn’t wait. Like, even if they did something where they met when she was in middle school, and then maybe ten years later, while Kyoko was reforming her delinquent ways, she finds Katsuya again and reconnects with him, fine. But really?

I respect it only because they made Tohru and she’s a gem, and he died long before the story began, so it is what it is. But ew, hell no.

The last couple I don’t really like, and this is really unpopular, is Haru and Rin. I know most people who read this love them, but I always found their relationship to be too codependent and unhealthy. Rin isn’t my favorite character, but considering her history, I can’t be too mad at her. Not to mention she reacts the way you would expect a high school girl going through what she did to behave. I was friends with angry girls like her in high school; I get it. I also saw those same girls get into unhealthy codependent relationships with guys and are still struggling today. I like Haru a lot, and I’m sure he and Rin could be sweet. I love how protective he is of her. But Haru just wasn’t right for Rin when they were going through the breakup and then getting back together thing. The things they said to each other were just off putting to me. Once things calmed down, they were fine, but I found it hard to root for them because of what a weird introduction we got to them as a couple.

Now on to the positives. My favorite characters. This is going to be conventional, buuuuuut...

Tohru, obviously. Only losers who fell off Fruits Basket don’t love Tohru. She’s very awe inspiring honestly with her attitude. You read her reactions and think how you want to be that sort of person. You want the be the person someone looks at and thinks of as home. You want to be the sort of person who is encouraging and positive and happy. You want to be someone full of light.

I do have critiques of her being a “perfect mother” character, and how she finds herself mothering a bunch of guys (like, literally taking care of three males cooking and cleaning for them. Gross). There is something to be said about whether Tohru would work as a character if she had real goals other than “get a job and support myself.” If she had goals like wanting to go away to college and get a career. Like, imagine Tohru as a therapist. She’d be able to help so many people. But no, her humble Japanese heart wouldn’t allow her to go for some sort of passion that grandiose. Like, we live in a modern day where it’s GOOD for girls to have passions, so it’s kinda off putting that her only passion is homemaking and nurturing those around her.

BUT, she’s still so sweet and kind and makes you want to be a better person! lol.

What’s funny about Flying Pot-kun is that when he was introduced, I remember thinking “he reminds me of someone.” And I was racking my brain of people I knew irl, wondering who he reminded me of. Then Yuki starts going “he reminds me of someone,” and I was like “What? Yuki too?” And when Yuki thought of his brother, I started DYING laughing! It’s ironic that Yuki’s best friend ends up being a younger version of his brother who irritates him.

Manabe is really fun, but I really love his relationship with Yuki. I like when they fight, when they talk. But what really impressed me is the scene with Komaki, where she tells him off about what he said to Tohru at her mother’s wake. And how instead of getting defensive (”what? I was only looking out for you!”), he realized that he fucked up. I wish he would have apologized to Tohru earlier, even if she didn’t remember him until a while later, but he’s a guy so I don’t expect much from them (whoops, my misandry was showing).

Still, Manabe reminds me of my guy friends from hs, and how fun and stupid and silly they were. I could see him hanging out with them, getting in trouble with them, so I like him lol.

My #1 favorite character has to be Yuki. What’s hilarious is that when I first read Fruits Basket through (so, as a teen, reading all the volumes as they came out during the Tokyopop run), I HATED Yuki. I thought he was a dick to Kyo unnecessarily. There’s that one moment right after the “True Form Reveal” I believe where Kyo is visibly trying to not snap at Yuki the way he normally does. But then Yuki provokes him and causes Kyo to yell at him. As the oppressed older sister of a favored younger brother, I know first hand how it feels to be provoked to anger by someone who knows how to push your buttons. And so I likened Yuki to my brother and hated him for that. It felt like to me that every time Kyo wanted to move on, Yuki was there to put him down.

Then I reread Fruits Basket when I was 19 and realized “Holy shit, Yuki is a male version of me.” Not 100% obviously, but his self loathing and the way he isolated himself even after no longer being under the direct control of his family was something I could relate to. I realized that I disliked Yuki because I saw in him all the flaws I disliked in myself: hating him was easy because I was hating these parts of myself.

When I understood that, I related to his story more, and he’s always my favorite character now. I especially love once he becomes student body president. All of the scenes with him and the rest of his student council members are gold. Kimi and her stupid flirting, Manabe going off track, Chibi-suke’s play at maturity while everyone else goofs off, and Machi’s quiet and awkward energy leads to some amazing moments. Seeing Yuki interact with them in a way he never lets himself behave with his family is great; and we get to see a side of him you know his classmates rarely see too. You watch his confidence grow and it just makes my heart glow. I’m smiling while I’m typing this lol.

Favorite couples? Tbqh, there’s only two I really love and respect, and they’re the obvious two. All others can fall apart tomorrow and I’d feel NOTHING. But these two were endgame and perfect.

Tohru and Kyo. God, the first time I read this series, when I realized that it was setting those two up, I wanted to DIE from happiness. Kyo was my BOY first time around, and he could do no wrong. So to know he “won” over Yuki and got the girl made me so happy. Rereading it, I always find Tohru and Kyo so adorably compatible. Tohru is very good at reading his love language, and seeing his deeper meaning. I remember someone mentioned that Yuki, in the beginning, still kept a lid on his feelings, making it hard for Tohru to 100% connect to him. And that Kyo was always so explosive with his feelings; even if it’s awkward and not 100% how he feels, Kyo still expresses how he feels as he’s feeling them.

I think that’s why when she confesses to him, she takes his rejection as REAL rejection. Because Kyo is always the honest one, the one she rarely has to question how he feels. Kyo is always honest. I thought that was a good assessment, and a good reason why they work.

Not only is Tohru’s love for Kyo healing for him, but her love for Kyo is healing for Tohru. Being able to move forward and create a future with him allows her to move on from her past. Through loving Kyo, and working on breaking the curse so she can free him and be with him, can she move past her mother’s death. Imagine if she just graduated, got a job, and lived on her own after high school. She’d be alone. And left with remembering her mother all the time. It would have broken her. Loving Kyo meant she had to be willing to let her mother go a bit. Move on and live despite her mother not being around. And after Kyo stopped being a dumbass, that’s what his love was for her. It freed her. Not as a distraction, but as a way for her to heal from it.

They were really made for each other.

Despite my love for Tohru and Kyo, Yuki and Machi are just my absolutely FAVORITE. Their dynamic together is so interesting. Yuki is so used to people putting him on a pedestal that he’s intrigued by someone who’s like “he’s not a prince; he’s just an average guy.” And when he starts giving her attention, Machi, who is used to being ignored and overlooked, is flabbergasted. Not only that, but he UNDERSTANDS her without her having to say anything. And what’s funny is that that is how Yuki is. He doesn’t express his feelings the way Kyo does; he holds a lot in. His feelings might manifest in small ways, but it’s hard for others to read it.

Because it’s how he is, Yuki is able to read deeper into Machi’s actions. He hears a story from Manabe about her walking in the snow, just making footprints, and then sees that she destroys clean and organized rooms and spaces. He puts two and two together: she hates when things are “perfect” and orderly. So she has to “ruin” them. And just like that, he gets it. Like, imagine what they’re house has to be like with Yuki being bad at cleaning and Machi just HATING a messy home! And considering how their son almost brags about his messy habits in Fruits Basket: Another, jfc, it’s gotta be bad!

I think that’s why Yuki and Machi are so cute to me: they also compliment each other. They can observe each other and see deeper than what others see. Machi didn’t just see his perfect persona at school: she saw beneath that. She remarks that he seems lonely, and he is. He sees her actions and realizes the truth. They think of each other and then do things based on that. Yuki sees her clutching a Mogeta when she meets his brother and realizes she must like him. Then sees another Mogeta while out and buys it for her just like that. Machi asks Yuki what he wants and when he says fertilizer like a dumbass not realizing her intent, she goes out to get it for him (carrying fertilizer by herself couldn’t have been easy).

They see each other. And that’s what’s so beautiful. In a world where they both, for one reason or another, are so easily forgotten and overlooked, they see each other. They found each other. They get each other. FUCKING CHRIST IT’S TOO BEAUTIFUL TO THINK ABOUT.

Also, some honorable mentions of couples I actually liked: Komaki and Manabe (I hope she beats his ass every time he calls her his meat angel lol), Ayame and Mine (I wish we saw more from them; then maybe I’d like them enough to wax poetry over them), and Hatori and the Great Mayu-chan-sensei (god, those two!!!!! Wonderful!!!!!).

Thanks, nonny, this was fun!

#god so many spoilers lol #fruits basket #furuba #furuba spoilers #fruits basket spoilers #too many characters to tag #so here we go #Anonymous

27 notes · View notes

allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 5 years

Text

Toy Story 4

I have given almost no thought to the fourth entry in the Toy Story franchise. I just felt like we were really DONE after Toy Story 3, you know? It was cathartic, it was meaningful, it made me bawl like a baby. I’d said goodbye and I was doing great. And then suddenly, Woody (Tom Hanks) and Buzz (Tim Allen) and the gang are back for round 4 and I’m just supposed to what, welcome them back with open arms? And now there’s a SPORK involved? I don’t know, fam. I was skeptical. But Pixar usually knows what they’re doing, so I sat down opening weekend ready to be transported back to the magic of childhood all over again. Could this entry in the franchise possibly live up to the greatness of all 3 of its predecessors? Well...

Gosh, it’s nice sometimes to be proven wrong. This movie is so delightful my face hurt from smiling afterwards. I think I laughed more at this than any other comedy this year. And its heart is still firmly in the right place, helping kids and grown-ups alike think about what it means to love and be loved, and what we’re willing to give up for a chance at happiness. Essentially, Woody’s new kid, Bonnie (Madeline McGraw) isn’t that interested in playing with him anymore. Instead, she’s made herself a new favorite toy - Forky (Tony Hale), a literal collection of trash barely being held together by silly putty and glue. Even though Woody isn’t Bonnie’s favorite toy, he knows how important it is for her to have Forky, and he will stop at nothing to keep Forky safe when Bonnie’s parents decide to take her (and all her toys) on a road trip. As you can imagine, some toys get lost, some toys get found, and there’s a lot of action-packed close calls along the way.

Some thoughts:

There is no Pixar short before this one, just FYI.

One thing I love about the Toy Story films is the thematic richness that is always so clear and well-executed. From the very first scene, it’s set up that this is going to be Woody’s movie, and it’s going to be about him choosing between two different types of love - the love of a companion or the love of duty in his role as a Kid’s Toy. All of the Toy Story movies are essentially Woody movies, but this one feels even more so than the rest, and it’s a lovely meditation on aging, change, and parenthood from the perspective of a character that many of us have grown up with for the last 24 years.

Some of the animation is so beautiful I want to cry. Woody lying in the rain. The LIGHT in the antique shop. Have you ever seen light look so ethereal and gorgeous in animation?

The four abandoned toys in Bonnie’s closet are voiced by the four greatest living comedians of our grandparents’ generation - Melephant Brooks (Mel Brooks), Chairol Burnett (Carol Burnett), Carl Reinerocerous (Carl Reiner), and Bitey White (Betty White). It’s a quick scene but man, what a joy for a comedy nerd like me.

