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pavo-ocxllus · 11 months

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« rewind. / pause. / fast forward. »

you didn't even care if coffee spilled over the place as you rushed in (luckily, none did), holding ALHAITHAM and your cups in one hand and your client's in the other.

"is there anybody you'd think would be up to this?" you instantly asked, placing down his mug so harshly it was a miracle that it didn't break the glass table. it was biting at the back of your mind—besides, you need to start somewhere, right?

DILUC slightly widened his eyes, naturally shocked at your entrance.

"uh... yes-"

"great, who?"

"calm down, [name]," ALHAITHAM's voice broke you out of your flurry of questions. usually, you'd snap at him to shut up, but you ended up attempting to hold in your incoming grumble. you never thought he out of all people would bring you back down to reality... saying that, you're thankful. you can't afford to make a bad impression on such a high profile client.

...but, you still felt upset that your efforts were put in vain.

"one more time, from the top," the grey-haired man stood up from his chair, his arms supporting his weight as he stared at diluc. "your appointment ends in thirty minutes, so let's keep this brief... there's someone who you'd think would sabotage your ride, correct?"

"yes."

"alright," he grabbed a pen already in his desk and started scribbling away on a sticky note. glancing at the small slip of paper, you can tell he hasn't changed much—for a lawyer, he has the handwriting of a doctor.

"and you said that you might know the identity of the person behind this?"

"correct," he responded sniffing his coffee and proceeding to take a sip from it. "...yet it's not one person. rather... it's eleven."

it didn't take long for both you and alhaitham to figure out what he was talking about.

"the fatui harbingers have it out for you...?"

"only one of them. the problem is that i'm not sure who."

"so you've come into contact with one or more of them before?"

"precisely."

"surely you know the identity of one of them?" you questioned. presumably, if he met all eleven of the harbingers, there was no way it he had no clue who at least one of them were.

"i've only made contact with one of them that others can testify for," diluc got comfortable on the couch, crossing his legs. "il dottore, i believe was his name."

"the doctor," alhaitham muttered as he noted it down.

"if you will, can you tell us about your interactions with him?" you jumped back into the conversation, your curiosity itching the back of your mind against your better judgement.

"i believe it was about a year ago. there was an event mondstadt's high society takes part in every ludi harpastum in which this year, i was the one hosting.

"for a brief moment in time, we were acquainted with one another. i didn't know much other than his name and his affiliation with the fatui, naturally meaning that he was planning on negotiating something. i delayed it to give us more time to act, but just like that, he was already off."

"mm," you let out a sound of acknowledgment, jotting his words down much like alhaitham. "is that all of it?"

"i'm sure of it."

his answer did not lower down your arched eyebrow.

a slightly quiet alarm started beeping, causing all three of you to look down at alhaitham's phone vibrating on his desk.

"i best be on my way, now," diluc stood up and started to gather his things while you tried to scribble down the last of his words into your notes.

"of course..." alhaitham stood up, grabbing diluc's hand to shake it. "we'll see you next week."

"see you."

as the red-haired man took his leave, alhaitham closed the door behind him, then turning his attention to you. "are you done?"

"no... something just doesn't make sense here."

"that wasn't what i was talking about, but—"

"you've noticed it too, right? there's no other way diluc could've been involved in a near death experience with a fatui harbinger unless..."

"can you please stop cutting me off—"

"i think diluc is the darknight hero."

much like yourself a few minutes prior, alhaitham blinked once.

then twice.

"the who?"

"what, do you live under a rock?" you crossed your arms, much to the irk mark now apparent on the side of his forehead. "the darknight hero? mondstadt's superhero??"

"'superhero' isn't the greatest term... vigilante is more fitting."

"whatever," you could only reply, already getting ready to write it down.

"no, not 'whatever,'" alhaitham let out a 'tch,' grabbing your wrist before you can reach out for your pen. "don't you know what this means?"

he didn't give you enough time to answer. "we don't even know if he's innocent of his charges—our goal is to lessen his charges, not add more to it. believe me, vigilantism isn't exactly the best weight to balance the scales in diluc's favor."

"well, how else are we supposed to—"

"that notepad there? it can very well be used for or against our client. if you're going to write down pure speculation on there based on absolutely nothing, be my guest. we aren't in school anymore —you can't be as naïve."

naïve. even after years of insults and banter, you hadn't expected to hit you this hard.

"you're..." right. he's completely right—just because diluc was a bit suspicious and cryptic about the way talked didn't mean anything. regardless, why did it make it so much harder to admit that?

with you silence, alhaitham could only sigh.

"look, i'll understand if you don't want to work with me ever again. it's fine. but let's clear our heads. it's... around twelve-thirty right now. any moment now, you'll—"

on cue, your stomach roared through the room. to you, it seemed louder and longer with only two people being in the room.

"first you and now your stomach..." he muttered, before clearing his throat to cover it up. "get something to eat. i think we'll both need it."

↳ it's time for lunch?

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫? 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞! <𝟑

#𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞.!#𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠: [𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲! 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭...!].!#diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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fineprintedsunsets · 10 months

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Chapter 1: Strange

this is not edited, it's a part of a series, check out my master list for details.

Doctor Stephen Strange. I’ve heard of him, hard not to. He was the guy who restored a sanctuary, brought life back into New York. Even though, a year ago. His hands were steady at the operating table, now he works his way around mystical magic, wielding something much more dangerous then a scalpel.

Magic is dangrerous, yet somehow we all wish to wield it. To get a taste of the adrenaline that course through the veins, to show off, the brag about how you, only you, can save a whole world with just a snap of the fingers. What happens when you have to pay the price for the demons you’ve created along the way?

A person told me once, that your demons never leave you, and as much as I hated to admitted, she was right. Demons prowl at the edge of your bed, that sink their claws into your spine and they tear at you day by day. The angels we meet hardly last, because unlike demons, there life meant something valuable and the knowledge they whisper are not for human ears

Angels are more demons, then demons themselves. Holding that information, keeping into themselves.

I no longer believe in Heaven or Hell, worthless phenomenons if you ask me on a given day. But what is true, are the beings that walk beneath the elevation of our earth. Demons and Angels are real, but the places, practically fairytales to scare children into behaving, or to persuade widows with absent families to go church every Sunday. They are untrue.

I was a whisper once, still am truly. I’m the thing that parents tell there children to behave for. I am not Krampus, nor am I Old Saint Nick. I am Pareidolia. I find meaning when things have none. My large wings, my demon horns, and my glowing red eyes make others advert their gazes. I arrange myself in a group called The Collectors. We’ve been searching for an item in Strange’s possession for awhile now. I can’t have my own demons, I already am one.

Strange owns a watch. A sentimental object given his protection over it. The watch is nothing to us, but the hands, the things that make that clock tick. Are made of something so dangerous, it’s hard to concede.

Plasmanianin Metal. A metal harmful for humans to touch, to breath in, to look at. Plasmatros is where I come from, making me and the other collectors immune to the might sting of the metal. But Strange? It’s hard to understand how the watch has not burned through his skin.

It’s the last object we need, to perform the Resurrection Ritual. To bring back my sister. She is not dead, instead she resides in the land of the angels, clouded by greed and false hope. Madneko is the land in which humans refer to as Heaven, and Hell? Plasmatros.

But if were all just demons, living with other demons, who want Angels to watch over them, What are humans?

A pain in my fucking ass.

“Can you hurry up? Surely the Doctor doesn't have much to do at 11:00pm” I’m shocked he’s still receiving visitors at this time, but his main desk, occupied with his human pet must run a full turn of the sun.

“Stephen is in a mood today, but go on in.” I point for Pactolus to stand at one side of me, while Panolia at the other. They are my greatist protectors. I wear my human skin today, making my red hair shine, my horns tucked into my scalp, and my wings vanishing beneath my rib bones.

Playing human is fun, until you have to act like them.

We push back the doors to the Santum, watching as Strange messes with a cup of water, rewinding the time so he can keep taking mouthfulls without ever having to get up.

Lazy pigs.

I cannot lie, Strange is anything but unattractive. His hair is perfectly combed, with a few flyaways settled at the top, and his subtle nicely trimmed. Even some demons back in Plasmatro don’t compare to this human.

I try to hid my disgust.

Panolia and Pactolus stay at my side, they too wearing human skin. I clear my throat as Strange takes another gulp, resting his feet up on a large desk. His attire is leather, blue and red. Of course, accompanied by, the levitating cloak he received at Kamar-Taj.

“Name?” Strange speaks, his voice is entitled, something humans seem to posses alot of.

Entitlement. He sits on throne he did not carve.

“Pare.”

