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irlcaosdemon · 2 years

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In response to tiktok user: thegirlwithglasses.0 posing the question: Why doesn't Colin want to be with Penelope yet, especially given their shared interests? The show does not answer this explicitly (yet) but there is a subtext to why. My understanding of it is informed by the show as is, but I should say also RMB inherently. They were clearly using the book as source material for their themes when starting to incorporate them into S2. Colin is currently happy being friends with Penelope, but does not yet want to be with her romantically simply because both he and Penelope are not where they need to be as individuals in order for him to fall in love with her completely and consciously. They see and understand each other better than most do, which is why they are great friends, but still only at a 90%. That last 10% is the most crucial. The reason they are not at a 100, I believe, has to do with self-knowledge, confidence, and ultimately authenticity, which I will elaborate on below with some character psycho-analysis.

Colin has a natural confidence as he is very outgoing and charismatic, but he doesn’t know who he is and what he values above all. What he does know and/or cannot acknowledge is what he is insecure about. Travel writing for Colin is something I am hoping and assuming they keep from the book. He thought he cared about travel, geography, culture etc. most, but it would turn out to be what he has to say about it all and the joy in finding just the right words to describe something he sees/experiences so someone else can experience that as well. Penelope as LW is distinguished as a gossip columnist not just for what she writes, but how she writes it too. She can appreciate good writing and vivid descriptions. For his family though, they don't find it as interesting and/or can't relate; that leads to his insecurity and hinders his confidence/self-discovery more. Colin still can’t appreciate how much writing meant to him let alone Penelope-- the person he is writing to.

He is confident when things come more easily to him: being social, funny, charming, etc. He gets social validation from that as well. In S1 he tries to be a flirt, fall in "love" and get married, because he thinks that alone will get him what he wants. He is a romantic and overeager, but Marina "takes him seriously" so she seems the perfect fit for him. Meanwhile, Pen is like... what about your other interests? I thought you wanted to travel first? Then in S2, that wasn't "enough" for him nor for anyone else to take him seriously. Penelope is a source of validation for what he truly values, but she alone cannot outweigh family and societal approval. Yet at the same time just being a flirt/charmer is not enough for him because he is not being taken seriously. I believe this is why he's the least rakish of the 3 brothers.

He comes home, stops flirting with women (mostly...), and starts trying typical bachelor gentleman pursuits like business investments and drinking a lot, both things he is not a natural at and which I think he did not find fulfilling. What he did find fulfilling was being a hero by using his geographical knowledge to outsmart a conman and help Penelope. Unfortunately, it wasn't fulfilling enough for him to self-actualize and stop overly seeking peer validation. He also gets to be his more "geeky" (to quote Luke Newton) self around Sir Phillip which is nice to see until Marina pointedly does not find it amusing or validate him. Again, someone else does not get him, his travel stories, interests, or puns. (I'm convinced though if Penelope were there she not only would have laughed at the olive joke, but would've kept the puns rolling and Marina would be even more 👀 wow Colin you're blind).

Colin's biggest problem is not having a full understanding of which aspects of his personality and interests he values the most--potentially in spite of what he thinks the rest of the ton values. Only then will he discover a sense of purpose. After that, he will find the self-confidence to go after it. He already has a solid base of confidence, honor, and bravery within him, he just needs one or two key ingredients to motivate him. The S2 finale exemplifies his potential (not counting his last scene because obviously he still needs to grow).

Narratively, Penelope and Colin are both mirrors and foils for each other (lol mirror I know but I'm dead serious about this). The best fictional relationships have this dynamic in my opinion. People say that "opposites attract," but that's only on the surface. In reality, couples work when they complement each other more like yin and yang, which is the dynamic Colin and Penelope very obviously have.