Blink-and-you’ll-miss-them lesbians dropping off their son at Bonnie’s kindergarten class!

Throughout all the marketing, I have been so confused about Forky and why on earth he’s involved in this movie. However, within 2 minutes, I was completely sold. Tony Hale’s performance is perhaps the funniest performance I’ve seen in any media this year. Every single line delivery is gold, and he brings a real sweet earnestness to Forky’s identity crises and his confusion at a big world he doesn’t understand. And those goddamn googly eyes are the funniest fucking thing - it’s so dumb, but when a gag works, it works.

So I saw Child’s Play this weekend as well, and let me tell you - Benson, the ventriloquist dummy in the antique shop, is 10 million times scarier than Chucky will ever be. That motherfucker is going to haunt my dreams.

Now let’s talk about some other members of the ensemble. Is it just me, or does it seem like Buzz is being extra stupid here? I just don’t remember him being this stupid. A little obtuse, sure, but...this feels 10th season of a CBS sitcom bad. The one plot line I really hated was his dumb “inner voice” running gag. It felt like a lame gimmick in comparison to the really interesting nuanced interactions going on in every other plot thread of the film.

I love the idea of Bo Peep (Annie Potts) as a Mad Max road warrior feminist rebel.

Another thing I appreciate about the Toy Story movies - all of their villains are portrayed sympathetically, and usually due to a lack of love in their lives. Don’t get me wrong, I love a great campy evil just for the sake of being evil villain as much as the next girl, but there’s something to be said for a series of movies that show antagonists as people who are hurting, who have a need that was never filled, and are willing to learn and grow when they are confronted about it. I think that’s a valuable thing for kids and adults alike to see.

I particularly liked the parallel and inversion of Gabby (Christina Hendricks) and Woody here, how they’re both so blindly devoted to the idea of loving a kid that they can’t see anything outside of that, including how their actions might be hurting other people. It’s a tight script overall, and particularly in their stories it digs deep into a lot of interesting emotional material.

Fun easter egg: in the old toy disco that Bo Peep takes Woody to inside the antique shop, the first toy they interact with is the original tin toy from one of the first Pixar shorts!

I know he’s having a very it moment right now, which he deserves every single second of because he’s, by all accounts, a truly wonderful human being, but I would die for Keanu Reeves’ Duke Caboom, and I don’t care who knows it.

For people who are interested to know - there is a cat who experiences some toy-chasing antics, but no harm comes to her.

Did I Cry? Yeah, yeah I did. Nowhere near the waterworks of Toy Story 3, but when Gabby finds her kid, and at that last line, yeah, there was more than a light misting.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but this really is as good as all the other Toy Story movies. You’d be hard-pressed to name a franchise this consistent in quality, and I highly, highly encourage kids and grown-ups alike to travel to infinity and beyond with this crew one more time.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#119in2019 #toy story 4 #toy story 4 review #buzz lightyear #woody #tom hanks #tim allen #tony hale #bo peep #annie potts #forky #keanu reeves #duke caboom #christina hendricks #disney pixar #pixar #movie reviews #film reviews

10 notes · View notes

aggresivelyfriendly · 5 years

Text

With a Bang

Part two of Mistletoe

Most of the world had a crush on Harry Styles. Probably all of England. Keira just liked to think that she got a head start on everybody else.

She supposed she had an advantage being from the same village and all. She almost was ashamed at just how long it had taken her to really see him. When she looked back through year books and the like, well he was the most adorable little boy, and she did remember him being fun to listen to in his Elvis get up. Keira was fairly sure her first crush had been somebody silly like Gordo from Lizzie Macguire. And then there had been Tom.

She and Tom were something of an ineveitability. Their mothers had been best friends for life and they had grown up together. There was ample opportunity for kisses stolen and ice creams shared. So they had happened, and everybody had oowed and awwed. But it had happened for too long.

Keira wasn't sure how to break up with him when they all lived in the same small place, and he was eager to break up when they left. She mourned that, how ill used she was, that at home, she was a feather in his dumb newsboy cap, but away, she was a hinderance. Usually, growing up she was happy to be part of Keira and Tom. Not all the time, like when he scoffed at her love of books, or ignored her for days in favor of video games, or when he made eyes at his mates about her.

She wasn't ashamed they were having sex, she liked it fine, but she didn't like him bragging about it. Especially to Harry. He looked uncomfortable when Tom raised his stupid eyebrows when she had to bend down or something equally innocuous but somehow sensuous to 16 year old boys. Keira assumed is was because he was so sweet, Harry. He was the nicest boy in class, nicest smile. Even before the world agreed, she was sometimes sad that Harry wasn't raising his eyebrows at her, she couldn't imagine him being gross about her like Tom.

Perhaps she was never sadder to be part of Keira and Tom than when she and Harry were assigned to the 12 or so small boys and girls for football camps.

"You can't let him push you around." Was the first sentence she could make out when she came upon Harry talking to little Stevie. Keira knew she was talking about Liam. Liam was the biggest boy on the team, the most athletic. He got a lot of attention, and he liked it. Knew he was the best. Didn't want anybody to forget it. And he enjoyed Stevie's attention, didn't care if it was positive or negative.

The little girl sniffled loud, "my mum says it's cuz he likes me...." she trailed off.

Keira was livid. She hated that, and what message it taught. Her mum had griped at her dad about it when she was a little girl when somebody was mean to her. Come to think of it, it may have been Tom.

"What?" Harry was audibly irked. His voice a question mark, in red. "If he liked you, shouldn't he be nice to you and not kick your shins instead of the ball, or hit your chest when he's trying to 'knock' the ball down'?" She saw his fingers make the quotes, but his voice said enough. Harry's voice was really nice she noticed that day. He was really nice.

"That's what I think!" Stevie made big hands and Harry was nodding. "And why should I like him if he's mean to me anyway?"

"Stevie, I think you should ask yourself that question your whole life, ok?" Harry extended his hand and Stevie took it. "Deal?"

"Deal!" The little girl was sans snot now and Keira could see dimples in both of their cheeks.

"Now, lets go kick him in the shins, I mean win the ball from him!" He narrowed his eyes and they sparkled.

Stevie looked a little smitten, so was Keira.

But she was Tom's girlfriend. Yet, she always wore the Alien Harry complimented the one time, even though Tom liked the one he bought her.

She liked when he smelled her and his cheeks flushed a little. It made her feel taller, even taller than him. Her cheeks always felt full too. He made her laugh, she liked his laugh.

Sometimes he seemed to like hers too. But everybody liked Harry, the whole of the school, and the girls' he'd kissed, had, they talked about how sweet he was and how his breath was minty, and how his lips and tongue moved. But there were quite a few of them and though he was sweet, he wasn't faithful, well, not a one woman kinda boy.

And then he wasn't sweet Harry Styles from her home town, with the floppy hair and cute cheeks and killer smile. He was Harry fucking Styles from One Direction, with the killer curls, and big voice, and sexy swagger.

The jeans killed her. Genes too.

Tom has caught her one time, drooling over how Harry was growing up. Watching the Story of my Life video and rewinding his parts over and over. Thinking about his hands around a football teaching a throw in.

Thinking about his hands and how lanky he'd gotten. How Cut.

"What're you doing?" Tom sounded, well, pissed. But he sounded that way whenever they saw each other now. She interfered with his video game and drinking schedule when he was home. She wasn't sure why either of them were bothering. But he'd shown up on her doorstep the first day back, and begged, and well, they were Keira and Tom.

She quickly slammed her lap top closed. "Nothing, it's just wild! That's our Harry!" But so much more. Who could have guessed?

How could they miss it?

He was the one everybody watched she remembered, no matter the room, or the age. Little Stevie included. Keira too.

Tom didn't like that.

"It's just Harry, not sure what the fuss is about. Not even sure he can sing! He fucks up sometimes."

Well, that wasn't on. "Um, I think he can definitely sing, clearly." Keira gestured at the TV. Oh, he looked pissed.

"Well, then, you can go to this shifty party by yourself then, see if he'll sing to you!"

"Harry's home!?" Oh, wrong thing to say.

"Yeah, supposed to celebrate his stupid fucking birthday, not for months for fuck's sake!"

"We don't have to go." Keira wanted to go.

"You don't have to go, I do. He'll be upset if I don't make it. He's like a girl sometimes." She hated when he said shit like that. Then he changed tactics, and wrapped her up in his skinny arms. She liked he was taller than her, looked like a willow sapling. She only wished he had a little more muscle recently. Like when she started watching one direction videos. "And I'd rather stay here with you, all night," he nuzzled the spot behind her ear they favored, and she wanted to stay with him too, kind of. "But, let's go to the party. We can bask in that big head of hair of his, watch him flex his damn dimples like he's god's gi-"

"I thought you liked Harry! He's your mate!" She protested.

"Listened, he's a mate, and I'll always have his back publicly, but between you and me, he's changed. I love that you haven't changed." He'd kissed her lips, just like she liked, and craved. "You taste just the same. Like my girl."

Keira knew she had melted and though some part of her felt like Tom was lying about Harry, she was with Tom, hadn't seen Harry in four years, pre stardom.

She's noticed that night, while Tom lavished attention on her like never before, that Harry seemed much the same. At least from her wide orbit around him.

Predictably, after the party, there was sex, the same semi satisfying dance she and Tom had done before, for years. He always got off, sometimes she got lucky. Then, the journey back to uni, and the break up.

She still watched One Direction videos when they were on.

It had been a shock, a pleasant jolt, to run into Harry, a very grown up, and familiar Harry at the bakery. Thinking back on it, maybe Tom was smarter than she gave him credit for and noticed. Noticed she was interested in Harry, a little smitten. He'd worked pretty hard to bad mouth him. And he'd payed her attention and stayed close too.

The shocking thing, after the bakery, and the mistletoe, was that He hadn't changed. He was still the boy she had taught footie with. Hung on the chair of the coach near. But he was better, a man.

A really lovely, accomplished, well heeled, world renowned man that she was totally smitten with.

And if his kiss was anything to go by, it was mutual. Her lips tingled when she thought about it, the way his face had gone from shock, the little 'o', to a quirk in the cute slices in his cheeks to a bit of a smirk. And then her eyes had fallen closed and she'd let other senses take over.

Touch and taste.

Keira'd been thinking about his lips since she got bold enough to walk up to him while holding the mistletoe above his head.

Well she had been thinking about his lips since she bought the mistletoe. Maybe since she was 19 or so, ok, 17. She'd been shopping with her mom and seen the little sprigs of green by the register and decided that if Harry wanted mistletoe, if they needed an excuse to do this, she'd make sure they had one.

She'd thrown it on the belt and her mom had given her a queer look to which she had shrugged. Why explain herself.

Keira had been prompted to explain herself on the way home from the party. She wasn't sure if everybody saw them kissing. But her mother certainly had.

It was probably because it had gone on for so long, the kiss. Really more of a makeout.

But when she'd gotten to feel those lips on her own, well, her hands were up the back of his jacket and might have pulled his shirt free from his white pants if they'd had two more minutes. But somebody had cleared their throats.