“This is Pan.” I tip my chin at the blonde women to my right,

“And Pac.” I motion to Pactolus on my left. His black hair seemingly sucking the light out of this room.

“Lies.” He smiles, cocking his head. Stephen raises a brow and takes another sip of water. The Time Stone lights against his chest each time he loops the action.

I narrow my eyes, never wanting to be upshown by a human. Especially this one.

“Take off the mask.” He says it with intimacy, his voice the same high tone I despise. I grit my teeth, but do not remove my human disguise.

“Pan, Pac. Let me handle it.” My protectors hesitate, before the nod, and walk outside the door letting it close. I can feel them, stationed just outside.

“Hello, Pareidolia” Stephen cocks a small smile, standing from his desk, rounding the wooden piece of furniture before crossing his ankles against each other, and settling against the wood frame. I almost gasp as he eyes take in my human body. Why am I feeling something? What is this human doing?

He rolls his eyes, seeing I have yet to unveil myself. “Does the demon not want to play?”

The rage the fills my bones is unlike any other. The nerve of this bastard, thinking he has the right to taunt me. It’s a privilege his eyes get to lay upon me. I stretch the human skin away, feeling it break, seeping back into my bones. He watches. This act feels intimate to, almost as if he’s watching me undress. A certain heat shoots through my body and all I want to do is recoil in disgust.

I roll my eyes into my head, replacing them with the glowing pools of red. My horns tear through my skull, growing as he watches it all. Even as I breath in and out, forcing the wings to break from my back, watching the feathered black cardilage expand from me. My armor coils around me like spider venom, crawling up and down my arms, legs, and back. Piercing together by each strand until..

I stand in front of him as Pareidolia not Pare. Stephen eyes roam me, his human hands gripped against the desk. I see him walk toward me, but I don’t move. He circles me, eyes my wings, my horns, my eyes, my thighs. Even if their covered with metal, I still feel a jolt of electricity shoot from my body to my pressure point.

“What do you request of me?” He raises an eyebrow, stationing himself back at his desk, his ankles crossed, his cape dangling almost effortlessly over his sides.

“I need the metal.”

“Need, or want?” I step forward, my voice forcing itself into a growl.

“It is not time for your games. A life hangs at stake.”

Stephen looks at me, cocking another grin. I suck in a breatth as he opens up his vile, but somewhat large mouth to speak.

“Ah yes. The sister who choose Heaven over Hell.” I ignore how he knows it already, the story of me, my sister, Angels and Demons. He knows my story, but Stephen Strange does not know me.

He dosent seem the least bit intimidated by my demon frame, and it makes it all the more unsettling. If the watch wasn't already enough.

“Just give me it and we can go our separate ways.” I grumble, my voice ringing loud in his office. I cringe at it, the space in which he works.

“Why would I give my watch, a 800 dollar model, to a demon?”

“You don’t care about it’s value.”

“I do. Just not in the way you think.” He mutters, more to himself. But his eyes never leave my bruning red ones. It’s odd in of itself. Everything about this human being is odd..

What if he’s not.

A human being, I mean.

I speak to Pac and Pan through mind, travelling the message through their Protecter bonds.

It’s possible. Pac answers first.

What would it make him if he’s not from Madneko or Plasmatros? Pan answers a few moments later. I table our mind conversation and focus on Strange again.

“Please, Don’t stop discussing dinner plans on my account.” He holds up his hands as if he didn’t mean to interrupt, before crossing his arms against his chest and smiling.

A fucking smile.

“Who are you?” I ask,

“What are you?” I confirm, sounding almost breathless. He knew what I was when I stepped into this room, he knew of my family, my problem, he knew of my communication with Pac and Pan through Protection Bonds.

“I am Doctor Stephen Strange. As for what I am, I’d say a bit hungry at the moment.” Stephen smiles my way, as if somehow finding this all amusing. I creek my neck, suck in a breath, and exhale as I return back to my red-haired human.

“If you’ll excuse me.” He crosses his hands, summons a sparking portal, and walks through it. I watch as the sparks fly, closing behind him as a mark burns away on the floor.

Fucking Bastard.

#marvel #fanfic #masterlist #oneshot #fluff #smut

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slittingrewinding · 2 years

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rereelingmachine · 2 years

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petitelepus · 3 years

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How would tfp ratchet, knockout, breakdown and mtmte cygate react if they got their human friend/crush so embarrassed to the point of her suddenly turning into a cat, only a kiss of true love can bring her back but they don’t know that

TRANSFORMERS PRIME

Ratchet

- Miko is teasing you for having a crush on someone in the base, but you try to deny it to the point that embarrassment takes over and with a loud POOF, you turn into a Norwegian Forest Cat.

- Everyone is shocked and Ratchet and the rest of the Autobots wouldn't believe what they saw if they hadn't seen it happen themselves

- While kids are petting you, Ratchet curses and tries to find a solution to your situation with medical knowledge, but no matter what he tries, they don't work or make any sense.

- You can't go home as a cat so you stay in the base while other bots take Miko, Raf, and Jack home, you're left in the base with Ratchet and Optimus.

- After hours of trying to find a reasonable explanation for your situation, Ratchet grumpily apologizes to you. If he was any good as a doctor, he should know how to cure you.

- "Primus, you might stay as a cat forever...! And I wouldn't be able to tell you just how I felt..."

- You meow and jump on him and peck your crush on the lips with the tip of your nose and- POOF! You are turned back to human!

- Ratchet quickly catches you before you can fall and you smile shyly at him. "So? Are you going to tell me how you feel?"

- "You fragger...! Scaring me like that...!" He grumbles but he leans close in and pecks the top of your head.

Knock Out & Breakdown

- "You look good today." Knock Out purrs as he looks you up and down. You blink, not sure what he means as his grin widens. "Almost good enough to eat~"

- "Don't tease them." Breakdown said as he stepped to you two and tried to get his Conjunx to give you some space, but the damage was done.

- There is a soft POOF, and next thing they know, there is a sleek black cat there where you were.

- "What in the name of AllSpark!?" Knock Out looks around, half expecting you to jump out from some hiding spot, but you don't reply to his calls. The cat sure does though.

- "Aww, isn't it the cutest?" Breakdown asks as he picks you up and gently pets you and you meow and purr contently.

- "They couldn't have just disappeared!" Knock Out exclaims and you meow as you reach your paw towards the red Con and he steps back immediately. "NO, I don't want scratch marks on my paint job or cat fur inside me!"

- You meow more and jump on Breakdown's huge chest and run to his face and gave him a soft lick. The huge Con chuckled, but then there was that POOF and suddenly you were lying on your stomach in front of his face.

- "Well, look who the cat dragged in!" Breakdown laughed and you blushed as he helped you down on the table.

- "Thank you Breakdown." You smiled, but you did shoot Knock Out a weak glare. "Glad I could trust someone to take care of me."

- "Darling, you know I didn't mean anything bad!" Knock Out cried out, "I just had to keep myself safe. You understand, don't you?"

- You rolled your eyes. Sure he did.

TRANSFORMERS MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE

Cyclonus & Tailgate

- You're enjoying your drink with Rewind, Chromedome, Cyclonus, and Tailgate, but your attention was on the violet con and white minibot.

- You chuckle to a joke Tailgate made when suddenly Rewind pats your shoulder and you glance at him. "What is it?"

- "You like them, don't you?" The minibot asks quietly and you blush as you quickly glance at the two lovers opposite of you but the damage is done and you're embarrassed beyond- POOF!

- The whole table turns to look at you and on your spot, there is an American Curl with its famous curly ears. You blink and Tailgate squeals so hard that nearly the whole bar heard him.

- "What is this cute creature?"

- "Looks like a cat." The violet mech said and his partner looked at him, "It has your horns Cyclonus!"

- "Those are ears."

- You meow and walk up to Tailgate who couldn't help himself and picked you up. You were just that cute.

- "You're so cute it almost hurts!" Tailgate cheered as he raised you to his face and snuggled his mouthguard against your soft fur.

- POOF. You return back to normal in Tailgate's hands and all four Autobots look at you with their eyes or visors bright. You smiled awkwardly and blushed. "You got to be kidding me...!"

- "Don't you mean kitten?" Chromedome asks and POOF!

#creativesoultheskeletongirl #mtmte #transformers mtmte #more than meets the eye #tfp #transformers prime #ratchet #knock out #knockout #breakdown #cyclonus #tailgate #rewind #chromedome #reader #reader insert #ENJOY!#cat #cats

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goldeneyedgirl · 2 years

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TwiFicMas Day 10: Memento Vivere

The sequel to Memento Mori is not dead, I just made it really silly and I need to fix it <3 I will finish it, I stg.