By all outward impressions, Colin is the extrovert. He is outgoing, popular, and charming. Penelope is much more introverted. She is shy, socially awkward in casual conversation, and "unfashionable" (out of her control though at first). At their cores, they are both witty, inciteful, and kind. They have similar interests, senses of humor, and a talented way with words. They also value being selflessly honorable and truthful. In contrast to Colin being charming enough to make everyone like him or laugh when he tells a joke, Penelope has a tendency to bluntly tell it like it is which many people find off-putting. Colin, however, finds this refreshing and amusing. He is similarly observant and appreciates her honesty. Additionally, I get the sense that another reason people don't bother getting to know Penelope could also have to do with what they know about her ridiculous family, so they underestimate her. People do not "take her seriously." She has the same unmet need as Colin, but for opposite reasons.

To further explore relevant narrative arcs, Penelope is at a point where her strengths and weaknesses are opposite to Colin's. She knows who she is and what she wants out of life (hence why she knows she likes Colin romantically), but she lacks the confidence to publicly be her authentic self. Lady Whistledown makes this obvious to us, but it's deeper than that because there is also the speech she gives about purpose. I suspect she has a much better idea of her purpose than she lets on. She needs to realize she already is internally brave and witty, but what she doesn't have yet is a true, equal partner, the familial love she craves, nor the freedom to do what she wants or be herself.

Her obstacles are more external in contrast to Colin, because of her mother, the clothes she has to wear, and not having due appreciation from society. Whistledown is Penelope's way of expressing herself and starting to build up her confidence. There needs to be a few more external sources of validation for Penelope to help encourage her own inner confidence. Gradually, she will start to reveal more of herself to others and stick up for herself.

When Penelope experiences rejection and overhears what Colin says about her, it is awful and definitely was wrong of him, but ultimately will work out for the best in the long run. She will stop seeing Colin as the perfect version of him she had in her head. Once she is effectively hopeless that anything will ever change between her and Colin, she will undoubtedly feel less pressure to be perfect around him or what she thinks is "perfect" to him. She might be less "sweet" and self-effacing. It is too easy I think for the audience to forget that we the audience see so much more of Penelope in different contexts. We see her be cunning and business savvy. We hear her sassy retorts to her family or under her breath at balls. Colin has only gotten glimpses of that. In S2, he was only beginning to realize she had bigger dreams than she let on, so he definitely wouldn't expect her to already be out there actively going after them.

It's incredible to see so many side characters go out in search of their purpose in the wrong places or chasing the wrong opportunities, meanwhile Penelope knows what she wants all season long and is actively working to get what she wants. Benedict does this as well, but at the first big blow to his confidence he packs up and leaves art school. In contrast, Penelope loses everything but doesn't silently disappear with her tail between her legs. She recognizes that she has nothing left to lose at this point and no one (or so she thinks) is going to swoop in to save her except herself. I mean damn, that is some leading lady behavior.

Penelope's desire for freedom and self-expression will probably manifest in her gaining enough to confidence to hopefully stand up to her mother even if it's small. I anticipate she will push for more independence especially regarding her wardrobe early on in S3 if not in the time before. Dressing in a way that is more authentic to who she is will lend itself to having a bit more confidence. Most likely Lady Danbury will acknowledge her strengths and not underestimate her. I hope Pen has a similar relationship to Kate as well and I think they'll have the time/space to do that in the show. Given her fallout with Eloise is different from the book, I can't say how that will likely play out pacing wise. However, this will present a very good opportunity for Pen to stand up for herself, properly communicate, and expect Eloise to also be a better friend.

Another opportunity would be if they introduce a new character to act as a suitor for Penelope. They don't have to imo, but it wouldn't hurt especially since I doubt they would make him a serious contender in a proper love triangle. Plus, the opportunity is there if S3 wants to parallel the Odyssey a little more, because when the hero Odysseus finally arrives home to his wife Penelope (!) there are many suitors trying to marry her while she stays loyal to him in continuing to wait until he finally arrives and defeats them. There are so many possibilities for more Odyssey references, AHH!!!

Regardless, if they do all the little things to have Penelope grow her confidence and start showing everyone her whole self, then Colin would see it as well. He needs to see that last 10% of who she is and her confidence in being who she is, because confidence is sexy and attractive.