She'd felt devastated. Partially that they hadn't done that ages ago. That she thought Tom could kiss.

Harry had looked wrecked as well. Her hands hadn't made it to his hair, a pity, but he was yanking it back and runnng his hands down his face moments later. God, he was so hot.

She'd been squirmy for the entire rest of the evening. It had been short, but when he'd hugged her goodbye and put his face in her neck to sniff her and pushed those pink edged pillows to her neck then her cheek so close to her mouth she could taste his gum, she knew she was a goner.

Basically, the minute they got in the car her mom said, "that why you bought the mistletoe then?" With a ridiculous grin.

She couldn't talk about it, so she shrugged.

It was all she had thought about the short drive home, while she changed and brushed her teeth, when she mourned the stronger mint that wasn't his taste in her mouth, and while she ran her thighs against themselves.

"It's your own bed, it's where you first masterbated. Get over yourself and do it." Keira said aloud after an hour of flopping on her twin bed. So, her hand slipped beneath her flannel bottoms and she could pretend she was surprised by the slip and slide she found in her knickers, but she wasn't. Her clit was sensitive, from the first brush of her middle finger. It took only the one finger, not to many twirls over her hood, and the thought of Harry doing this in his adolescent bed with her on his mind to finish the job.

But she still woke up thinking about the kiss.

She thought about it all through the week she was back in London, gave her Christmas present to herself, the fancy vibrator she figured a single girl Deserved, a workout most nights over it.

She nearly texted him daily.

Was he in London?

Did he catch himself daydreaming about how the ridge of his tongue felt in her mouth? When it slid against her own, and caught the corner of her lips on the way out. Hers still tingled. Did his?

Could she send that text?

Would she?

No, was the answer.

But on the eve of New Year's Eve, her phone chimed and she was expecting it was Molly, with another guilt trip about Keira not wanting to third wheel with her and Mace.

Instead it was Harry.

Her heart thrummed. Her lips parted on a gasp. It was a short text though, 'you home or in London?'

'Well, this feels like a trick question. I live in London, so, yes.' Be coy, make him text you again. Please text again.

'I hope that means you are in London. I am.'

Well what did she say to that?

'I'm home, in London.' Safe, ball back in his court.

'London's not home. But since we are both here, do you have plans tomorrow night?'

Now her heart was really beating. She should have plans, right? That would be cooler. She could have plans, but she hated new year's with all it's expectation. It was hard to have a good time when you were supposed to have the best time.

"Not really.' Aloof. So not her, she sucked at this text flirting, maybe why she hadn't really dated since Tom. Just the one boyforned of a sort her final term of university.

'Now you do! I'm having people round'

The next text was an address, in a neighborhood far enough away to be expensive. Shit! Fancy, what did she wear? What did she have?

'Dress code?' That was chill enough.

'You could come naked.....😈😈😈' he was better at this than her. Would he be naked?

'Will you be naked?'

'Unfortunately, no. Think my guests would be confused.'

Ok, so not the two of them. Naked. Her mind was whirring. What did she say?

'It's casual, just a bit of food, and games, lots of drinks with some friends. I'd like to see you. Wear whatever.'

That was such a boy thing to say. Wear whatever. Come to my posh house in the posh part of London, but wear jeans, but only if they look destructed perfectly.

It took her a day to decide what to wear. Mostly because she had to leave to only be the 18 minutes late she was allowing. That was relaxed, right? Just a bit late, so she wasn't rude, but also not too eager?

It was just a little cotton dress. With some shimmery overlay to be festive. T shirt cut, so it was casual, but short. She had always liked her legs.

Keira was a little jittery on the tube, almost took a nip off the bottle some passengers were passing around. Who even was she? It was just Harry, for fuck's sake, they had grown up together.

The house was pretty unassuming, but the address and the fancy cars in the drive told her she was a long way from home.

Her homegrown boy was internationally known, and lusted for. Keira was more than aware of it, almost left, but she'd rung the bell. Because she lusted for him.

"Keira!" He looked happy to see her, and a little red checked. His long long arms wrapped around her waist and this time she sniffed him, inhaled deep. He smelled like nice cologne, and his mint gum, and alcohol. He had started early.

"Am I late?" She bit her lip and pulled back to look at him, elsewise she was worried she was going to burrow in his smell and stay there. Or he'd catch her sniffing and she'd be totally embarrassed.

It may have been ok though, because he kept both hands around her waist and gripped her so she wouldn't get too far and smiled at her before he leaned in and kissed her, well, pecked her. She supposed on the cheek, but it was close enough to her mouth to resuscitate the tingling.

"Nah, you're not late. Nick just came over early with a bottle because had another party to get to. Come meet everybody!"

Keira assumed he would see her safely ensconced with the first group of people, Sarah, his drummer she recognized, and mingle.

Instead, his arm stayed firmly around her waist, and his larger than life, and all to real, presence at her side. Through the first, "this is Keira, an old friend," his eye twinkled there, "from home who lives nearby now! We just found out we are neighbors!" He popped a kiss to her temple on that one after an hour of chat and two more drinks for him, and three glasses of veuve cliqueot for her.

Neighbors was a stretch, but she was enjoying being the center of his attention too much, rather than another person to talk too, to correct him. She didn't shrug out from under his arm until she had to use the restroom. That was several glasses later. She was pretty sure she had had a whole bottle to herself and it was only 10:30.

She'd had enough she was hoping for a new year's kiss. He'd been really really touchy, and she was loving it. But, it could be construed as friendly, and he did seem to be affectionate in general. It was funny, she had been so forward on Christmas, but now, among strangers, in his other life, she was feeling inhibited.

"Just kiss him, if you want. If he rejects you, fine. Friends." She extended her hand and pretended to shake the air. Wow, she was drunk.

Keira was chuckling when she opened the door to the bathroom off the more populated parts of the house. She was nearly to the corner into the living room when Harry appeared.

"Ahh! Harry, you gave me a fright!" Her hand was on her heart.

He was laughing and flushed and happy. She was really smitten, so smitten, she was rethinking her bargain with herself. She really didn't want to get rejected.

"Sorry," he continued laughing, "I really didn't mean to scare you, I just wasn't sure where you were." He took her hand off her chest, and pulled her forward and kissed her hair. This was over the top? No matter how affectionate, right?

He kept her close, and she looked up at his face when he loosened his hold. "Hi!" She glowed at him.

"Hiii!" He scrunched his face at her.

"You're adorable!" Jesus, did she just sigh at him.

"I'm not adorable." He shook his head. "I'm sexy." He put his nose to hers.

"Nope, definitely adorable." Keira was cross eyed looking at him this close.

"Heyyyy!" He ran his hands a little higher on her rib cage, his thumbs on the underwire of her bra. "I can also be sexy!"

She knew that. She'd thought about it a lot, actually. But his swings from cute to smug were all over the place. He was a cute drunk tonight.

"Prove it!" She taunted and bit her lip the way he seemed to like. They both had wide mouths. It made the kissing a treat. Lots of room to play.

His brow quirked. "All right, I can prove it. And if I do......" he leaned down and she could feel his breath on her neck. "You have to come upstairs with me at midnight." She felt and heard that request, bet, whatever.

Jesus, so back to sexy. "For a new year's kiss?" She asked breathlessly while his nose boasted over her cheekbone.

He just gave her a smug look and she was ready to go upstairs now. "Something like that."

"If I admit you're sexy, can we go upstairs now?" He was so close, she could almost get to his lips, he glanced back just an inch.

"Nope! I have guests." He shook his head, and her face must have looked like she was eating bitter lemon. He leaned into her ear again, "and I want you to think on what we might do up there, where I might kiss you, until then. While I make sure everybody is really drunk, so they won't notice your moans over the music."

Her what? He kissed her pulse point, she could feel how hard her heart was beating. Now he could too. "My moans?" Did she moan?

"If that kiss I've been obsessing over is an indication," He looked her in the eye then. "You're loud, Keira. I like it. Wanna hear."

She was gonna kiss him. If her knees didn't go fully gelatin right now.

"Harry!" Mitch jogged up then. "Emi is sick. Think she was a little to excited for adult time with Adam. Can you help him get her out."

"Sure." He called back, but maintained eye contact with her. She thought she saw Mitch smile and shake his head, but she was still locked with Harry. "Will you be ok til I get back?"

"Yeah, I'm actually usually really good with new people." She shrugged. That was true, but she'd been nervous to come over tonight.

"I actually remember that about you, but just don't want you to feel abandoned. I'll find you soon, Yeah?"

"Yeah." God, her voice was silly right now. And then, Harry lightly pressed a kiss to her open lips and she lost all the breath that had been filling her voice.

Keira watched him walk away and slumped against the wall a moment. "Fuck's sake!"

It took her a minute to get her wits about her. Her first thought was another glass, but she decided she wad cloudy enough. And she definitely wanted to remember whatever happened when Cinderella time struck.

Keira finally made it out of the hallway and literally smashed into a tall dark haired man. "Sorry! Jesus, I'm more sloshed than I thought."

He laughed and his teeth were full in his mouth. "No, was all me, let me get you a drink to make up for it."

Which was how she wound up with a new flute of champagne and her back to a corner. She was nursing the golden liquid. She'd decided this was the last and time was running out. The last grains of 2018 slipping through the hour glass.

The last hour had seemed long. She'd lost track of Harry for the first time since she arrived.

It would have been fine, the people she was talking to were lively, lovely, he had good friends. But she was twitchy and all she could think of was his lips and midnight.

Slowly, the group broke up, in search of more drinks, or a new playlist or summat. And she was standing near the corner trying to summon up the courage to go look for Sarah. She'd enjoyed her the most. She was quirky and a little awkward and funny, when she saw Harry making his way over to her.

The hair on her arms stood up when she realized it had been about an hour since he'd left and that he was making a b line for her. If she wasn't so turned on, she might be embarrassed that all her bluster about doing well in new situations looked like a bluff.

"Hey! Sorry, took a bit. Emi threw up on me, I had to change. And shower." He dimpled.

"Well, my nostrils thank you!" What was that? He made her a little stupid.

"Yeah!" It was a squack of a laugh. "Do you need a new drink." He gestured in the scant space between him to where she was holding the nearly empty flute.

"No, um, I think I'm good for the night." She smiled.

His brow creased, he took the glass and smelled it. "Do you feel alright? Or do you not like the taste, they said it was the good stuff."

"No, I like the taste, I'm just trying to keep my head on."

"Why?"

"Why what?" She was busy staring at his eyes. They were a bit glassy. she hoped he would remember midnight, or his plans for it.

"Why do you want to stay in control? I'd rather you lose it." He lifted the glass and she looked at it. He tipped it to her lips and she drank the last sip. "Now, can I have a taste?"

She'd barely nodded when his mouth was on her. His tongue slicked over the small gap his bottom lip had just vacated and Keira gasped. It slipped into her wanting mouth and her neck went soft. He caught it. The kiss got less controlled when her hands slipped up his shirt like she'd wanted them to on Christmas Eve. His hands were gripping her ass a second after she heard the glass get sat down. He squeezed and pulled her into him and he felt, full. After long minutes and a few of the loud moans he had mentioned, these ones she noticed, she pulled back to suck in air.