I have written some Memento Vivere previously for context (you can find it here), and is a sequel/another possibility of Memento Mori

Have a great day <3

Background: Alice has arrived in Forks to live with her father and stepmother after a stint at a mental hospital for her visions. Alice's mother and sister no longer speak to her, and her father and stepmother neglect her. Alice is hugely depressed and isolated and has lived with the vision of dying in the rainy forest of a national park. Dr Cullen is Forks Hospital's stand-in shrink as the previous one died of old age and probably the only person Alice has a conversation with.

I see Dr Cullen the next day, embarrassed by the slush I walk into his pristine office, though he tells me not to worry. I shrug out of my coat, like I always do, and freeze when I hear Dr Cullen hiss.

“What on earth happened, Alice?” he asks, and I can hear the anger in his voice.

The sleeves of my cotton top only come to my elbows, and it is evident to see the angry bruises on my left arm, mottled purple and blue.

“Oh, I slipped on the ice,” I said. “I’m not used to these winters.” I move gingerly to my seat; my leg is even sorer than my arm.

Dr Cullen relaxes, and I realize that – as a doctor – he probably saw a lot of injuries like mine, inflicted by other people.

“That looks rather nasty,” Dr Cullen stands, and I tense. I am not used to him standing over me, and he is taller than I imagine him. “May I see?”

I hold out my arm, and he is gentle as he tests my movement. It is still a little swollen, even I can see that.

“And your leg, too?” Dr Cullen asks, and I look away as I nod. “Hope up onto the table.”

I can’t meet his eyes as I tug off my boots and unbutton my jeans; his office isn’t so warm that I’m not cold. I refuse to take off my top, and carefully climb onto the table. My leg looks horrible – giant purple blobs swallow up most of my thigh, and disappear into my underpants. I’d had a terrible night’s sleep thanks to the pain.

“Hmm.” Dr Cullen has gloves on now, as he manipulates my leg. I bite my lip when he touches the bruise. “I need to see how far up the bruising goes, I’m afraid.”

I nod, without making eye-contact, and I have to admit he is professional, as he folds my top up, and quickly checks under the band of my underwear to see the mess of my hip.

“Okay, you can get dressed now, Mary-Alice,” he says; the whole ordeal has only taken a minute or two, but it feels like I’ve wasted most of my appointment. “I’m nearly certain that you’ve just given yourself some impressive bruises, but I am going to send you for an x-ray - just in case. Some Tylenol, and ice, will help with the pain and the swelling.”

“Thank you,” my voice is steady, but I want to go home. I hate being undressed in front of doctors. I hate being examined. I hate the feeling of rubber gloves on my skin, of feeling like a marionette that is being restrung.

Dr Cullen looks sympathetically at me, as I struggle back into my jeans and boots.

“You’ve lost some more weight,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to,” I whisper back at him. I sit in my usual chair, tucking my hands under my thighs. I am cold again, and I wish I had my sweater.

“I know. But you’ve hit a critical junction, so I’m going to insist on a more aggressive plan,” Dr Cullen is keeping his distance, behind his desk.

I nod along as he outlines how I am supposed to fix the fact I am too thin. Too small. He gives me some papers to read, and a letter for the school to excuse me from gym class. He even lets me go early, with a sad look on his face as I grab my bag and jacket and don’t even both to put them on as I slip out of his office.

The nurses and staff watch me leave, and I feel like every single one of them knows that Dr Cullen has seen me in my underwear. All for a stupid bruise.

I want to rewind the day so that I am still happy, and not running back to my bedroom like a frightened child. So that things aren’t weird and I still trust Dr Cullen.

Jasper kisses me for the first time on February 11th. We are sitting outside during lunch; it is a bright day, but overcast, sadly. I miss sunshine. I am cross-legged on the bench, with my notebook opened to my Spanish homework, Jasper next to me.

We are talking, joking, and suddenly he is leaning forward, his lips against mine.

The Cullen house was huge and beautiful; all white and grey. Dad and Calista’s house was the same colours, but worlds’ apart. This was elegant and classic, and probably cost a lot instead of the over-the-top look my father and Calista had chosen.

The kitchen was warm and inviting, and Mrs Cullen stood at the island, cooking. The smell of cinnamon and butter flavored the air, and I wanted to sink into it and live there forever.

And then I noticed Rosalie and Emmett in there with her – Emmett was pressing cookie cutters into dough with the concentration of someone defusing a bomb; Rosalie was pacing.

But I was distracted when Mrs Cullen looked up and beamed at me.

“Jasper! And you must be Alice,” she hurried over, and clasped one of my hands in both of hers. She was young, but Jasper had said that. She was only just out of college when Jasper and Rosalie lost their parents. I didn’t know how and when Edward and Emmett fit into the family, but it wasn’t my place to ask questions.

Mrs Cullen was lovely, with the same dark golden eyes as Jasper. On paper, she didn’t seem special – lightest brown-blonde hair, medium height, her green and white retro dress – but in person, she was so, so beautiful. And not just herself but her aura; it was warm and affectionate and wonderful. I wanted to leech her kindness away from her and wrap myself up in it. I felt bad that I looked so bad, in a worn sweater and jeans.

“Please, come in and sit down,” Mrs Cullen said, pulling into the kitchen.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I managed, as I was shown a seat at the island, Mrs Cullen quickly clearing a spot on the island for me.

“Now, what can I get you?” Mrs Cullen said, almost eagerly. “These three will have to wait, since we’re having dinner with one of his colleagues tonight and we’re having a roast, so I don’t want you all filling up now.”

Emmett groaned, and I giggled, though Rosalie scoffed, and stormed through the room.

“I’m fine, Mrs Cullen, thank you,” I said.

“I promised her a hot chocolate,” Jasper offered, leaning on the island next to me.

“I think we can manage that,” Mrs Cullen said. “Maybe a sandwich? I can’t have you going home hungry. And please call me Esme.”

Esme brought out shiny copper pans, and heated milk and melted chocolate with the precision of a surgeon. Emmett had abandoned his cookie project and vanished after Rosalie.

The sandwich was the most delicious thing I had ever put into my mouth – the bread thick yet soft, with cheese, tomatoes, lettuce… so good. I wanted to shovel it into my mouth without chewing, but I wanted to nibble it, savour it for days.

The hot chocolate, however, was not. It looked perfect, with marshmallows, and the right consistency, but Esme had used unsweetened cocoa, and I nearly choked.

Esme and Jasper froze, as I grabbed my napkin.

“Is everything okay?” Esme managed.

“Um, I think you used unsweetened cocoa. Could I please get some sugar?” I said meekly.

Jasper chuckled, and Esme smiled nervously, and grabbed a canister off the counter. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, my head has been in the clouds today.”

Jasper’s room wasn’t what I expected, but then, it was exactly him. Glossy wooden floors were covered with worn rugs. The walls were white, with charcoal drapes. A matching charcoal couch ran along one wall, with bookshelves built into the wall above. A wide desk was arranged in front of a huge window, with three huge flat-screen monitors arranged on it.

But it was the books that were most impressive. Bookshelves were built into almost every area of wall space, and most of them were overflowing with books, though one shelf was arranged perfectly, complete with various ornaments. One wall was a cluster of photographs, and a couple of flyers for obscure-looking bands. The room was finished with a well-loved guitar.

“There’s no bed,” I said suddenly, eying the couch.

Jasper started. “Oh, Emmett and I were being idiots, and we broke the frame. The couch is more comfortable to sleep on, anyway.”

The heel of my boot finally breaks.

That’s all it is. A broken shoe.

I’m walking down the staircase at the Cullens, carrying my lemonade glass and a dirty plate. I have my bookbag over one shoulder, and Jasper is about to drive me home. I can see Bella and Edward at the piano, and Rosalie with Emmett watching television.

And my heel snaps, and I fall down half a staircase. I smack my forehead on the rails, and end up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, in pain. My head hurts, my foot hurts, and my arm is wet.

The glass or china has cut my forearm; it’s not particularly deep, about three inches long. I’ve had worse; it’s more the shock.

“I’m okay,” I look up, and everyone is staring at me. “What’s wrong?”

It’s Edward Cullen who stands up slowly, who takes control. Jasper is still standing on the stairs, but he has a weird look on his face. All of the Cullens do.

“Bella, go into the study.” Edward’s voice is even, no-nonsense, and Bella slips from the room like a ghost. “Jasper, go upstairs.”

Jasper shoots him a murderous look, and I’m afraid. I don’t understand what’s going on. I shove myself into a sitting position against the wall, and Edward hisses at me.

“Don’t move. Just… do not move.”

I look behind me to see Mrs Cullen watching me from the dining room with a very cruel look on her face.

I’m going to be sick.