Seeing Pen be more confident and authentic will give Colin a big push he needs. She spent a lot of time in S1 and even more in S2, being Colin's "muse." She kindly encourages him to go after his dreams. In S3, she will undoubtedly have a much more blunt and LW-esque attitude about him still complaining he doesn't have a purpose and/or not going after what he wants. She'll start to actually challenge him in a way that isn't overly soft on his feelings. Additionally, he will see Pen leading by example. There are at least two great moments from the book where Pen almost holds back and stays quiet, before she finds a little bit more confidence to say out loud exactly what she thinks to Lady Danbury and to Cressida. She surprises herself and Colin who is very impressed.

Initially Colin is jealous over Pen's LW success, but ultimately it comes down to him wanting the same kind of self-assured confidence she has. She stands up for herself and defends her writing. She is proud of her work and draws the line at ever letting Cressida take the credit. This is an immense display of her confidence and pride in her work, despite what others think. Even if the person she is in love with does not (she thinks) appreciate her writing, she doesn't care; she is proud anyway. That kind of self-confidence is exactly what Colin is lacking. Truly recognizing that is what forces Colin to finally realize he has been holding himself back. He finally sees her as a whole person more clearly than ever and THAT is the moment he realizes he is in love with her.

Colin and Penelope in S2 both lack the confidence and/or self-understanding to be their most authentic selves, albeit in different ways. In S3, Colin will be traveling again so my best guess is that he will try writing to Penelope again. She won't write back as much if at all. Without that he would start to a) miss her and b) seek the fulfillment of expressing himself by writing a journal (at least I SO hope he does!) then he will start to finally c) rely on himself to develop an identity and a confidence in that identity regardless of total external validation.

I imagine there will be some drama when he finally gets back, (assuming he learns what she overhears pretty early on but who knows) then they'll resume their friendship only Penelope will be a little "different" this time and more herself.

There might be other aspects I've missed, but by more fully analyzing their individual characters setting up S3, this is essentially what I've come away with. It is very frustrating that Colin is so blind (if I really stretch it there are more odyssey parallels here but I digress), but it is consistent and in line with their development and arc so far. The girl he thinks he knows is his good friend Pen, but when they are both ready he will see who Penelope really is. She fell first, but he's about to fall harder :')

#polin #bridgerton #romancing mister bridgerton #long post #this is soooo long oh my god #so sorry but i am incapable of doing anything in moderation #that adhd hyperfixation time - all or nothing babyyyy!

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harfanfare · 3 years

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Pomegranate Rule || Idia Shroud x Reader

Obligatory pair work with someone you like very much on a school project and have a chance to fall for each other more? - cliché.

The difference with Idia was that he kidnapped his project partner.

Idia leaned out from behind the column, whispering words of encouragement and summoning up the plan of this meeting he compiled at yesterday’s evening. He practised this conversation all night in front of the mirror, but as soon as he gained confidence, he forgot the text and desperately searched for the next line in the script.

There was a faint blush on his pale cheeks. Not from the sun, not from the fatigue, but nervousness. He hadn't left his room for someone in a long time, and what he was about to do required from him new social skills...

…to ask you to be his project partner, that’s it.

Ortho stood right next to Idia, leaning out from behind his older brother's silhouette and shifting his gaze once at the courtyard, once at him.

Idia cuffed his fingers on the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

Ortho's presence helped him a lot to keep on the promise he made to himself: today he will actually talk to you not on the phone, but face-to-face and suggest that you could do Sir Crewel’s project together.

He knew that you didn’t have a pair, since Grim went off where he could bug Adeuce combo, and even if he didn’t, you two would be counted as one student. But, to at least make some progress, you were picking up leaves you suspected to be just right for the experiment.

With each bush, you were getting closer and closer to the column behind which Idia was hiding, and he knew that if he won’t hurry with his proposal, someone will enter the square, dispatch the last pieces of Idia's courage and disperse you, and take you away.

For example someone like Epel and Jack, who have just entered the courtyard using the entrance on the opposite side.

This coincidence seemed to Idia to be as unfortunate as if all the forces of the world wanted to stop him from what he was planning and yet to validate his theory that it was not worth ever leave his room. On the other hand, since he was already here, and it took him a good few dozen attempts to motivate himself, he could not lose this unstarted game.