They were both breathing heavy, the same air, she taking his exhale, him her inhale. His hand migrated to grab the glass, while its twin ran round her outer thigh.

"Can I have a taste?"

"Of what?"

"Your lips?"

She may have been a little drunk, but she was fairly sure he'd had more than one.

"But you have?" He smirked at her and it brought her awareness to the warming center of her. Harry's fingers were below her short dress now, very high, on the inside of her thigh.

"Not those ones." He raised his eyebrows at her. "These ones." His fingers brushed over her panties and she yelped. Keira bit her lip to keep it down, and looked over his shoulder. The party was winding down, most people were looking jolly, but they were not alone.

"Harry!" She whispered loudly, and cocked her head over her shoulder. "Somebody might see!"

"No," he shook his head and ran his fingers over where she was swelling. "No one will see, not if we stay like this. The problem is." He hooked her panties to the side and she gasped. It was louder than her words had been. "Someone might hear." The callouses on his fingertips, from guitar sounded in her head, caught on her clit a little when he glanced it over and over. Keira bit off her moan. "If you can't be quiet, or if I have to kiss you, to shut you up, that would be conspicuous too. We get a little carried away kissing." His smile was wide as the sky. He caressed the sensitive nerve endings at her opening. "So I'm gonna smile, and you can bite your lip," he nodded his chin at her. "Like that. Like we are flirting, and I'm not getting you off so that you are very wet by the time we go upstairs, and we can fuck."

A moan slipped out then. "Oh God!" She covered her mouth.

"Pretend to laugh." He leaned in and she turned her gasp into a giggle. His nose on her neck, his smell in her head, his fingers working her.

Her thighs were trembling. "Harry!" She whispered, "my knees, I'm not sure," oh that was a spot. "I can stay standing." Her breath was rapid and her heart was speeding. She squeezed her thighs around his hand. It increased the friction. "Harry!" Her lip, She bit it fiercely, tasted rust. "I'm going to scream."

His hand cupped her chin and he put a tongue to the side of his mouth, "ok."

Keira contracted around his fingers, pulsed into his hand, and yelled into his kiss.

Her head was on his shoulder and he was making shushing sounds and smoothing her dress down.

"You look beautiful flushed." Was all he said about it. "We have half an hour." He kissed her cheek and winked at her before sucking his fingers into his mouth.

Keira held onto the table near her. "Holy fuck!" And she found a place to sit down while she could still use her legs. All of her was liquid.

She watched the whole room, while Harry went about hosting like he hadn't just had his hand knuckle deep in her pussy.

Once he was sure everybody still able to stand and toast had a glass, he turned on the telly and opened the balcony. He made his way over to her then, after the lifelong 30 minutes.

"Cmon." He looked gleeful, like they had a secret. Keira supposed they did. He kept his glass and gave her another, brimming with champagne, "drink it before it spills!" And he caught her empty hand while she giggled over her sip. She almost choked.

They fled up the stairs.

At the top, she stopped on the landing and saw the first firework go off! "Oh! That's why you opened the patio!"

"Yeah, but their view isn't this good!" And he stood behind her and walked her to the glass. Harry cleared the hair from her neck and kissed her, on the cord of muscle from her skull to her shoulders. Her belly pressed to the glass, and she could feel the cool of the night through her dress. Her nipples didn't cut through. Keira was surprised.

"You can be loud now," his hands pulled her dress up her body and over her shoulders and head. "Ah! I thought you'd not worn a bra!" Harry pulled her back enough to pluck at her nipples. When her jaw dropped at the sensation, he filled her mouth with his tongue.

It didn't take much more than a couple of tugs to Relieve her of her panties. He had her writhing moments later, one hand across her body on a breast, the other cupping her weeping place, and his hard cock rubbing through his loose pants against her ass.

She knew she was being loud, she wasn't sure when it had changed from moans and gasps to, "Harry!" When she flexed against him he spun her quick and she forgot about the fireworks. Her hands pulled his shirt free of his pants, she didn't even bother to unbutton it, her eager hands pushing it up his body. He helped her get it off and she moved on to unbuttoning his pants.

He filled her hand up and she was happy to feel a mattress at her back and his motion and strong thighs guiding her up to the headboard.

He didn't stop kissing her, all over her mouth and neck. She could hear him rustling in the side table. The crinkle of the wrapper was louder than the booms outside the window.

Harry sat back on his haunches and she got her first eye full. She knew other parts of her body would be brimful soon.

His tip a deep pink, weeping. She had come, not so long ago, though the tightness between her legs made it seem longer. Harry had not. When Keira brought her hands up to help him get skinned. She gasped, "You're so hard."

"For you." The roll of the condom met his wiry hair, and he pressed her back to the bed. Keira was ready, more than.

But Harry trailed down, with his fingertips, followed by his lips, and teeth.

"Can I have a taste?" He asked again from between her thighs.

Keira answered with a moan. It lasted while his fingers parted her folds, and his fingertips teased her clit. He was holding her down after the first long swipe of his tongue from opening to the gathering of nerves he'd teased her to completion with in her living room.

By the fifth lick, Keira was almost ashamed she was coming. Almost.

"Fuck, fuck fuck's sake Harry, fuck me!" There seemed to be a escalation of the sounds at the window. More and more loud bangs and whistles, shrill pops.

Harry smoothed his long body up her own, the fireworks crescendoed when he fitted the condom tip he'd wet with saliva into her.

The first stroke, the joining, came on the final bang.

Harry came much later.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #mistletoe #with a bang #holiday fic #festive fic

111 notes · View notes

akelyokikagu · 6 years

Text

Step by Step - 1

Step 1 - One Favour Okita was comfortably napping on the bench when Kagura arrived. She sat just beside him, closer than she usually would, and waited for him to greet her first. She knew he wasn't sleeping, anyway.

She shouldn't be asking him for help. It was a bad idea but there was no one else to turn to for this.

As she grew older Kagura was confronted to the very specific female wars upon meeting the girls in the park. All of them had grown beautifully with the dangerous habit of throwing a shade or two in between smiles and sweet voices. Kagura was a strong warrior, she packed punches and kicks that could destroy a spaceship but this was an art nobody taught her and she could only bear with those poisonous words with an uncomfortable laugh.

It wasn't always like this. Before, they were all good friends she liked to chat with— innocent girls babbling about adult life, first love and TV shows. Stuff like that. Now she could feel their envious eyes piercing her back, the obvious tinge of jealousy as they talked about how exotic Kagura was; as if she didn't belong here. And then all became even worse when they fawned over him.

Okita Sougo, a full-time rival and part-time friend and most importantly, the prodigy of the Shinsengumi. He was surprisingly popular with girls of her age if she believed her friends Okita was handsome, young, mysterious and rich. They yearned for him and despite Kagura warning them of his sadistic tendency they either loved it or thought themselves of being able to 'heal' his lonely heart. Because Kagura was considered to be the closest female to Okita, even if they just spent their time bickering and sparring her friends saw her as a rival. An eyesore to their love.

So it came to this. They would be slowly slipping a sentence or two on how Kagura should find someone for herself. Someone who would suit her— a foreign alien prince, perhaps? Of how Amantos and humans hated each other and how everything would be complicated if she were to fall for Okita. That they heard Okita, a countryside samurai, loved the elegant Yamato Nadashiko1 type of woman with long and dark hair. The epitome of a Japanese beauty which meant everything Kagura wasn't.

She hated Okita Sougo for everything. For existing and annoying her, first and turning her rate female friends into she-monsters but most importantly, for making her feel like that. She always acted as if it didn't matter to her but their words hurt; a lot. She knew she was an Amanto, a Yato at that but Earth already became her home and many Earthlings became her friends and family. And there was him.

Okita Sougo.

Nearing the end of her fourteen some madness took upon her and she sneaked into this man's room in order to find his most shameful secret. Little did she know that his collection of magazines would only curse her. She disliked how he liked women very different from her, both in appearance and personality. It felt wrong. Her stomach churned for a long time before realising that as strange it sounded, Kagura wanted his attention. She was his one and only rival after all, why should his eyes stray away from her?

She didn't understand why she became like this, so weak. She used to ignore all negativity thrown at her because she trusted her heart above all and embraced her pride but nowadays she would avoid Okita just so she wouldn't think of their words.

She didn't want to be an outsider. Earth became her home, her friends and family were mostly Earthlings and this was to the point she considered herself to be a human— both a human and a Yato. It scared her that the girls might have leaked some truth along with the jealousy. The idea of being rejected hurt but the idea of being rejected by Okita was terrifying. She was scared to find out why.

But today this fear will be no more. She couldn't spend her time avoiding Okita and get injured by silly words— she was a woman now. These past days Kagura had visited many women for advice: her best friend, her big sister, one courtesan and one stalker, they all helped her in devising a plan.

Seducing Okita. This was what she was going to do, as Sacchan put it there was no better way of learning about these weird feelings with the concerned. They had always been better at actions rather than words and if she succeeded all her female friends would also shut their mouth. Problem solved.

Kagure walked out from her closet with an expensive dark blue qipao with golden pattern Tsukkuyo gave her. It hugged the curves of her body as well as showing off her legs with a higher slit than usual. Her hair was let down for once while she plunged her little finger on a pink pot. Her finger swiped across her pouty lips, now coat pink and glossy.

For her eighteenth birthday a lot of people gifted her nice things. Perfumes, creams, makeup, dresses and such— womanly things. She never used them before because it was not only a hassle but since she was out to play or spare it would only become a waste.

Kagura stepped confidently out of the Yorozuya and walked toward the park and her favourite bench. She could feel eyes on her as she made her way but instead of being overwhelmed Kagura felt like her pride inflated. She was the queen of Kabuki-Cho after all.

"Have you had enough of avoiding me, China?" He asked in a lazy drawl as he removed his eye mask. He glanced at her outfit without saying anything but Kagura noticed a hint of irritation on his face.

"You're just missing me."

"That's right, I've been itching to crush your face on the floor. Hijikata-san had to do for now, shouldn't you take responsibility for his face? It's even uglier than before."

"Why am I brought in this?" Kagura raised her voice. This man could make her blood rise in more than one way. "Isn't that just because you're a sadistic asshole?"

"Big words shouldn't be used by brats like you."

Again. He always sternly told her she was a brat, the same way he did four years ago— what was wrong with him or his eyes?! It was very obvious she grew up into a beautiful woman.

"I'm not a brat," she mustered through all the embarrassment and insecurity. "Everyone says so."

"Well, it's true you're less of a shrimp now but inside you're still the stupid brat we know."

"Fine!" Kagura stood up abruptly and glared at him. "You know, I wanted to ask you first but since I'm just a brat for you I'll go look for someone else!"

She was about to dash away and go back crying in her closet but surprisingly, he caught her. His hand held her wrist as Okita's frown became more apparent.

"Where do you think you're going, China? We didn't even fight yet."

"You can go fight someone who's not a brat!"

"Why are you so sensible today?" He demanded, this time gentler. "And what did you want to ask me?"

Kagura looked away.

"Oi."

"China?"

"The cat's got your tongue or somethin'?"