“Rosalie, get Emmett out of here, and call Carlisle.” Edward keeps giving orders, moving slowly towards me. “Esme, I need you to go back into the kitchen.”

The Cullens all move stiffly, as if they don’t want to do what Edward says. I don’t understand why they are doing what Edward says. I don’t understand what is happening. Edward helps me up roughly, keeping me an arm’s length away, as he hurries me deeper into the house.

Bella gags a little when I walk in, clutching my arm. I feel like I’m in a bad dream as Edward shuts the door firmly behind me, and motions for me to take a seat, as he throws open the windows.

“You’ll be fine,” Edward says to me rudely. “It’s not that bad.”

I don’t say a word, just pluck a piece of broken glass out of my arm with a hiss, and then tug my sleeve over it. Bella and Edward say nothing to me; they just stand together near the window, with their backs to me.

My boot is totally destroyed; I’m going to have to suck it up and beg for a new pair from Dad and Calista.

Dr Cullen arrives quickly, considering he came from the hospital, and he looks agitated, as he sets down his bag.

“Hello Mary-Alice.” His smile is strained, and I manage a nod back, but focus on the blood stain on my sleeve. It’s shaped like Florida.

“She fell down the stairs carrying a glass,” Edward says sternly, as if I am a foolish child. I want to throw my shoe at him, to show him the twisted mess of glue and cheap nails that were holding it together. That it was an accident. “She hit her head, cut her arm, and hurt her left foot, I believe.”

“Hopefully nothing too serious,” Dr Cullen says, but not to me. I am invisible here, as Dr Cullen pulls out gauze, tape, and antiseptic. He and Edward speak in low voices as he bandages my arm, and my poor, swollen ankle.

“There, nothing to be worried about,” he finally looks at me, but the smile is still forced. “You’ll need to keep your arm dry and clean, and ice your ankle when you get home.”

I nod, as he hands me a stack of gauze and a bottle of antiseptic.

“You’ll get a nasty bruise from the bump on the head, but nothing serious. If you are still getting headaches in a few days, come and see me.”

“I’ll drive her home,” Edward says, from where he is glowering in the corner.

“Bella too, please Edward,” Dr Cullen says, throwing the medical waste into the trash.

I follow Edward and Bella out of Dr Cullen’s study, and back through the house. None of the others have come out; Jasper doesn’t come to see me off.

My book bag has been neatly left by the front door, though, which says more to me than anything else could.

I’m not welcome here anymore.

#twilight books #twilight movies #twilight fan fiction #alice cullen #jasper hale #my fic: memento vivere #someone remind me to do a tag page for my fics next year #angst #romance #AU #human/vampire #alice is sad #and then almost happy

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rewindermachine · 5 years

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floralguccistyles · 3 years

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nine: aliens, bigfoot, and nerds, oh my!

“Have you been eating, sweetheart? You’ve lost at least ten pounds since the last time I’ve seen you.”

My father rolled his eyes from over my mother’s shoulder as she pulled me into a big hug. Every time I saw my mother, she mentioned how skinny I was getting even though I was sure I had gained about five pounds since the last time I’d seen her. It was usually an excuse to come into my flat and make us a giant dinner, which I would never complain about. Her arms squeezed my shoulders as she released me, pulling back so she could look at my face.

“Pretty as ever, sweetheart.”

“Eva, can I please hug our daughter hello now?”

I laughed as my mother made a big deal of moving out of the way so my father could hug me. His embrace was familiar, his arms the ones I ran to when the bullying in secondary school got too bad to handle on my own. He had wiped my tears away and said “you’re one of a kind, mija, and they’re jealous of that.”

“Was the drive okay?” I asked them, pulling away from my father after he planted a quick kiss on my hairline. Their suitcases (the ones they had owned when they came to England) were decorated with vibrant stickers from Cuba. They were worn now, scratched at the corners, but their color had miraculously remained.

“It was wonderful. It’s been so long since we’ve been to London, and now look at us! We’re here to celebrate our daughter’s book!”

Inviting them to the book release party had been a last minute decision, but I found myself happy that I had. Though I knew they were proud of me, I also knew that they didn’t really understand a lot of the fandom stuff I had discussed in several chapters. They would read it to support me, of that I was sure, but I was uncertain about if they’d actually enjoy it.

“You probably won’t understand a lot of it, Mum.”

“You don’t know that. Your father and I have been watching that Doctor show...what’s it called, Roberto?”

“I don’t know, Eva. I fall asleep when it’s on.”

“It’s called Doctor Who, Mum,” I snorted out, biting back a bigger laugh.

“Whatever it’s called, we’ve been watching it. And we were alive when Star Wars came out, you know. I was there for the Darth Vader reveal and everything. Mamá took me to the theater and got me an extra large popcorn.”

I liked hearing little stories like that. It was almost too easy to picture my mum, sitting there in a little theater in Cuba when the true identity of Darth Vader was revealed. My grandmother had probably grasped her chest with her hand and shouted “¡Dios mío!” at the top of her lungs. If I eventually travelled to Cuba, if the movie theater was still there, I decided I would visit it.

The three of us piled into the Uber I had called for us, which wasn’t hard because their suitcases were so small. On the way to my flat, my parents regaled stories about their drive to London and how she was upset my dad wouldn’t let her listen to Dua Lipa on the radio because “that Dua Lipa girl was very talented, Petra.” We made it back to my flat with only three arguments broken out between them.

“You guys are staying in my room and I’m camping out on the couch,” I informed them, helping my mum to carry her suitcase in. “Sorry it’s so cramped. It’s perfect for me, but unfortunately having guests is a little difficult.”

“We could have stayed in a hotel, baby,” My father commented.

“I’m not going to make my parents pay for a hotel room. I can sleep on the couch for one night and survive, Dad.” They had been to my flat before, but I still showed them where the extra towels and soap was in the bathroom. “The party’s at seven tonight, and dinner will be served. I’ve got to go a little earlier, but I’m just a text away if you need anything.”

“My baby,” my mum said, her eyes glistening, “we are so proud of you!”

I found myself enveloped in another tight hug, this time joined by my father. The lump in my throat grew when I thought of their praise. Too often, I had taken their support for granted. “I love you both.”

“We love you, mija.”

A sudden knock on my door had us pulling apart. “Were you expecting anyone, baby?” my mum asked, going to the front foyer and looking out the foggy windows. “It’s a boy, Roberto!”

“What?”

I moved around my frozen parents to answer the door, swinging it open and greeting Harry Styles’s smiling face with a blank look. I had no idea what Harry was doing here, but he really had very impeccable timing.

And by impeccable, I meant shit.

“Morning! I was thinking about grabbing something to eat at a little bistro around here and thought I’d come by and see what you were up to today. Wanna join?”

Speech wouldn’t come. I felt the stares of my parents behind me, still hidden from Harry’s view, and how they would squeal and gush when they found out I was on somewhat good terms with Harry Styles, something they’d been trying to get me to do for years. “Harry—”

“Harry?” My mum’s voice asked loudly from where she was standing. She marched up behind me and swung the door open a little wider so he could clearly see her. “Oh my goodness! Harry Styles! Petra, it’s Harry Styles!”

“I know who he is, Mum,” I whispered in an embarrassed voice.

“Last time I saw you, you were about four feet tall,” My mother cooed, stepping forward. Before Harry could react, she had him in a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his body. “Petra didn’t tell me you were friends again!”

I bit down the urge to argue that we were never friends, but my mother wouldn’t listen. She never had when it had come to my bullies at school. “Just give them a chance to change, Petra,” she had told me when I would bury my face in her shoulder and cry that I didn’t want to go to school.

“Hi, Mrs. Gallego. I didn’t know you guys were coming to town. Sorry for intruding on family day. I was just coming down to this part of town to grab some lunch and wanted to see if Petra could come. No worries, though. I don’t want to take away—”

“Nonsense!” My father cut in, reaching out his hand for Harry to shake. “Nice to see you again, Harry. Feel free to take Petra to lunch. We’re probably going to nap a little before her release party tonight. The drive was long.”

“Release party?” Harry asked, glancing back and forth between my parents and me.

I awkwardly scratched the side of my head. “My, er, book is being released tonight.”

“What? Petra, that’s amazing!” His smile seemed genuine enough, but all I wanted was to shut the door and rewind the last five minutes. I never would have answered the door in front of my parents if I had known it was going to be Harry on the other side. “If you, um, want to go...it can be a celebratory lunch. And obviously you all are invited, Mr. and Mrs. Gallego.”

“Oh, Harry, we’d love to come, wouldn’t we, Petra?”