Idia, in an act of desperation, rushed towards you, hoping that the first-graders would not notice you.

You both keel over into the bushes as Jack and Epel headed towards you.

"Jack Howl, Epel Felmier!" Ortho greeted them, distracting all possible attention from the bushes that had just been approached by two people, both unaware of what was going on. "How is your project going? What topic did you choose?”

"Ortho-kun! What are you doing here?” Epel replied, coming closer to the young Shroud.

As Ortho distracted them with a conversation, Idia had an intimidating thought: what would happen if they saw your two in the bushes? He was madly blushing at the scenarios that created in his head. He put his hand on your lips—he was afraid that you would say anything that would attract unwanted attention—he slipped with you through the empty corridors to the dorm of Ignihyde.

…He forgot to explain what he was doing, and it likely looked like him committing a crime, but nothing will happen if he explains everything in his room, right...?

You were able to ask Idia what was he doing, once he closed the doors. Till then, on every question you asked he hissed “Sheesh! Do you want us to be found?!” and “P-please! Let us get to headquarters where I will… explain the mission…”.

Soon enough, you found yourself in his room; electronics was the main source of light, and the screens glowed bright blue around them. Although you didn't see any exposed windows or lamps lit to illuminate the room, everything was clearly visible.

There was a mess there, a mixture of the cardboard disorder that prevails after moving a house and the chaos of a man whose constantly working on something, desk always cluttered with papers, pens and documents.

You were sure you would stand on some lost Lego block or pin if you put your foot behind the bed where Idia has set you down.

“So, Idia,” you started. “…What exactly I am doing in your room?”

"Uh, well...” he stuttered, trying to remember the speech from yesterday's practices. “I wish I would know what you're doing here... I mean- I know why I brought you here. I wanted to ask you something. Ask, yes.”

"Ask? About what?” you didn't mention that you can ask outside of your own room, and you wasn’t going to correct that.

Idia tried to explain the whole situation. He skipped the preparation process, his speeches and ideas, he didn’t even mention the project, so all he said was hard-to-understand, abstract justification from the current situation.

He said, at least, that he came up with the idea to take you somewhere further away, where there were no people, as first-grades entered the courtyard.

“So I'm here by accident?" you asked after listening to Idia, slightly cocking your head at the side. “I don't understand…”

“It was an accident. A bit,” he wanted to loudly groan at his helplessness but finally bit his tongue. “I didn't want you here. I mean, I wanted to, but I didn't plan on it. I mean- Aah, it’s so hard to explain!”

You waited in silence, only nodding, letting him take his time.

"Sorry, I just... I feel weird talking to you...” Idia admitted, lowering his head.

The definition of Idia’s "weirdness" was different from yours.

When you heard that he was calling you strange, you felt a pang in your heart. Really? After so many months of acquaintance and quite frequent texting on the phone, when finally there was one of those few moments when you could talk face-to-face, he says it's awkward?

The "weirdness" of that feeling in Idia was something he could not explain easily: the joy of talking to you, anxiety that he would say something wrong, an uncertainty that you would change your mind and stop talking to him, excitement because he knew how interesting person you are and the frustration for every accurate, teasing comment…

"Oh, I see," you tried not to sound depressing. "So let me leave.”

"No, wait, that's not what I meant..!”

Oh, no. Idia’ plan went downhill again.

Idia jumped to a drawer and started looking for something in it, digging through notebooks, cables and lost items.

“...Don't worry, Idia, we can end this conversation on the phone... or something.”

“No, no, no, wait, please!” discreetly took out a round metal box before he dashed to you, blocking the only way out, heavy equipment surrounding you that now seemed to be an impassable wall.

"Uh?"

He took the hard candy from the container he took from the shelf, though he did it so subtly, forcing himself to stare at you and keep your gaze from tearing away from him, so you couldn’t notice candy in his hand.

They were pomegranate drops that had been presented to him as a funny joke from a student who knew that a box, just like its contents, was enchanted by Vil's unique magic: whoever tasted them will not be able to move more than twenty meters from the place the fruit drop was eaten.