Kagura still refused to look at him, all the bravery she had collected just spilled out. This was a stupid idea from the very start.

"I just wanted you to go and die. That was my request," she finally answered coldly.

"So you're going to ask someone else to kill me?" Okita's brow rose up along with the right corner of his mouth. "You don't know how to lie, China."

What is he doing?! It didn't take a genius to understand she didn't want to speak, any normal man would drop the subject and let the lady go. Okita Sougo; however, was the king of the Sadists planet and he couldn't do that, could he? It would be too kind of him.

"Policemen shouldn't be harassing beautiful maidens like this Kagura-sama."

"I don't see any maiden," he pulled her closer until she was sat on the bench again, with him standing before her and blocking any escape route. She could simply destroy the bench or him altogether but Gin-chan couldn't waste more money or else there wouldn't be any food left for her and Sadaharu. "And," he caught her attention again, "you shouldn't leave people hanging you know?"

"You'll let me go if I tell you?"

The infuriating man smiled widely, the side of his index connected with his mouth. "That depends on what you're going to say."

Kagura waited. One, two, three minutes passed as Okita continued to grin at her. He wasn't going to let her go.

"Fine," Kagura crossed her arms. "You can't laugh at me Sadist, if you do I'll kill you!"

"Hn."

"I wanted to, I wanted you to teach me." She looked away again, suddenly finding the lonely stone behind the bench interesting.

"Teach what? Glasses and Boss taught you how to read and write already, right?"

"Not that," she shook her head, not knowing where or how to start. It all seemed so clear in her mind until it was really happening. "A maiden has to get experience until the day I find my mate, so…"

"So?"

"I wanted you to teach me. Hand-holding, kisses, sex, stuff like that. Don't laugh! I'm going to find someone else anyway," and then a soft, pained mumble, "cause' you're too dumb."

"Wait." Okita rubbed the bridge of his nose in a tired manner. "What did you just spout China?"

"You heard it already!"

His hand slid from his face to the length if her arm and finally, caught her shoulder with a great strength. "Why me? No, nevermind, who are you going to ask if not me?"

"This Kagura-sama has plenty of suitors you know?" She tried to slap away his hand but he wouldn't budge, this damned man. "Now go away Sadist." "I never said I'll let you go if you said it," he corrected her with the grin she both loved and hated. At the moment, she was hating it. "Since when are you so serious China? Don't tell me you've fallen for this handsome policeman, since when does these kinds of words mattered to us?' "Since I decided so," she replied. She knew that he didn't really mean what he said, the same way she spent years insulting him without ever hating him but somehow her heart would sting and her stomach knot if he mocked her. She was angry at herself for becoming like this and not exactly knowing *why*. She was scared. And she wanted to leave. Quickly. "You're acting as if I'll be rejecting you," Kagura mildly wondered why this sounded like one of these *shojo* confessions, "I accept." "I knew you would ref-" Kagura stopped talking. She blinked once. Twice. "You…" She doubted his words, this could be just another prank of his but he sounded and looked so serious. And his hand, he should remove his hands from her shoulders it was so warm, "you're not joking, right? Did you hide a camera somewhere?" She looked right and left, finding no apparent cameras. "A recorder?" "That's mean China," his hand finally relinquished of its grasp on her shoulders but instead of removing it altogether Okita slid it again to reach her hand. His calloused fingers were wrapped around her hand, "I said I accept it, I'll teach you but under two conditions." Okita took her silence as an approval, appreciating how bashful she had just become, "first you must not try or experience with another man or woman. It is the same for me. And for the second rule everything happen in my room," he glanced at her, "do you agree?" The first rule was easy to accept, Kagura didn't like when he was with someone else, anyway. The second rule was surprising, she thought they would go to a shady Love Hotel— they were in Kabuki-Ho, after all— but perhaps he didn't want to pay every time. "Okay." Kagura couldn't believe her request went so well, she didn't expect anything would be easy with him at all. "It's a deal then," Okita nodded, "let's go then." "Wait— *right now*?" He cocked an eyebrow at her, "of course dumb China. Why else would you go out looking like this?" His head motioned to her dress and her hair, Kagura wondered if he disliked them so much that he wanted her undressed already. She thought the blue suited her. "Don't you have a patrol?' "Well, criminals can wait," he deadpanned as usual. Okita was mysterious sometimes, Kagura had always been able to read him well but there were moments she couldn't understand him at all— for example, despite looking so cold and assertive why was his hand so warm and gentle? "I can't stay too late, just so you know." "Don't worry about that," he laughed, "I will go easy on you for now." Kagura wondered what it meant, as they walked together toward the Shinsengumi with their fingers tangled.

The ideal Japanese woman, full of virtues. ↩

#fanfic #gintama #okikagu #smut coming kek #not sure on when i'll update with uni #okita sougo #kagura #english

119 notes · View notes

newmoneytrash · 5 years

Text

GOOD VIDEO GAMES THAT I PLAYED IN 2018

(I haven’t proofread this yet so it’s probably grammatically stupid, but I’m a stupid person so it fits my aesthetic)

I finished over 30 games in 2018, and spent I don’t know how long playing bits and pieces of I don’t know how many others, and, I gotta say, I feel maybe less connected to video games than I ever have before? I’ve had so many moments of weird disassociation while playing games this year where I’ve just felt like I’ve stepped outside of myself and asked “why am I doing this?”, only to handwave my astral projection away because I know why I’m doing this. I’m having fun!

I think?

There were many times where I would have this haunting, sinking feeling. The words of the modern philosophers Blink-182 reverberating around the inside of my head; well, I guess this is growing up. I turned 30 this year; it’s only natural with age that I would slowly move away from something that was so important to me from my childhood. My life has pretty drastically changed over the last five years or so, predominantly positive changes, thankfully, and my priorities are just different now. So it makes sense that my love and dedication towards video games should change too, right?

But then that same disassociating feeling would come when I would engage with other mediums. I felt it while reading books, watching movies or TV, when I was working, even while listening to music. Even while eating? And I *know* why I eat, it’s important! Which slowly lead me to the realisation that *I* wasn’t growing up, I’m still as cool and chill as ever. I own a skateboard and a basketball and completely ignore the dress code at work because I’m chill as hell! But like so many other aspects in my life, my priorities and the things I value have changed. It’s just that they changed without me realising and it took me the entire year to catch up with them.

I spent a lot of time playing games I didn’t like playing without realising that I didn’t like them. If I had the year over, I wouldn’t have banged my head against God of War trying to like it just because everyone is telling me it’s Good. I wouldn’t have spent dozens of hours playing and finishing Spider-Man despite feeling no connection to it all. I used to pride myself on playing and liking old games and bad games and finding things that I enjoyed about them on their own merits, but on reflection I realise they were just the games that I played in the gaps between these giant grey pillars of Big Video Game releases. This year, for whatever reason, that thought process inside of me snapped and I’m glad it did.

A big part of what made me want to play the new big releases was that I liked to be a part of the larger conversation about them, but now I realise the only people I actually want to have conversations with don’t care how new or old a game is, or how good or bad it’s considered to be, as long as I care about what I’m talking about.

Anyway, this is just a *very* long way of me making a very simple point, which is; fuck video games, do whatever you want.

Despite all of these weird misgivings and all this introspection I still had a good time with some dumb, stupid video games and I still like writing about them, so I’m gonna.

Resident Evil

I finished 2017 by playing both The Evil Within Games as well as Resident Evil VII and Revelations, and started this year by playing Resident Evil 4, 5, Survivor, and Operation Raccoon City. That’s a lot of Resident Evil! Too much? Who’s to say? (Me, I’m to say. And; yes, it’s entirely too much). I also spent about a month or so this year watching through all of the Friday the 13th movies which, weirdly, helped me frame the weird feelings I had towards Resident Evil. For both franchises there is something extremely specific that I want from them that I just don’t think either of them are really interested in giving me. I don’t want an impervious, hulking demon-Jason rampaging through the streets of New York or floating through space, I want the weird skinny, nimble Jason with a sack on his head who has lived almost his entire life alone in the woods just outside of Crystal Lake. An extremely human Jason who, when he gets hurt, grunts and cries in pain, but perseveres regardless because his mom is just a decapitated head now and he’s not really sure how he feels about it.

With Resident Evil I just want these small, personal stories. Individuals caught in a shitty situation with no escape and no larger agenda. No neat fitting, worldwide conspiracy or double turns involving the president’s grandfather owning founding stock in Umbrella or the T-Virus being written on the back of the Declaration of Independence. I loved the first two thirds of Resident Evil VII because that’s how it felt. It felt so *personal* in a way that I wanted. Resident Evil never wants to give me that, at least not entirely, but I will latch on to the few instances it does with dear life because, when they commit, even just slightly, it’s as good as anything can be.

Tony Hawk’s Underground

On Christmas day I fell into one of those weird deep but fleeting depressions that really only Christmas can provide. I tried to sleep but I just couldn’t, that weird sense of dread and helplessness eating at me, keeping me awake until the early hours of the morning. So, I got out of bed and decided to just embrace my depression by sitting in the dark and staring into the harsh glow of my computer monitor. I don’t know what it was that drove me to download all of the Tony Hawk games available for PC, but I did. It was cathartic spending hours mounting disks and entering cmd prompts to get those old games to work on stupid Windows 10. I then stayed up until six in the morning playing Underground, letting this warm and familiar game gently ease me back to a place and time when the only thing I cared about was stealing ten dollars out of my dad’s wallet so I could go to McDonald’s. It’s good to know that no matter where I am or what I’m doing or how I feel there will always be a place I can retreat to where Eric Sparrow is the world’s biggest dickhead and where I can do a 720 Benihana behind an alien themed strip club next to a cop standing suggestively next to a goat.

I was 15 when I first played Underground, and I’m 30 now, and it’s comforting to know that on the simplest level the things that I value the most are still largely the same. And those values are hating cops and listening to NOFX. Hopefully I can revisit it when I’m 45 and, if I do, I hope that I feel largely the same way.

Yakuza 4

I started my slow journey through the Yakuza series almost exactly three years ago and, in that time, I have played through seven games (finishing Kiwami, 4, and 5 this year). I’m part way through the Yakuza Fist of the North Star game and then, after that, I only have three games to go until I’m all caught up. Which, to be fair, will probably mean that by the time I’ve finished those three games two more will have been released. It’s a never-ending cycle!, but one that I’m glad I’m on.

I chose to specifically highlight Yakuza 4 because it just felt so special to me. It was the perfect meeting of everything that I have loved about all of the games that I have played, while also introducing me to characters that I have grown to love more than any others. Kiwami is a good game, but it’s just a remake of the first, and a budget remake at that, so it’s hard for me to feel strongly about it. Yakuza 5 is also good but, fuck, it’s *way* too long. It shouldn’t be that long! It’s like 60 hours long. That’s too long! Yakuza 4 gets everything right, it hits all of the sweet spots that every game after it should be judged against. And it also introduces Akiyama, a fictional man that I would risk my life for.