My eyes moved between Harry’s cautiously hopeful face and my parents, who were already grabbing my mum’s purse and getting ready to leave. In their eyes, I had already agreed. “Sure,” I said uncomfortably. “That’s fine. Let me just call an Uber for us and we’ll follow behind you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Petra. We can call an Uber and you can go with Harry.”

There was no arguing with Eva Gallego when she set her mind to something, so I just nodded. “Okay. Er...I guess that settles that.”

We awkwardly stood around in my foyer until my mum cleared her throat. “Petra, darling, aren’t you going to invite Harry in while we wait for our ride?”

“Right. Come on in, Harry.”

His gaze locked on mine, expression questioning. I knew he felt the tension that was creeping up inside me with having him in the same room as my parents, but I didn’t want to get into it. Not when I knew it would ruin my night. The morning had already started off with self-destructive behavior as I looked back at some of the tweets about my day out with Harry from February. I had never been as aware of my appearance as I was in that moment, scrolling through absolute strangers saying the worst things. I had an extra appointment with Doctor Thorne this week to make up for it.

“How long have you and Petra been hanging out again?” My mum asked as we all sat in my living room.

“A couple of months. She contacted me in January about being on the show. It was an amazing experience.”

“I just love listening to Petra’s podcast,” my father said happily, reaching over and patting my knee. “I have no clue what she’s talking about half the time, but she sounds damn smart saying it.”

“She’s incredibly smart,” Harry agreed, and I ignored the urge to bang my head on the coffee table. I didn’t want him agreeing with my parents about my intelligence. We weren’t really that good of friends, if I even considered us friends yet. I had admitted to myself that Harry had definitely changed for the better, but that didn’t mean the past hurt went away.

“I almost forgot, mija! Your grandma sent you Materva. She said you wrote her an email about it.”

Normally, I would be jumping for joy. The first and only time my grandmother had visited from Cuba, she had brought Materva with her and it had become my favorite drink. With Harry here, however, I felt uncomfortable and self-conscious. I squirmed a little in my seat.

“That was nice of her. I’ll email her and tell her thank you. Want me to put it in the fridge?”

My father went off to my room to grab the Materva and Harry raised a quizzical eyebrow. “What is Moterva?”

“Materva,” my mum corrected with a smile. “It’s a soda.”

“And it’s delicious. Remind Petra to let you try some later,” my father said, returning with a set of six cans. “She sent us more, but we’re selfish and kept the rest of it at home for us.”

He stocked them in my fridge and pulled out his phone when he heard the small chime. “Our Uber is here. We’ll see you two at the restaurant.”

I made sure they made it into their car okay before I hesitantly pulled open the door of Harry’s. We both got ourselves situated, clicking our seatbelts into place.

He didn’t start the car.

“I didn’t know your parents would be here,” he said, offering me an apologetic smile. “I could tell it...it made you uncomfortable.”

“I’m just not used to this.” I gestured back and forth between us with my hand. “And my parents...they mean well, but when I was in secondary school and coming home to them crying, they told me to try and make friends with you guys. They didn’t really understand how hard that would have been. They think I should let bygones be bygones and I want to...but I don’t know if I can just yet.”

“I completely understand.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Can I ask you something a little personal?”

“I don’t know if I’ll answer.” Honesty seemed to be the best approach with Harry.

“Why do you seem so embarrassed when your Cuban heritage is mentioned around me? When your dad brought out the soda, it looks like you were going to stab yourself with a fork.”

Go back to where you came from, Gallego. Nathan Penrose’s voice filtered through my thoughts. To them, I wasn’t English enough for England. But it was almost worse to feel that I wasn’t Cuban enough for Cuba.

“It’s about what that prick Nathan said when we were younger, right?” he asked softly, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel remembering it. “I so wish I would have punched him in the face.”

“It’s not just Nathan. That’s a big part of it, but it’s not just you I feel uncomfortable talking about it with.”

“Okay. You don’t have to talk about it, but...just know you can, if you ever want to. I’m serious about trying to be friends, Petra.”

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, with some pop song playing lowly over the speakers. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, per se, but it made me wriggle around in my seat and wish I was sitting at the restaurant already. I wasn’t used to silences with Harry not trying to fill the space with his random thoughts. I appreciated that he was letting me just sit and absorb the moments, but it was also unnerving.

We pulled up to the little bistro right after my parents, who had already decided to get a table for us. Harry walked around to the other side of his car and opened the door for me, holding out his hand to help me out. My parents waved us over from their table outside, pulling out our chairs. I was seated between Harry and my mum, across from my father. It meant that I caught the sly looks they gave me whenever Harry was engrossed with his menu.

“What’s good here, Harry?” My mum asked after a couple moments of looking.

“I like their vegan buffalo wings and macaroni.”

“You’re vegan?” I asked in surprise, raising a brow at him.

“No, but I eat plant based meat when I can. And most places make their vegan wings with cauliflower, which hurts my stomach. This place makes them with mushrooms.”

“Petra loves mushrooms. You should try them, sweetheart.”

I set my menu down without really looking at it. “I’m getting a bagel and their cucumber and edamame salad.” Since both of my parents loved cucumbers, I knew I would be sharing at least a few bites with them. It was normal for us to sample each other’s meals. “What are you getting, Mum?”

“Maybe the chicken breast and mashed potato lunch special. Your father, predictable as ever, is getting a burger.”

My dad shrugged. “Don’t fix what isn’t broken.”

The waitress eyed Harry a little longer than necessary when she came to take our orders, but eventually left. I could tell he would be getting asked to take a picture before he left, despite how unprofessional that was. Then I thought about if it had been Hayden Christensen if I had been the waitress and understood what the fuss was about.

“So, Harry,” my mum said after a long sip of her lemonade, which I knew meant she was going to ask a lot of questions, “what have you been doing now that you’re solo? I ran into your Mum when she was visiting home for a couple of weeks and she showed me one of your music videos. You’re very talented!”

I’d never seen Harry Styles blush, but I noticed a faint twinge of pink on his cheeks. “Thank you, Mrs. Gallego. I’m writing some more music right now, but I’m not sure when the next album will be out.”

“We just love listening to your first album. We listen to your group stuff too,” Mum commented, tapping her nails on her wrist. “Petra has a wonderful singing voice, did you know?”

Before Harry could question the statement, my father and I both snorted. “No, she doesn’t, Eva. No offense, mija.”

“None taken. I sound like a dying animal. Mum, I hate to tell you this, but the last time I sang, you were very intoxicated and would have thought our next door neighbor’s cat was Shakira.”

“Petra’s good at other things, though. She’s awesome on Alien Crossing. And I’m sure her book is going to be fantastic,” Harry supplied helpfully.

“Has she invited you to the party tonight? I know her other friends are coming. Jeremiah, Veronica, and Melody?”

I shifted in my seat. Harry looked pained, like he didn’t want to say anything that would hurt my mum’s feelings. I hadn’t invited him to the book release party because this book was mine, something untainted by the memories of secondary school. Talking about my nerd stuff on AC was one thing, but publishing them on paper was another. “Mum…” I trailed off.

“He could come with us! Are you going to buy a copy of the book, Harry?”

“Mum, he’s not going to buy—”

“Yeah, actually. I preordered it on my phone. And I was going to buy a hard copy, as well.”

Harry’s words had my mouth closing in surprise. I blinked over at him, at his secretive little smile when he raised his soda up to his lips and took a sip. “You preordered it?” I whispered, my throat thick with some emotion I couldn’t identify. “You’re not gonna understand it all.”

“Well, I’ll understand the Lord of the Rings bits now. And anything unfamiliar I come across, I’ll just make a note to watch or read it.”

This action felt more significant than anything that had happened in our hesitant friendship thus far. Even though he had introduced me to John Williams and had brought me a plant, this was the thing that felt essential. I felt like the Grinch in that moment, my heart growing a size bigger and allowing room for hesitant optimism to sink in. Maybe Harry Styles and I actually could be friends.

Which was why when my mum suggested him coming another time, I shyly looked over at him and said, “Of course you can come if you’d like. I’ll text you the details.”

My publisher had rented out the Aldgate Library at my college for the release.

It felt weird stepping back into the library, stumbling a little in my black heels when I accidentally grazed a rock on the sidewalk right outside. The last time I had been here, I had my hair in a messy ponytail and was in tears at midnight trying to study for my last finals of my university career. Now, I was publishing a book. It felt surreal.

I smoothed down the skirt of my red dress, trying my best not to chew on my lip. Veronica had meticulously spread some kind of red lip stain on it that was supposed to be long lasting, but I didn’t trust it’s longevity against my teeth nervously biting at it. Plus, I knew pictures would be taken tonight and the last thing I needed was to have lipstick on my teeth.