Haha, because you know, the members of Ignihyde don't go outside and won't even notice they were cursed.

Idia was sure that even Vil did not know that the candies had fallen into his hands.

"Huh? What are you-“

As soon as you opened your mouth, Idia pressed fruit drop up to your lips and covered them with his hand, in case you tried to spit it out. His movements became very mechanical and heavy, probably most of his muscles were strained. Because of that, you also couldn't push him away.

He only stepped out of your way you once swallowed the candy.

And so you were bound by a spell that you discovered the moment Idia let you towards the door. You stopped more than a meter from them, unable to even grasp the doorknob.

You swung your hand a few times as if not believing that none of your movements was moving you forward.

“Idia. I know we should talk, but by cutting me off from the door?”

Surprise with this solution, Idia's embarrassed smile, dripping sweat from the stress he felt, and a sudden dose of delicious sugar made you burst into laughter.

“This. Is. Great.” You accented each word, becoming more and more amused with each one as if you had just heard the best joke of the era. “Is it the fault of those drops?”

Idia, surprised by your reaction, finally relaxed. Your sudden, inexplicable outburst, hearty laugh calmed him down a lot. He even came to the conclusion that he really likes the way you laugh.

Ortho soon entered the room. You two shortened the story and explained that you probably have to stay here for the night.

"Oh, so nii-san finally asked you to do a project with him?"

“Project...?” you repeated. Then you turned your head to Idia and smirked at him. “So that was what it was for?”

He answered you with a shrug as if last day Idia didn’t have any thoughts screaming “Project!” and that followed by “[Name]!”.

However, Ortho said it for him.

Idia, of course, tried to stop him, but Ortho knew how much time his brother spent just planning to talk to you. A wave of shame flooded Idia as you listened to Ortho's words with interest. And maybe with a pinch of delight spilling over your heart—Idia did so much for you! You could feel the flush on your face and a smile spread across your lips every time you heard about Idia's efforts.

Soon after, after the excitement of this conversation had died down and you thanked Idia for his planning efforts, a package of cookies and biscuits was opened. You couldn't go to the cafeteria to eat anything, and even ordinary snacks from school vending machines taste better in pleasant company, right?

“We haven't had many opportunities to talk like that, have we?"

You took a sip of the warm tea Idia had made—it was incredibly bitter but chilled enough not to burn your tongue—and watched the screen where Idia was working.

He pushed himself away from writing some codes with some slowness, but he didn't look at you.

“You're right...”

After a pause, he started speaking again, this time in a whisper, but you heard him very clearly.

"I've always admired you, [Name]-shi..." he said, pressing his knees against his chest. “Talking to so many different people and solving their problems... I often find it tedious and self-righteous to interfere in the affairs of others, however…. Everything you do always ends well. I-I couldn't do that.”

“I should be saying it!” You said after a moment of silence as if you were processing words you completely didn't suspect him of. “You deal with electronics like a professional. Wait, you are the professional! How many programming languages have you already mastered? How many devices have you already created? You have a wonderful talent and... even your brother little is proof of it.”

You both looked at Ortho connected to specialized equipment. "CHARGING" was displayed on the screen, and by minutes the numbers were close to 100%.

Idia didn't smile at your words—instead he seemed incredibly focused. With each passing second, he had a more and more sincere expression of pleasant frustration, which was also reflected in his long hair behind which he tried to hide his face.

He couldn't even answer and just nodded.

"And... I have to confess to something," you began after another minute of pleasant silence, which you felt sorry to interrupt. "If you previously seemed quite average to me, maybe even a little pale-faced, now I know that you are special."

These words were already his limit. He couldn't take his eyes off you, forgot how to breathe, forgot how to blink, and his lungs refused to cooperate.

His heart crashed for good after your next words.

"So... if you please," you got up and smiled at him. “Idia Shroud, will you do me this honour and become my project partner?”

"The curse already faded.”

You could reach the door and go to the farthest corners of the room. You could leave.

The project has been completed. With the light help of Ortho, who also wanted to contribute to the project, by two in the morning, you finished doing experiments, writing out data, conclusions and completing them with graphic documentation.