I try to recommend Yakuza to everyone, but it’s a *very* hard sell. It’s so long and so story dense. Every game except for the very first is spoken exclusively in Japanese, and reading subtitles for a series where each entry averages a 30-hour minimum play time is a lot to ask. But when you see Kiryu fight with his conscience over whether or not he should buy a porn magazine for a kid it really puts it all into perspective.

Final Fight: Streetwise

Final Fight: Streetwise is such a meme of a game. One of the classically bad attempts at converting a beloved 2D franchise into a 3D game. I’d seen videos of it before, even once watching an entire playthrough of it, and, sure, it seemed bad, but it also seemed charming too. I decided to finally sit down and play it for myself to see if I was just missing something in only having watched it and not played it and, to really no surprise because I’ve accepted that I’m just trash who loves trash, I loved it! It’s not a *good* game, but it has so much heart! I thought it was going to be something that was phoned in, a poorly put together 3D brawler with the Final Fight named slapped on top of it, but it isn’t. You can just feel that they wanted this to be something, and I really think it could have been! It’s too much of a stretch to think if they did a *few* things differently this wouldn’t be a bemoaned misstep in a dying franchise, but a cult classic that never got the praise it deserved.

It's very silly and unnecessarily over the top, but there is nothing that you can say that will convince me that if this game didn’t have the Final Fight name on it people would still bring it up today as something that we missed the potential on. This is maybe the hottest take that I have that no one will ever even pretend to care about, but I don’t care! Final Fight: Streetwise deserved better.

Florence

I don’t really have any patience for mobile games outside of this one NBA Jam game that I’ve had on my phone for like eight years and play exclusively when I hide in the bathroom at work because I don’t want to do any work, but Florence is so short and so incredibly charming that it might be my favourite game that actually released in 2018. It’s a narrative game about the life of a relationship between you, Florence, and some dude that maybe had a name but I don’t remember. A lot of the actual activities you do in the game are mundane, like brushing your teeth or unpacking your belongings or doing math on a spreadsheet at work, but they serve to make this very personal story feel all the more grounded.

It’s also the only video game I’ve ever played that has been set in Melbourne, where I live, and incorporates a lot of local places and scenery and that was very cool and exciting for me!

If you have a compatible smartphone please play Florence.

Severed

I don’t know that I really have anything particularly interesting to say about Severed. I played Guacamelee for the first time this year after owning it for a long time and just never getting around to it, and I fell in love with it, devouring it in a few days. It sent me on a trip through Drinkbox Studios’ catalogue, playing all of their games with the exception of Guacamelee 2 (I want to get around to it, but I’m just destined to take a long time getting there). The game that I probably looked forward to the least was Severed. It’s a first-person dungeon crawler with metroidvania elements where the combat and interactions with the world is done exclusively on a touch screen. I don’t like touch screen games at all, especially not ones with precise movements and timing, but I thought I would try it regardless and almost immediately fell in love with it. The art style is incredible and the general tone and mood of the game rules. Guacamelee and those Tales from Space games are super goofy, so I wasn’t expecting Severed to be so… dark. But it is! And it rules. I really can’t oversell how beautiful it is, especially if you play on like a newer iPad or something where the colours can really pop.

Kingdom Hearts II

Kingdom Hearts is some stupid bullshit where you play as a guy who looks like a DeviantArt sketch titled Cloud-Strife-Twink.bmp with amnesia and Donald Duck yells homophobic slurs at you until you remember who you are and then you fight members of a My Chemical Romance cover band because they stole the last of Aladdin’s magic beans until Mickey Mouse shows up to tell you to kiss your girlfriend about it.

It’s the only game franchise in history that makes you want to fly to Japan and choke Tetsuya Nomura to death for making the most consistent voice of reason in this elaborate universe Goofy, the idiot dog-man.

Fuck Kingdom Hearts. Five Stars.

Red Dead Redemption II

Despite feeling totally disenfranchised with the Big Video Game industry, I still remained extremely excited for Red Dead Redemption II. The first game might be my favourite game of all time, and this game just looked like more of that but better looking and bigger and more new.

It *isn’t* that, though. At least not entirely.

The thing that I love the most about this game is that it doesn’t even consider valuing or respecting your time. It goes at its own pace, it takes it’s time in almost every single thing it does. It’s slow, sometimes painfully slow, but in a way that’s consistent. It never feels like it’s slow because they fucked up and a made a mistake or because they needed to pad the game out, it’s slow because that’s the speed that this world moves at and I respect the hell out of it. Newer games seem to lean more towards being snappier and faster and more accessible, which is a largely positive move, but Read Dead Redemption II could have very easily been called Minutiae Simulator 2018 with the amount of small and mundane things it asks of you.

Creating a world this intricate and purposeful and slow made me feel a connection with Arthur Morgan that I don’t know I’ve felt with a video game protagonist in… well, ever, I think? I care about changing his clothes, not just to make him look cooler but just because people need to change their clothes, so he does too. I care about grooming Arthur, making sure he’s well fed and bathes at least somewhat regularly. It got to a point where I realised that I had very easily slipped into role playing this character in a way that I have never done before, and it happened very naturally and without a conscious effort to do it.

I used to live across from a park that held a regular LARPing group and, whatever, that’s cool! They have this thing that they’re passionate about and it lets them engage with it creatively and they have built this community and that’s valid as hell and it rules. But? Also? At the same time? They’re just fuckin’ big huge dorks. They’re still valid, but there is just no escaping that they are giant nerds doing something extremely dorky.

Well the stupid shoe is on the other idiot foot now because that’s me, but without the creativity or community or even the part where you go outside.

At least I don’t have to carry my giant wizard stick on the train.

6 notes · View notes

ramblingsthebookblog · 6 years

Text

Book Review: The Whispering Skull by Jonathan Stroud

Why do I want to get pints with the skull

Five Stars

‘The Whispering Skull ‘ is the second book in the Lockwood & Company series. Named so for the mysterious skull that George stole from the Fittes agency when he left. At the end of ‘Screaming Staircase’ Lucy discovered that not only can the skull talk, she can communicate with it.

The book opens with the gang doing what they do best...investigating hauntings.

Lockwood, Lucy and George are good at what they do and are better than all their rivals because they can think outside the box. In saying that our trio are, to use an irish phrase, incredibly cack handed. It’s part of the reason why the characters are so great. They’re brilliant at what they do but they aren’t slick. Let’s go tackle a haunting at a spooky house? Feck it, burn the house down. Is that a wraith? Throw ALL the shit at it. I love them.

After George messes up a bit of research, the trio lose an investigation to Kipps and his minus craic gang of ghost hunters at the Fittes agency.

Have I talked about Kipps? He’s in his twenties and is an adult supervisor to the child investigators at Fittes. Because he’s an adult he no longer possess the Talent needed to investigate and fight ghosts. It’s obvious that, at one point, he was quite a talented investigator himself.

Despite the fact that Kipps is in his twenties, and a grown ass man, he is incredibly hung up on boosting his fragile male ego by getting into fights with teenagers. Unlike most millennials he’s got a job for a life, a secure income and will never have to work a zero hour contract job in his life. Some might dine out on that for life but no, the man insists on being a douche.

Slightly humiliated from their loss, George issues a challenge to Kipps. The next time they go toe to toe they’ll fight it out for the top spot. The loser must post an advert in the newspaper saying the other agency is the best agency. Kipps, still not mature enough to just say ‘No, mate, I’m going home to watch Netflix. You carry on,’ agrees.

All the action kicks off when the trio are on another job to help seal a mysterious coffin. There’s a bit of mishap and George gets sight of an object in the coffin that spooks him cold. The same object is later stolen by grave robbers. When it comes to pass that the stolen artifact is incredibly dangerous, DEPRAC tells Lockwood & Co and Fittes to work together to find it. Because of their bet...that doesn’t happen.

In Whispering Skull Stroud does a great job of balancing humour alongside horror. The back story made my stomach turn a wee bit. The ‘Bone Glass’ is genuinely creepy. It was a great plot device to introduce us to the wider world around Lockwood & Co like DEPRAC and the smuggling underground.

We get introduced to some brilliant new characters in this book. Who loves Flo? Raise your hand. We stan a girl who spends her days hunting through mud in the Thames to find dead bodies for cash. She’s a great addition to the series and I hope we get to see her again.

Indeed, Whispering Skull’s biggest strength is its focus on character development. Poor George is at the heart of this. It’s obvious that Lucy’s presence in the gang has left him feeling a bit left out. His mishap with Kipps leaves him questioning his abilities. Lucy and Lockwood, too caught up in themselves, don’t seem to notice that their friend is suffering because of his incident with the bone glass.

Our girl Lucy is settling into Lockwood & Co nicely. She’s still as kick ass as ever and just as brash. Because of her new found ability to talk to the skull, we really get to see just how powerful she is.

It’s so obvious that Lucy has it bad for Lockwood. And that Lockwood is completely oblivious. Those two. I ship it, reader. I was delighted to discover the existence of #lucewood the other day. Like all YA books I fully expect this romance to be a slow burn that will drive me mad. Big shout to George, who obviously ships it too. Every time his mates play dumb he does the literary equivalent of looking at the camera

Lucy though...I adore her, but we need to acknowledge her flaws. She’s head strong, brave and tough. She also needs a clip round the ear sometimes. Thanks to her insecurities, and her own lack of confidence, she is incredibly stand offish when it comes to new characters, particularly girls. She admits herself that she has no female friends. It’s disappointing to see.

Listen, internalised misogyny is a thing. Society teaches girls that there’s only one way to be a woman while at the same time telling them that girls are stupid, silly and pathetic. Girls learn to hate themselves from a young age and we often turn that hate on each other. I was a little like Lucy when I was a girl but, thankfully with age, learned to wise up. I really hope Lucy gets over this.

And as for Lockwood, I spent most of the first book going, ‘You are hiding something boo boo’ and, thank goodness, Whispering Skull tackles that head on. I find it hard to pin down Lockwood. He’s a genuinely likable character but he’s so mysterious that, at times, he comes across a insincere. I was glad to see the skull ( my new fav), quite blatantly point this out.

So, the Skull. We finally learned its back story, though what it is and what it’s up to is still up for debate. The skull seems to be able to predict the future and....give relationship advice? It’s like a haunted Dear Deidre with sass. Thanks to Lucy’s abilities the skull has become an permanent addition to the Lockwood team, coming with them on hauntings and helping them out with investigations. Its quips lead to some of the books funniest moments. While the gang try and figure things out it hangs about in the background like a snarky commentator. Its depressing outlook on life coupled with its hilarious desire would make me book a second date. It would be great craic down the pub. More please.

Despite its rather ominous warning at the end of book one...the skull didn’t elaborate any further on the whole ‘death thing.’ The book ended on us all learning something more about Lockwood but he’s still just as mysterious as ever.

This is an excellent follow up to The Screaming Staircase. I need more adventures with my ghost hunting babies. On to the Hollow Boy.

3 notes · View notes

hencethebravery · 6 years

Photo

“The Swan-Jones Christmas Special,” a CS Writers’ Hub Secret Santa gift for @justanotherwannabeclassic! Merry Christmas, Shea! May the holiday season warm ur heart and bring good things to u and yours. xo

When you’re living your “Happily Ever After,” there’s no reason you can’t start enjoying the holidays. A happily married, post-S6 holiday extravaganza.