“Petra!” My publisher said, walking out of Aldgate in a tailored suit. She was also wearing a little badge that had “Aimee Metcalfe, Dorrance Publishing” printed right underneath a fantastic photo of her. I found myself jealous. My ID photos never came out that great. “What’re you doing standing outside? Come in, you numpty!”

I gave Aimee a quick salute and followed her inside, trying to keep up with her. As familiar as she was walking in heels, it was a new skill set to me entirely. She led me through the front of Aldgate and back into one of the large common area study rooms, which had been transformed for the launch. There was a giant banner hung up on the far left side, with #Aliens #Bigfoot #Nerds printed over it in sparkling letters. In front of the banner was a table decorated with cupcakes and cake pops, each the same color blue as my book cover, which featured a picture of myself that I hated but Aimee had insisted the readers would love. Jeremiah and Zach were shoving their faces with one of the cake pops, while Veronica looked on in disgust. Bailey was chatting with Melody by the photo booth that Aimee had suggested, which when printed, would frame the pictures in the same hashtags the banner provided.

My parents were crying in the corner of the room.

I went to them first, holding out my arms. My mum immediately let out a wail, pulling me into an embrace. “This is supposed to be a happy day, Mum.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. You have worked so hard. And you look beautiful.” She pulled back to examine my dress and makeup, pressing her hand to her mouth when she did. “Such a beautiful young woman, inside and out. Oh, how did we get so lucky, Roberto?”

My dad smiled at me. “Proud doesn’t even cover it, mija. Your mum has demanded she be first in the book signing line.”

“Oh, I did not, Roberto!”

“Petra,” Aimee said, interrupting our conversation. She introduced herself to my parents and then led me over to the podium. “You’re going to do the reading, and then Terri and I put together a fun little trivia game about some of the fandoms in the book. Whoever wins that will get a free signed copy. Afterwards, you’re on book signing duty. We’ve got about twelve hundred Sharpies lined up for you. Questions?”

My head was spinning with all the information, but I found myself growing excited. This was something I had put blood, sweat, and tears into. And I was finally getting to share it with the people who meant the most to me. “None so far. I’ll flag you down if any come up.”

“Good. Oh,” she said, reaching into her bag, “keep this close. This is your best friend when you’re up there reading and when you’re signing books.”

She handed me a water bottle with room temperature water, which was apparently better for the vocal cords. Then she was pushing me towards the podium and I hid the water bottle on the hidden shelf on my side. My book was sitting there, my own face staring back at me.

When I looked into the sea of people, I saw my friends giving me encouraging looks and my parents crying happily, my mother now with a tissue from the dessert bar that she pressed underneath her eyes every five seconds. The rest of the people in the room were people who were avid listeners of AC, the ones who sent in messages for me to read. I noticed Daisy Callahan sitting at one of the tables, shooting looks over to Jeremiah and smiling like a smitten school girl. I made a mental note to ask Jeremiah if they were officially together after the reading.

And then, there was Harry Styles.

It looked like he had just come in, dressed in a nice suit in a dark red color. I was so used to seeing him in bright neons when he was dressed up that the muted burgundy almost faded into the background. However, he was still Harry Styles and it was hard for Harry to do anything but stand out. He was fidgeting with his suit jacket, messing around with the collar of it before he looked up and caught my eye.

I wondered what he saw, looking at me standing up on the podium. I knew what my friends and family saw; they saw me finally getting one of my big wishes to come true. But what did Harry Styles, who already got his dream, see?

I didn’t have time to think about it, because Aimee was gesturing for me to start the reading. She was helping usher people to their seats, and I felt the weight of more than just Harry’s eyes on me.

“Good evening everyone,” I said into the small microphone attached in front of me. “Thank you all for coming. This is the culmination of blood, sweat, tears, and other bodily substances I won’t mention. I can’t wait to share it with you. This reading comes from chapter seven, in which I discuss why Game of Thrones actually became so popular and how I think the last season is going to go, amongst other things.”

Jeremiah let out an embarrassing whooping sound and I rolled my eyes.

Then, I read.

If I had expected to be embarrassed standing there in front of a crowd, reading the words I had written, I was wrong. Instead of feeling down, like I had so many times before when I discussed the things I loved, I felt powerful. Because yeah, Nathan Penrose could be a racist asshole all he wanted, and his friends could drop all my books in the puddle. But I had done it. I had written my book, I had a kickass podcast that introduced me to my best friends, and I was filled with an uncharacteristic pride.

So I went along with it. It’s what Doctor Thorne would have wanted. But more importantly, it was what I wanted.

Aimee had been a lifesaver with the water, as I found myself finishing up my excerpt and drinking nearly all of it during the applause. “Thank you,” I said after I had capped the bottle and set it back where I had it hidden. “Thank you to Aimee Metcalfe, my knight in shining armor through this process. Thank you to Terri Patterson, who spent night and day editing. Thank you to everyone at Dorrance Publishing who put up with trying to get copyright issues taken care of because I wrote about some of the biggest money shark companies in here,” I paused for the light laughter that trickled through the room. “But most importantly, thank you to my friends and family and everyone who supported me through this. It means the world. I hope you enjoy the rest of the book.”

There was a small table with stacks and stacks of my book. I didn’t think I’d ever seen that many pictures of me in one place before, including my parents’ house. Aimee started up the trivia game, and I heard the first question asked about what the aliens that destroyed New York in the first Avengers movie was called while I took my seat at the table.

“The book is awesome.” I heard from my left. I turned, seeing Harry standing beside the table, leaning against a pillar. “I could tell you love it when you were reading.”

“It’s a little overwhelming to see it all finished,” I said, awkwardly gesturing to the pile of books in front of me.

“Would you ever want to write fiction?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. For now, no. I might change my mind later.” He nodded, fixing his suit jacket again like he had been earlier. “I didn’t expect you to come,” I said after a few moments.

His eyes crinkled and his head tilted to the side, like he was confused. “Why? You invited me and this is important to you. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“It wasn’t hard...with the paps or anything?”

His jaw set and told me everything I needed to know. “I’ve got someone on security here tonight, just in case. I’m not gonna let anything ruin your big night, including paps. There was someone who recognized my car, but I don’t think anyone else is coming.” He unclenched his jaw and looked down at me. A softer look took over his face. “You look gorgeous. That color reminds me of the dress you wore to prom.”

I blinked. “You didn’t talk to me at prom.”

In fact, I had spent most of prom standing in the corner, nursing the lemonade I had gotten myself. Nathan Penrose had spiked it, but not before I had gotten myself a cup. I had saved up all my money for the pretty red spaghetti strap dress, but looking back it was a useless purchase. I didn’t have fun and was home drinking tea and watching Legally Blonde by midnight.

Harry gave me a small smile. “No, but I saw you. I remembered thinking you looked so beautiful and how I was an idiot for how I’d treated you.”

“You did not,” I argued, rolling my eyes at his statement. “You were thinking of your audition and what song you were going to sing. I wasn’t even a blip on your radar.”

He shrugged, bringing his own water up to his lips. “Think what you think. Doesn’t change the fact you looked gorgeous— then and now.”

I fiddled with one of the books in front of me. I didn’t know how to take his compliment. It was something I’d always been bad at, but especially when it came to Harry. Part of me wanted so badly to believe he was telling the truth; he had seen me at prom and thought I looked pretty and was looking at me now and seeing the same thing. The other part of me was hardened and cold, telling myself not to fall for it.

In the end I just decided to ignore his comment. If I didn’t acknowledge it, then I didn’t have to dissect my feelings on it.

“I’ve got to take off. I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I’m flying out to Los Angeles tonight for some meetings. But I wanted to be here.” He held up one of my books and set it in front of me. “Last time I asked, you said you wouldn’t sign it.”

“Wipe that cheeky grin off your face. Of course I’ll sign it.” He slipped a fifty pound note onto the table (more than double what he actually had to pay for the book) and opened up the title page.

The blank page stared at me. There were so many things I could write. Aimee advised me just to sign my name, but that felt too impersonal for Harry. Uncapping the pen, I held down the page with my other hand to keep it steady.

Live long and prosper, my young padawan.

Petra Gallego

He grinned when I handed it back to him. “I’m reading this on my flight to LA.”

“Might put you to sleep.”

“I don’t think it could,” he argued, tucking it under his arm. “Think I could...um...text you while I’m there?”

“I can’t control what you do or don’t do, Harry.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to give you the choice.”

The choice to talk to him. It was something I didn’t have in secondary school, but I realized a small part of me acknowledged that it was something I didn’t have now, either. There was something in me that wanted to see where this friendship with Harry went and if we could make it work.

“Yeah, Harry. You can text me when you’re in LA.”