And then you played games for the next three hours; each game was digital and very engaging—it wasn't for Ortho, you and Idia wouldn't fall asleep even for a minute. Even when you went to bed—and there was a whole five-minute debate about where you were going to sleep—you talked in whispers about everything and nothing until one of you fell asleep.

Even if the attachment to Vil's magic was gone, you couldn't deny that you became attached to a certain blue-haired boy who followed the last lines of your conclusions with his golden eyes.

It was really fun.

He and Ortho probably would have done this project faster, but the collaboration of the three—you, Ortho and Idia—seemed so pleasant that if he could, he would do it once again. Even if that meant another research about hyper-difficult projects Crewel liked to torture his students with.

"I will come again," you said as suddenly as if you were reading his mind. He flinched at those words, and your tone of voice changed to a more biting tone. “You don't have to kidnap me this time.”

"I d-didn't..." he tried to deny but was stuck on the next words. “...Really? Will you really come here?”

“Your charm bound me more than candy, I can promise you,” you gave him one last smile before you closed the door behind you and rushed through the corridor with a strange, blissful feeling, looking forward to your next project.

So did he.

#I liked writing it a lot hahah #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x reader #twst idia #twst idia shroud #twst idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland idia

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maracujatangerine · 2 years

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67. Happy New Year!

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe

It was midnight.

Lydia and Coriander stood in the middle of the street outside their house, looking up towards the sky. Overhead and around them the pop, bangs and howls from fireworks reached a crescendo. There were starbursts in violet and green, sizzling golden waterfalls, dahlias in silver and pink, some large effects, some small, some obscured by the cloud cover into strobing, coloured light in the distance.

A light snow was falling, feathering their upturned faces. Lydia looked up at Coriander, a light dusting of snowflakes in her eyelashes and over her brown hair.

“Happy New Year, Cory.” She said. “I am so very glad that you came into my life this year.”

“T-thank you, Miss Lydia. This pet is v-very happy that we met, too.”

“Happy New Year! Do you want some of the fizzy stuff?” Their neighbour, Mr. Richardson, had been standing with a gaggle of other neighbours. He came towards them, brandishing a green bottle and a stack of plastic champagne glasses under one arm.

“Yes please!” Lydia smiled. “Happy New Year! How’s Nessa doing?”

“She is fine, being an old lady she’s way too respectable to get fired up over something as simple as fireworks. But I will take her for a walk after all the noise has died down.” He held out the plastic glasses. “Here’s a glass for you, Cory.”

“T-thank you, Sir.”

“And here’s a glass for Lydia, could you hold a glass for me as well? Thankee.” He poured the light yellow, sparkling wine. “Now, cheers! Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year!” Lydia grinned as they toasted.

”H-happy New Year.” Coriander took a cautious sip of the sparkling wine. It tasted of memories and possibilities of joys to come.

The most amazing thing happened last night where I’m at. It started to snow exactly at midnight. Before that it was a very slight snowfall, but just at midnight, the snow started to fall in earnest and we got huge flakes. It was magical. Half an hour later, the snow stopped.

I am so very glad that you all came into my life this year, too! ❤️ I have really enjoyed being part of this community both as a reader and a writer. I am absolutely blown away at the great reception you’ve given me and my writing. 🙏 Also, I have wanted to get into regular writing practice for years, and being here helps with that.

This has been a year when I have been working a lot and it has also been another year with COVID-19 and all that that entails, so being part of this community has really been a fun and novel experience for me. Thank you all so very much and I am looking forward to another year with you all. 💕

Happy New Year, everyone! I wish you all the very best for 2022.

Tag list: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#pet whump #pet whumpee #conditioned whumpee #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #new year #happy new year #box boy #caretaker #rescue whump #recovery whump #hurt and comfort #h/c #thank you #lydia and coriander #writers on tumblr #writebrl #original writing

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hoodieofholland · 3 years

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Professor Tom x cheerleader reader ( part 2?)

- the reader goes and takes his exam, she decides to wear her uniform, she gets a good score on the test, and after class Tom gives her a reward

( sexual tension when he sees her in the uniform and then smut after class )

A/n: this was WILD to write, and i luv it. This is loooong, so prepare yourself!