+ The first Christmas after she bears the official title of being someone’s “wife,” (which, when in the hell did that happen) Emma Swan-Jones decides that she is no longer obligated to be such a Grinch.

In her worn, imaginary copy of The Sad Orphan’s Handbook for Fairytale Saviors with Wretched and Otherwise Tragic Backstories, celebrating the holidays is one of those things that naive, mistakenly happy people do because they don’t know any better. Because they would rather be happy and dumb than smart and depressed (and obviously lacking a basic understanding of the evils of American capitalism). Up until only a few years ago, the holiday season had been nothing more than a way to convince people with no money to spend all of their money. An excuse for people who don’t get along (and usually with good reason) to be forced into the same room with one another, drinking away their disagreements and ignoring the inevitable truth of their lives: that nothing matters and the holiday season is an illusory, peppermint-flavored garbage festival.

The first Christmas after she bears the official title of being someone’s “wife,” (which, when in the hell did that happen) Emma Swan-Jones decides that she is no longer obligated to be such a Grinch.

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“A ‘Grinch,’ Killian, my God.”

No more, she thought stubbornly, trying and failing not to grin at the sight of Main Street all lit up and festive on the first of December. Nevermind the fact that Christmas was still, like, 3 weeks away, and putting up decorations this early and playing Christmas music non-freaking-stop at Granny’s is unbelievably annoying, and—this was gonna be a little bit harder than she thought.

After they watched the original, 1960s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and Killian had a somewhat clearer idea of what Emma might have meant when she said that she no longer felt compelled to be a “Grinch,” he was still somewhat befuddled by the expression. Which was still just as charming as ever, but sometimes she wished she didn’t have to crack open her heart quite so much.

“Are you suggesting that your heart is of an unusual size, love? Because I hate to tell you this, but I have seen it.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” she says on a huff, pressing a hand against her sternum as if looking for the beat of the thing. “So?” he asks again, giving her a playful nudge, “What does it mean to not be a ‘Grinch,’ as you say?”

Sometimes she feels herself becoming quite sick at the prospect of having to share yet another one of her pitiful childhood memories (wondering if he hasn’t grown a bit sick of hearing it yet), but in order to really explain to him the whole, “embracing the holiday season” thing, he does kind of need the context.

“I know the Enchanted Forest,” trying desperately not to cringe when those words pass her lips, “didn’t really ‘celebrate’ in the same way this world seems to—”

“I don’t know,” he interrupts thoughtfully, “we had the odd celebration from time to time. I know I certainly stopped caring once I was at sea, but, it was known to happen.”

She’s not going to argue with him, and he is probably right, but she knows that there’s absolutely no way that the celebrations in magical, fairytale place were ever anywhere near as over-the-top as this world’s. For one thing, no constant, looping holiday music from every speaker in existence. No holiday-themed food and drink and movies and television—no constant, living reminders of the fact that the holidays are a special time for family and friends and some people don’t have any of those.

“I wanted it,” she begrudgingly admits, “at first.”

At a younger age, before she realized that it was folly to want such things. She desperately wanted the music, and the shopping, and the baking of the cookies. She wanted the nicely wrapped presents under the tree, and the large, obnoxious family dinners. And in retrospect, of fucking course she wanted those things. What small child, awash in the light and warmth of the holiday, wouldn’t want those things?

There was of course, the rather unfortunate truth, that Emma Swan had not been placed in the ideal situation for achieving optimal holiday bliss.

“Most of the homes I was in,” she explains, to the aggrieved look on her husband’s face, “didn’t really care. Or didn’t have the money to.”

She has incredibly vivid memories of asking for things—nothing extravagant or complicated, but just, ya know, basic. Can I get a coloring book for Christmas? Can we bake some cookies today? Can we go get a tree? And to all of these questions, at any point in time before her pre-teen years, the answers were almost always disappointing, tinted with anger, or downright cruel. A lot of them often followed the, “Do you think you’re special?” theme, as if an orphaned nobody would have the gall to suggest that she be treated like any other kid in her class.

“Well,” Killian says after a pause in her recollections, trying and failing to avoid touching his wife, when all he wants to do is wrap her in his arms and never let her leave the house, “that settles that, then.”

She looks back at him with a question in her expression, the small frown fighting to stay in place despite the fact that she has suddenly found herself locked in an almost painful hug. Not that this sort of thing hasn’t happened before.

“Christmas, Swan. You shall never want for a proper holiday celebration again. I swear it.”

“This isn’t Buckingham Palace, ya know,” she replies sardonically, again, trying to keep from laughing and pathetically losing this game they always seem to be playing, “we can just bake cookies or something, you don’t need to embark on a noble quest to defend my honor or something equally stupid.”

“You know very well I have no idea what that means, darling,” a large, absurd smile, and a wet, warm kiss on her cheek, “but defending your honor will always be one of my very highest priorities.”

Killian Jones spends the next few years making certain that every single one of their Christmases post-wedding is practically over-laden with holiday cheer. One year, that same year she had made her enthusiastic pledge to fully and unequivocally embrace all the holiday flim-flam, she had returned home from the station to find an unreal number of lights decorating nearly every inch of their property. From the understated, white twinkle lights to the large, retro-looking bulbs in shades of various primary colors—their entire house was practically a fire hazard; hung in the usual places, lining the rooftop, wrapped around the bannister, and even lined along the walls of their bedroom (for “mood”).

He also started pushing out more cookies than the Keebler Elf, which she pretended to be upset about until he caught her stuffing them in her face in the middle of the night. He experiments with a number of sizes, flavors, and colors, shopping them around to friends and family members, trying to discover the perfect combinations. The snickerdoodles are Emma’s favorite, especially when he “accidentally” drops in more cinnamon than the recipe had called for (which drives him a bit “batty,” but it’s worth it).

And before she knows it, these small, silly, typically Killian Jones-type things become something like… tradition? Swan-Jones family traditions. There are lights every year, no matter how busy they seem to get (with her parents, or Henry, or some other magical bullshit), and they watch the same movies every Christmas Eve (How the Grinch Stole Christmas, of course). And when the unexpected finally happens, and she’s only just begun to show a bit round middle, there’s always a small plate of cookies set aside for her cravings in the middle of the night.

“Ah,” he says quietly, a warm hand resting between her breasts and swollen belly, a heart beating in tandem with hers (both of them), “Just as I thought.”

“What’s that?” she asks sleepily, with the barest comprehension of whatever romantic nonsense he’s spewing at this particular moment. “Your heart, darling,” and she opens her eyes just wide enough to see his face aglow with the warm light of their tree, “just about three sizes too big.”

#ouat ff #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs drabble #writing hub ss #captain swan #cs: shit is breathtaking bro #@hencethewriter

102 notes · View notes

hello-stensy-blog · 6 years

Text

Crushable, Chapter II : Should I stay or Should I go?

Everything was pitch black in the car’s trunk. The only thing Stensland was able to say about the road was that it was pretty bumpy now. The darkness was not the only inconvenience: he was uncomfortably huddled up on himself. It reminded Stensland of a childhood memory. When he was ten, playing hide and seek with his cousin, he hid in his grandpa's car trunk. After a few hours of searching, no one could find him. Stensland was pretty proud of not being easily found that day. Now, he would give the world to have someone find him, because despite appearances, Stensland was not ten anymore and he couldn’t fit in such a tiny place without it hurting. Plus, this was no game. It wasn’t his old grandpa’s cheap car, but a bad guy’s expensive one.

He was ugly sobbing. He has had too much contradictory feelings in the last twenty four hours. I just want to go home. I'm scared. These guys don’t mess around. What the Hell are they going to do to me?

*********************************************** They attempted to chase down the vehicle until they lost sight of it. The angry ginger in the passenger seat had his face all tensed. Clyde was driving but he didn’t know where he was even going anymore. Eventually, the ginger told him a direction that he followed.

-So is this like your plan B or somethin'? -More like plan G, to be honest, the ginger answered in a cross tone.

They drove until they reached an abandoned house deeper into the countryside. They parked here and Clyde went to remove a very distressed Stensland from the car's trunk.

-Don’t kill me, please! I didn’t know there was money in your bag! -And how come you know now? the Ginger retorted. Stensland had no idea how to answer, but it didn’t matter. At the bag’s owner command, Clyde was shoving him inside the house. Stensland ended up cuffed to a chair in the middle of a near-empty room, the only furniture being the chair he sat on and another. Stensland had watched enough TV to know where this was going. His whole body was shaking. He looked like a frightened child. The sight of it was making Clyde feel sad. He thought that it was unfair, somehow, that Stensland was not a bad guy or a criminal. He was just dumb enough to steal a bag obviously filled with dirty money. He’s no gangster, he’s no more than a scared kitty. Crushable in so many ways. While the mean ginger was away, Clyde awkwardly stroked Stensland’s hair in a comforting way. Stensland tensed up, then relaxed after a second. His face now showed something like hope.

-Please, he told Clyde in a begging tone, You have to help me. They will cut me into little dice if you don’t! -They won’t, Clyde said. Clyde stepped back quickly when the ginger returned. He was yelling on the phone again.

- Ugh! I don't know, Ren, figure this out on your own! You're a grown up! You know where to find me when you’ve finished! He hung up. He gave Stensland a nasty smile. Dude's even more frightening when he smiles, Clyde thought. What is he up to now anyways?

-My colleague is currently looking for the car that left with the bag, if you want to know. When he is done with that, he will join our little party. You have until his arrival to come up with a way to refund me.

-But I... I don't know! I really don’t ! I am so sorry, but that was a lot of money, and- He slapped Stensland to make him shut up. It worked. He then said: -I KNOW there was a lot of money. That is precisely why it is SO important. -I-I can’t do anything for you, I’m sorry, I’m SO sorry! They left with that bag, and I don’t have a lot of money right now so it will take me ages to fill up a bag, and- -Oh, I’m so sorry, the Ginger said with a mockingly empathic tone, I had no idea you were so miserable! I guess that’s settled then, I’ll leave you be! Everything is forgiven, everything is forgotten! I’ll just have to tell my boss that you are sorry! He’s a very understanding guy, after all! </p>

He slapped him once more and switched to his usual cold voice: -If my coworker can't get his hands on the bag you stole, I swear we will enslave you. So you better pray that we get it back before I lose my patience.

Clyde frowned. Okay, that is definitely wrong, and not only because the poor Stensland looks like he is about to shit himself. I can't stand there and watch these guys destroy his life just for some stupid money, can I? It ain't like the mafia is running low on money. So what if they lost some? They're probably gonna get twice what they lost by the end of the week. While Clyde settled deep in his thoughts, the conversation between the two gingers went on. There were more threats thrown from one side and begging from the other. It ended with Stensland’s chair being kicked, falling to the ground with him on it. Blood was streaming across Stensland's face from the impact when his eyes met Clyde's. He looked miserable―like a martyr. He does not belong in this harsh crime world, he has an angel's face. He should be married to a sweet girl, expecting a cute baby and owning two fluffy kittens instead of the life this mafia boy promised him. Clyde made up his mind then. Knocking down the abusive ginger was an easy task for him as he was too caught up in bullying Stensland to notice Clyde’s move in on him. He took him down with a strong blow to the head with the second chair. In one of the stunned man’s pant pocket he found a set of keys. He found one to free Stensland from his handcuffs and helped him up. Stensland was definitely confused at the new turn of events.