Which was how I woke up the next morning, with a message reading: Made it to LA. Didn’t stop reading once. And despite what you may think, I didn’t fall asleep either.

A/N: Here is the next installment of AC! I hope you guys liked reading as much as I loved writing. I’m just so happy for Petra!

#ac #1dff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ou

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trixicbean · 3 years

Text

little miss perfect

read on ao3

Kara was singing because of course, she was. Lena could hear her from outside the apartment. She smiled and pushed the door open to see Kara writing and singing as she did. Lena didn’t recognise the song though. She listened carefully to the lyrics.

I was adopted when I was two

My parents spoiled me rotten

Relatable. She scoffed at her thought, going over and pressing a kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek before she continued with her after work routine as Kara carried on singing.

Often I ask myself, "What did I do?"

To get as far as I've gotten

She almost laughed to herself. She had heard about ten seconds of the song and it was basically describing her. It was ten seconds. She shouldn’t assume.

A pretty girl walks by my locker

My heart gives a flutter

But I don't dare utter a word

'Cause that would be absurd behaviour

For little miss perfect

Maybe, she should assume. It made Lena think of Andrea and Veronica and Madison and Emily and Alyssa and Kayla and Chloe and Olivia. Okay, now she was just thinking of the school’s cheerleading squad, and maybe some of the girls’ lacrosse team. She wondered what Mackenzie was doing now, for a second, before she shook all her thoughts away and went to change out of her uncomfortable work clothing.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na

No, I can't risk falling off my throne

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

Lena listened to Kara as she kept singing. A song can’t just dictate her whole overarching thought process from the ages of eleven to sixteen, when she finally got out of the hell that was high school, that was just weird and mean. This song was weird.

Love is something I don't even know

Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward, straight girl

Lena almost choked. This was too accurate. It shouldn’t be so accurate. In her defence, she had the straight hair and straight A’s (with a 4.0 GPA) and her life was supposedly straight forward and she had to be straight at the time. Her mother needed her to be little miss perfect. Get valedictorian, get a university degree, get a doctorate, work at LuthorCorp, find a guy, get married, have kids. Straight path, easy. She had one job, be the top of everything. Just keep winning. She couldn’t win as a lesbian. So yeah, she denied it. That was normal. The song didn’t need to call her out so much.

Little miss perfect

That's me

One night, my friend stayed over

We laughed, and drink and order

Lex got her the alcohol and who doesn’t order pizza at a sleepover. It was normal to have sleepovers with your friends. Okay, Lena didn’t have them often and she had begged Lillian for weeks to have one.

Something about her drew me in

She was her best friend. Everyone is just close to their best friend at the time. This song was too close to her life.

What? It's totally platonic

Just because her current thought process is following her old one doesn’t mean anything. Mackenzie never liked her like that. She told Lena that to be exact. Lena sighed and pulled on Kara’s hoodie and went back to the kitchen to make some food. Kara was still intently focused on the article, her headphones in. The song went on.

That night was so exciting

Her smirks were so enticing

Hours speed by like seconds

It was the first sleepover she was allowed. Of course, it was exciting. And Mackenzie just had a signature smirk, everyone in the school knew about it. She would talk about it with Andrea all the time. Then again, Andrea was entirely heterosexual either. Also the understatement of the year considering that time in Italy where Andrea had her head…

“Fuck,” Lena muttered as the pan she was holding clattered to the floor.

“Lee,” Kara stopped singing and pulled her headphones out, speeding over so she was next to her, “Are you okay?” she asked, panicked, picking up the pan.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lena swallowed, trying to act casual and non-chalant, “Go back to your writing, I don’t want you to lose your flow,” Lena pressed a quick kiss to Kara’s lips before shooing her off.

“Okay,” Kara dragged out the final syllable, walking slowly back to the table and her laptop, eyeing Lena suspiciously. Kara didn’t start singing again for a couple of seconds, it sounded like she’d skipped part of the song but the lyrics just became even more of a personal attack on Lena’s useless lesbianism.

She takes a sip, I bite my lip

Lip biting is considered by some to be a nervous tick. Her mother was scary, she was constantly nervous in the mansion.

She tells a joke, I nearly choke

Lena was drinking at the time. It is common knowledge when you try to laugh and drink at the same time you choke and she was drunk. Drunk Lena is giggly as Kara liked to regularly remind her.

She braids my hair, I sit there

Blacking out for the first time

That never happened, at least that never happened.

She did brush her hair though. No. Lena pushed the thought away. She wasn’t going to relate to a song about repressed useless lesbianism. That would make Alex too right and Alex being right was not fun.

Next thing I know, I lose control

I finally kiss her, but oh no

Shit. Now, that did happen. In her defence. She had no defence. She leaned against the countertop and let her head fall into her hands and groaned. Why? Why? Why? It was like all the high school regrets of fifteen-year-old Lena flooding back.

I see a face in my window

It was Lex at the door.

Then my brain starts to go

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na

No, you can't risk falling off your throne

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

Love is something you don't even know

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na

You can't risk falling off your throne

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

Love

You don't even know

Her thought process was not that. It was:

No. No. No. That kiss was good. No. No. No. Lillian would kill her. No. No. No. She was going to be kicked out. No. No. No. Rumours would destroy her bid for student council head. No. Was she gay? No. She had a boyfriend. She was meant to win prom King and Queen with him. Lillian wanted her to. Fuck. Fuck.

That was her thought process. Not completely accurate.

Why did Lena even care? It was just a song albeit an annoyingly accurate song and her brain worked on overdrive all the time. She was going to have to think about this.

Rewind, induce amnesia

Deny the truth, that's easier

In all fairness, she couldn’t be a lesbian then. It would destroy her. She didn’t deny it. She just made an executive decision to be a lesbian later. Maybe, she didn’t let herself be a lesbian till a lot later than fifteen-year-old Lena intended. Maybe, she did actually. Andrea. That definitely passed the point of close friends after Italy.

You're just confused, believe her

She said Lena was drunk and disorientated, actually.

When she says there's nothing there

It's never worth it

When you're little miss perfect

It wasn’t worth it.

Kara stopped singing and she looked like she was about to start the next one. Lena needed to know more.

“Darling?” she called out quietly, knowing how much her girlfriend hates loud noise.

“Yes,” Kara spun around with a huge smile.

“What’s that song you just sang called?” she asked as she stopped chopping the carrots.

“Little Miss Perfect,” Kara shrugged, “Why?”.

“No reason,” Lena smiled, she was failing at this be casual thing.

“Are you okay?” Kara asked suspiciously.

“Completely fine,” Lena shrugged as she started chopping the carrots again. She paused for a second, “How do you feel about me telling Lillian that we’re dating?”. Kara almost fell out of her chair.

“What?” she asked.

“Well, apparently on this Earth she’s not in prison yet and I want to tell her we’re dating,”.

“She’s working with Lex,” Kara laughed.

“It may induce a heart attack,” Lena shrugged.

“Okay,” Kara laughed, “Whatever you want,”.

“Okay,” Lena breathed and an idea popped into her head. “What if when you save me from the liar in the grand master plan you still hate, you kiss me. I think that may be more effective in inducing the heart attack,”.

“That plan isn’t going ahead!” Kara argued, almost offended by Lena’s suggestion it was. Lena gave her the look of disbelief, one raised eyebrow and her head turned slightly to the side.

“I was going to kiss you anyway,” Kara mumbled and Lena found herself bursting out in laughter.

“I would have been mad if you didn’t,” she smiled, “You would have had to make it up to me with even more kisses,”.

There was a gust of wind and Kara was behind her, “How many?” was whispered into her ear and Lena dropped the knife she was holding as Kara’s arm wrapped around her waist and a kiss was placed just under her ear.

“I’d have to see,” Lena shrugged and Kara spun her around so she faced her girlfriend.

“Tell me when I achieve enough kisses,” Kara smiled, lifting Lena onto the counter.

“I’m not mad at you,” Lena whispered against her lips.

Kara pouted and pulled away with a grumpy look, “Let me kiss you,” she complained.

“If I really have to,” Lena teased with a huge smile, wrapping her legs around Kara’s waist to pull her closer and meeting her lips in a kiss.

#kara danvers #lena luthor #lena x kara #kara x lena #supercorp #supercorp fic #supergirl #katie mcgrath #kashy mcgra #melissa benoist #sgcw #fanfic #avery writes

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thanksjro · 3 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #28- I Sure Hope Y’all Like Megatron

“Dark Cybertron” is finally over! Woohoo!

Who’s ready for a return to hijinks and mild peril?

I know this guy is!

Hold on a second-

We start our foray into Season 2 of MTMTE with a little meta-humor-

-and then it’s right into the swing of things, as Brainstorm uses the thin, fragile wine glass of faction-based morality to hold his personal need to make instruments of violence. Nautica disapproves, but then why wouldn’t she? She’s not been steeped in the militant ideologies of the Autobots for millions of years.

It’s six months after the convoluted events of “Dark Cybertron”, and our beloved ship, the Lost Light, is back on track for the Knight Quest. Nautica’s joined the crew, which is neat, but there are far more interesting things going on.

Like Rung actually doing his fucking job for once.

Wow, look at that little creamsicle man go.

It would seem that in the last half-year (by Earth standards) Megatron’s somehow gotten himself into the esteemed position of Captain of the Lost Light. This likely means that Rodimus has been defeated in battle, or perhaps fucked off on yet another space yacht to run away from his responsibilities. I suppose the narrative will have to fill us in on just what exactly happened.

Or, at least, I hope it does. Wouldn’t be a terribly good story if I had to guess on how exactly this dude’s in charge of a whole-ass Autobot crew.

Yes, yes, I know he switched sides, but goddammit, it takes a little more than saying sorry and changing your wardrobe to excuse the murder of half of NYC.

I mean, we can do both. Both is an option. I’ll break out The Communist Manifesto right now, let’s fuckin’ gooooooooo-

Six months prior to Megatron’s therapy appointment, Rodimus is ready to high-tail it off of Cybertron yet again. This is because, as established in previous posts, Cybertron kinda sucks butt. He bursts into the meeting Optimus Prime called- even though he’s really not leader of anything anymore, Starscream is- bids everyone farewell, and is about to run back out of the room when he’s stopped.

Turns out that the populace of Cybertron want Megatron to stand trial. That makes sense, given what all he’s done. Of course, the Autobot pals we’ve got in the room want to skip due process and go straight to the part where Megatron pays through the nose for the last four million years.

Which doesn’t feel terribly heroic or good guy-ish, but I think by this point you’ve probably caught on to the fact that everyone in IDW Transformers is morally gray at BEST.

Because Megatron’s had a rough time the last few years, in relation to his bodily integrity, spark extraction- that thing that High Command lied about in relation to Overlord- isn’t an option. It would just kill him dead.

Uh, excuse me? Optimus Prime, sir? Monsieur Premier?

Guess Optimus hasn’t been keeping up with exRiD.

Anyway, yeah, since Tyrest fucked off in “The Sound of Breaking Glass” and also tried to commit a genocide, we’re gonna need someone to cast judgement.

Course, a military trial isn’t exactly ideal, but as long as it’s open to the public, it should be fine.

Probably.

Anyway, Prowl’s also going to help. Ultra Magnus has been assigned the task of representing Megatron in court, a job which he’s positively delighted to have, if his face is any indication.

The gang breaks for lunch, and Rodimus and Optimus touch base on how the Knight Quest is going.

Because Rodimus’ half of the Matrix had the map for finding the Knights of Cybertron in it, they’re gonna have to go with Plan B.

Oh fuck yes, I love Plan B!

Unfortunately, finding the ideal romantic partner for all Cybertronians is going to have to wait until after the trial, because Optimus really wants Rodimus here for this. Though perhaps there’s a way to make things move a little faster…

Back in the present, Megatron’s had just about enough of Rung being a psychiatry joke, and is about to walk out of his appointment. Ravage is here, which is neat. Rung asks Megatron about the three most important people in his life, and how he met them. One of these people is, funnily enough, Rung.

Rung, if you’ll recall, was thrown into Megatron and Impactor’s table at Maccadams waaaaaay back in The Transformers #22, the first issue of the IDW run that Roberts wrote solo. It would seem that getting arrested and subjected to police brutality ruined his once-idealistic worldview. This is just a lightning-round recap of the events of the “Chaos Theory” storyline.

Being reminded of how hard he got dunked on makes Rung break out his copy of Megatron’s autobiography, Towards Peace. Of course, Megatron has to be “that guy”, and makes it out to be far more than it actually is. My dude, you used your writing to tell all your proto-Decepticon buddies to go beat up Whirl in prison. Let’s not make things sound more grandiose than they are.

Anyway, it turns out that Rung is actually just as much a nerd as he looks, as he reveals that he’s in possession of one of the only few copies of the original version of Towards Peace. And then he takes off his glasses and the fans go bonkers, even though he’s just got that Milne Same-Face going on, just like everyone else.

There you are, you animals.

Rung discusses Revisionism, I’m reminded that the first publication of Eugenesis had a dedication to Roberts’ son of all people, and we get the question of who Terminus is to Megatron.

But alas! The X-ray vision’s been turned on, and it’s time to see… nude robots? An in-depth anatomy lesson?

Robots are confusing sometimes. Anyways, major props to Milne for drawing all that detail. Dude does the technical stuff with a ferocity that must be awe-inspiring to behold.

Megatron’s decided that it’s time for lunch, and then he’s going to do captain stuff.

Because he’s captain of the Lost Light.

I’m convinced Rodimus is dead. That’s the only way this is happening.

Six months ago, Swerve was being awful Swerve-like, with his new buddy Crosscut- guess he finally learned the guy’s name- and Riptide, who we’ll get to a little later on. These three wonderful lads are holding a sort of “crew try-outs”, and it looks like the requirements needed for entry on Megatron’s Lost Light are stiff.

Still, maybe our new friend Nautica will make the cut.

Oh, you are simply delightful!

Despite Nautica having interest in nearly every topic in the universe, on top of having impeccable taste in booze, she just misses the cut. It’s at this point that Nightbeat bursts into the room to stop this farce from going any further. The fact that nobody mentioned anything prior to this is surprising, given that portmanteaus don’t really seem the type of thing Ultra Magnus would approve of.

Back six months ago, we see what Optimus Prime’s super great idea was to expedite the judicial process- Chromedome. It’s always Chromedome. He’s gonna do that thing he promised his late husband he’d stop doing. I suppose it’s a good thing- for Rewind, anyway- that Megatron is wholly against the idea of having his memories torn out of his head. Guess we’re gonna have to do the trial the normal, non brain-pokey way.

Optimus leaves the cell, because I suppose he’s remembered that there’s a conflict of interests here, but Rodimus stays behind to let Megatron know he deserves everything that’s coming his way.

Then Megatron breaks out the puzzle-box from Hellraiser.

In the present, Chromedome isn’t so much spiraling in his depression as he is circling the drain. Nightbeat doesn’t give a shit about that though- he’s more concerned with the fact that one of the numbers on the door to Chromedome’s room is missing. But I’m sure it’s fine.

It’s fiiiiiiiiiiine.

While Nightbeat’s busy being insensitive to his fellow man’s distress, Megatron’s arrived to his room to find his door’s been vandalized by a bunch of idiots who must have just discovered what a thesaurus is. Then he gets shot in the fucking hand with an arrow.

As you do.

Whirl’s gotten ahold of a bow, and he fully intends to use it for Megatron-directed violence. And also his fists. His very pointy fists. He punches Megatron through the fucking floor into the fuel furnace, and they fall what’s probably a good 200 feet to the ground below. Whirl yells about evening the score between the two of them, and then knees Megatron in the dick.

Turns out, Megatron remembers Whirl even better than originally thought, having gone so far as to order his forces to not kill Whirl, because, in a way, he was grateful for the lesson he learned back before the war in Rodion.

Oh man, I hope Rung’s somehow listening in on this. Like, eavesdropping is obviously bad medicine, but we’ve already established that he sucks as a professional, and he needs what few advantages he can get.

Whirl, enraged by the implication that he’s been fighting fixed battles for the last four million years, punches Megatron in the gut… and his arm gets swallowed up by an errant portal leftover from all of Shockwave’s tampering. Since you can’t really fight with only one arm, Megatron wanders off to do captainy things.

Walking back the timeline slightly, we revisit Megatron leaving Rung’s office, and the idea of personal revisionism, the conversation becoming parallel with the strange happenings going on within the ship, as Rewind’s final message is altered so as not to end with “I love you” but instead a blood-curdling scream. Chromedome is, understandably, upset by this turn of events.

Over with Whirl, it’s revealed that the little fight we saw was intentionally set up. For what purpose, or by whom, is left a mystery.

Please see a doctor.

One last flashback to the trial, as Prowl lists off everything that’s standing in the way of our Sympathetic Megatron Redemption Arc.

Good fuckin’ luck, James.

Back in the present, Megatron’s slapped a bandaid on the hole in his torso, as he checks to see what’s happening on the bridge. It would appear there’s a coffin floating around in space.

Pretty fucked up.

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #world shut your mouth #issue 28 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #comic script writing

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