- Can you stand? Clyde asked him.

Stensland nodded quickly. His body was shaking.

-Let's go. Stensland hurriedly gathered his backpack and followed him.

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

Stensland was back in that car, except now he was not in the trunk. He was in the passenger's seat and Clyde was driving really fast. Rifling in the glove box, Stensland found a wallet. His interest was piqued and he checked inside. It contained cash (lots!) and an ID card. Stensland giggled. Clyde threw a brief glance over to him, wondering what was so funny.

-His name is Armitage! -Your name is Stensland, Clyde reminded him.

Stensland pouted a bit. Now he felt silly for even bringing it up. The silence was too heavy for him, so he kept his mind busy by resuming exploring the contents of the glove box. Stensland found a gun. He definitely had goosebumps now, taking it in his hands. It was heavier than what he imagined. He began pretending to aim just for fun. He felt like a Big Deal. Well, maybe he was after all. In the past twenty four hours, lots of shit had happened he had never thought he would ever experience. Clyde turned to him again.

-Uh, you know how to handle a gun, right?

Stensland sighed. Why did people always assume he had no idea of what he was doing? Why did people always think of him as a big baby? He answered with overconfidence:

- Well, it’s simple! A child could-

He was interrupted by the sound of the gun’s silencer going off as he accidentally fired. Both men jumped at the sound and Clyde lost control of their vehicle for a time, which caused Stensland to scream his lungs out. Clyde quickly took action to restore their initial position on the road. Now that the situation was under control and they were no longer at risk of getting into an accident, Clyde squared his jaw and ordered Stensland in the nicest way possible:

-Put that gun down, please.

Clyde didn’t need to ask twice. Stensland quickly put the gun back in the glove box.

-I’m so, so sorry, I-

As he was apologizing once again--something he had done far too much in the time Clyde has known him, Stensland saw IT. His face instantly got two shades lighter as he realized what he had done. He had accidentally shot Clyde’s left arm. Clyde had certainly noticed the bullet hole in his prosthetic, which explained why he looked so dreadfully pissed. Damn it. He saves my life and I repay him by shooting his fake arm. Good job, Stensland.

There was another awkward silence until Stensland had what he considered a bright idea. He fumbled in his backpack until he found them―a colorful box of band aids. Favoring a light blue one with a pattern of ducks and hearts on it, he peeled away the film and proceeded to cover the bullet hole with it. Clyde took a look at it, remaining silent for a while. Then out of the blue, he giggled. That was a relief for Stensland.

*********************************************** Armitage woke up to what sounded like thunder. He promptly got back on his feet, perhaps a little too quickly. He found that he had a terrible headache, and he knew who to blame for that.

-Damn you, Clyde Logan…!

The thunderous sound stopped. Soon, a man entered, wearing a stylized black and silver motorcycle helmet.

-You certainly took your time, Ren, Hux growled, They’re gone! -For fuck’s sake, Hux! I was chasing the idiots who stole the money YOU were dumb enough to let them have! At least show some appreciation! -Well, did you catch them? -I didn’t, Ren admitted, But that’s not the point! -Why would I show you appreciation then! Oh god, let’s just skip that! Did you tell ANYONE? -Of course not. -At least there is something you did well. We must go now! These assholes took my car! -Wait… Come again? Are you telling me that...they took your Camaro?

Ren sounded like he found it amusing. He knew Hux cared about his car way too much. It was on the verge of an obsession, really. A real clean-freak. He never even let them make out inside of it. Picturing his precious baby stolen by two idiotic amateurs... But he quickly changed his opinion when he saw Hux's face. He looked like he was about to spit on his face, burn him alive and cry in shame at the same time.

-Come on babe, chill. We’re gonna catch them. -Don’t you ‘Babe’ me you freaking moron! Let’s GO!

For once, Hux didn’t complain about getting behind Ren on his motorcycle. He ‘hated those machines’ as they always ‘ruined his hair.’ Ren always rode ‘too fast and careless.’ Now, though, desperate times called for desperate measures.

#clydeland #clydeland fic #clyde logan #stensland #logan lucky #crashpad #crash pad #kylux #armitage hux #kylo ren

17 notes · View notes

invinciblerodent · 6 years

Text

Propositioned by the Billionaire Moose - A moose(!!!) shifter romance liveblog

Yes, I’m doing this.

As requested by my dear friend @kurosmind, here it is, the first part of my (hopefully complete) liveblog of this wonderful trainwreck.

And before I would go on to cut this with a Read More, let me begin by saying that I am by no means being purposefully malicious. This is not a terrible book. It’s not a good one either (tbh, the other one I read from this series, “Her UnBearable Protector”, was, to me, much better- the titles are equally silly, but that one kept my attention way longer), but it’s not terrible, and this is purely for fun.

That being said, onto the shit-talking.

Also,

‘Nuff said.

This goes for the introductory blurb AND Chapter 1 as well- the plot is dead simple. It’s the one I would hesitate to call the “tried and true” plot because I hate it with such a burning passion, but it’s the one, you know the one, where the bratty and arrogant heir-dude has to find a wife in a set amount of time in order to get his inheritance.

Because the patriarchy is fun, and forcing someone who doesn’t want to get married into a rushed marriage is going to make for a good and healthy relationship that will benefit both him and his chosen bride. Only this time it’s a maple syrup empire, because THEY ARE MOOSE, and also Canada.

His name is Bryce Elanroux btw, not like it should matter because let’s face it, these kinds of protagonists could be called whatever and they would still all be mostly the same. It doesn’t even have the kind of Character™ that I like in these dude-names beyond it screaming “French-Canadian trust fund kid”. Like in the last one I read the prince was named Niccolito (and surprisingly he wasn’t Italian, what are the odds), and before that, the bear shifter dude was named Salvatore, and I physically cannot read that name without overpronouncing it to shit in an ostentatious and stereotypical Italian accent. Once I read one where the rock star guy was named Ari, and it took the book A WHILE to reveal that Ari was, in fact, short for -guess again because I guarantee it’s not what you expect- ARISTOTLE. So, to get back down from this tangent, Bryce is a real boring name, but not awful. Unfortunately it doesn’t fully embrace the silly or go way Italian for no reason. Gets a C- from me.

Oh, and this time there is also a Suddenly Appearing Cousin Who Is A Competitor For Grandpa’s Will™. Surprise. Where did I put my jaw. I hope that he’s not a moose so we can have just a regular dude in this, just watching in bewildered terror as his uncle and cousin turn into giant land-mammals.

I don’t know how to describe this next part (which is the last paragraph of chapter one), so I’m just going to show it to you as it is:

Charming fellow, isn’t he. Also, a buck with plenty of prancing years.

Chapter 2 begins with introducing our female protagonist, Melanie. Who is inexperienced with guys (check) and would like a “sturdy man” to take charge “for once” (check). It’s real confusing that she would begin by complaining that the reason for her inexperience is that she doesn’t want to actually physically hurt a man, but then also she complains about the juice she bought being heavy, but not really because she can carry it easily, but it’s heavy and there should be a man here to carry it. Makes me think that she too might be a shifter? Maybe a sharp one because she’s talking about giving guys stitches, and later she mentions having claws, but keeping them sheathed? I’d dig that, if she were like a tiger or some shit like that. Imagine what a moose-tiger hybrid would look like.

Real stupid, I’d wager.

Oh, and she also fantasizes about killing her sick mother. Which, yeah, I kinda get because their relationship seems real abusive and draining for her, with no love between them whatsoever, but… look, folks. This girl is a grown-ass woman and has a degree and a job, and she’s lamenting that she has no money because she has to care for a woman whom she hates? Who sometimes flings scalding cocoa into her face because reasons. Leaves me wondering why she even does it? Obviously she can support herself, and it might be my European self talking with our public healthcare backing me up, but Canada, where this is set, also has a publicly funded healthcare system? So I don’t see why it would be cheaper for her to do all this than to have professionals at a hospital or a sanatorium care for this middle-aged woman living with chronic liver problems. It just seems like it’d be a simple enough issue to solve that doesn’t need a BILLIONAIRE MOOSE, but, y’know, some backbone. The ability to make decisions. Taking charge. Y’know, something these protag ladies all seem to sorely lack. Even the ones that make cryptic references to being a were-cat-tiger-bullshit creature.

Btw, a couple paragraphs later? I totally called it. Hell yeah she’s a shifter. And a sharp one. Not a tiger, but a cat-bullshit creature. Another call I’m making now, they’ll meet as animals first. Why else have them both be shifters?

Chapter 3 is back to the dude. Joy. (Side note- how clever would it be if this was a gay story, and the “boy-toy” character was named Fisher Bryce? Fisher-Price? Eh? Eh?)

Btw, I will never stop finding their use of the word “rack” to refer to his antlers funny. It makes it sound like he has a pair of tits on his head. Which, uh….

It just conjures this image in my head, every time.

Oh, and I called it again, they meet shifted. She’s a lynx. Not as good as the image of a tiger shivering somewhere in Canada, but hey.

She’s a furry. The weird kind. Also I had to google “moose ass” for this.

In this chapter, the moose (the prey animal) saves the lynx (the predator) from three wolves (predators). No idea why the wolves would even attack a lynx, or why they would be afraid of a prey animal (which, okay, I get moose are fucking huge and strong, BUT HE IS STILL A DING-DANG DUMB DEER), especially if they’re all shifters, but y’know. There is nothing like a good ol’ Damsel in Distress situation to start off a novel.

We meet the cousin too, Rory, who -so far- seems somewhat less of a shithead than our protagonist.Who, upon finding out that his grandpa is dying, is only talking about the inheritance and shows…. Literally zero compassion. Or nothin’. Even though they seemed to be at least kinda close. Okay then. Asslord.

Also, grandpa is a real romantic. Apple from the tree, I see.

The chapter closes with, and I wish I hadn’t seen this, the third person limited narrator literally saying “#betweenacrackandahardplace”. Which is just. Super bad to read. It took me like five whole seconds to decipher what it was saying, and it still doesn’t make sense.

Here seems like a good place to cut this- I wouldn’t want to go on too long, in three chapter increments seem like a good way to do this. Next time I have a day off, I’ll definitely get to the rest of this and post chapters 4, 5, and 6 because it’s, ngl, real fun to bitch about a not-very-good book.

Again, this is by no means as awful as the last one I tried this review-thing with (that one I didn’t even get to finish because jesus christ it was awful and the reason I hiss at regency romances from afar), but it’s…. quite silly, and has enough opportunities to poke fun of it to last me a while. :) I can’t yet call if it’s gonna be that bad, but we’ll see. If it gets too good I’ll stop this, because then it’s no fun, but.... I have a feeling I might be in for it.

#book review #book liveblog #shifter romance #propositioned by the billionaire moose #are you telling me that's not a tag yet?#noooooooooooooo #no way

17 notes · View notes