Warnings: smut (+18, dni if you're a minor), oral (f rec), fingering (f rec), protected sex, little praise kink, little sir kink.

"Alright, people, we'll get started as soon as you're ready to take the test", Tom says as he prepares the amount of paper on his desk, flipping through them to make sure everything is set up for the first exam in the semester.

The students are taking their seats, a small crowd whispering and whimpering loudly as they nervously make their own preparation for the most feared day of the year.

Mr. Holland rests his arms, crossed over his chest, as he takes a look to the class before grabbing the papers, his eyes looking for a specific student on their own desire. He didn't want to even think about it, to make it more clear to himself, but he was looking for you. Miss y/n, his most brilliant student, always perfectly on time, was late today. He pondered about taking his time to give the exam, so he could give you a few more minutes to arrive, but he didn't want to be more unprofessional than he was already feeling like.

He sighed in frustration, but before he could start walking around the class to hand out the papers, the door cracked open and you walked in.

Tom's eyes flipped immediately at you, jaw tightening as soon as he looked at the way you were dressed to attend his test.

It wasn't exactly warm outside, but you were wearing your cheerleading outfit now, a tight short yellow skirt, an equally tight gym top and yellow socks that reached your knees, letting your thighs bare. It wasn't warm, yet you chose to wear the outfit that left little to imagination.

Tom's eyes widened, caught out of guard. You were naturally gorgeous, in your very formal and usual clothes, the ones you wore for classes, but right now... right now you were beyond anything he has seen in that classroom.

"Sorry, Mr. Holland", you smiled apologetically. However, there was a hint of a smirk on the corner of your lips, result of the joy you were feeling for your professor's reaction to your entrance. "I got lost on time"

Sure you could make the important test on time, but it wouldn't give you all the attention you wanted as soon as you stepped Mr. Holland's class. It took you the entire night to figure out that was what you wanted since you two changed words in his car, but when you finally chose to give it a try, you decided to wear that same outfit from practice, regard from the sweater you were wearing back then to protect you from the coldness. Now, you left your arms exposed, breasts beautifully hugged by the material of your top and even a small part of your stomach bare, since the skirt only covered to your waist.

Tom knew he should give you an advertence for being late, and he was sure that if it was any of his other students, he would have done it. But Tom also knew he treated you differently, and not only because you were his best student - also because he was attracted to you in many ways.

This is so wrong, he thought to himself, but couldn't help the words that was slipping out of his mouth.

"It's okay, Miss y/l/n. Take a seat, we're about to get started".

You do as you're told, taking the nearest seat to his desk, the one that usually people avoid to not get so close to the professor. The small crowd of girls that were always excited to watch Mr. Holland in his classes and always made sure to seat close to him, now were in the back, too scared of the exam to pay some attention to the hot man.

You were fine with it. After studying a whole night, you were confident you were going to do well.

Mr. Holland handed you the paper and couldn't help but exchange look with you. Your legs felt weak for a moment, staring into those beautiful bright brown eyes, but you regained some composure before concentrate on test again.

***

A week passed since your test, and Professor Holland was set to start his class sharply on time, as always. This time, you didn't wear your cheerleading clothes, but still got a bit more dressed up than necessary for class.

Mr. Holland saw the moment you crossed the door, a small smile covering your lips. He stared at it for good five seconds straight until you took your seat.

"Good morning, everyone!", he said, clearing his throat as he got up from his desk to start his lecture. "I already finished grading your tests, so I'm going to hand it to you with my notes by the end of this class".

You crossed one leg over another, too caught up on your thoughts about your professor to actually care about the class. You knew it was useless to struggle to pain any attention to what he was saying. Though his abilities speaking and explaining were undoubtedly amazing, Tom's charm was distracting itself, and even worse when he spent the whole morning eyeing you every now and then.

You weren't so convicted that there was something really happening there, but you couldn't help the excitement running through your veins each time he gave you a side look, as if he was trying to avoid it.

By the end of the class, you were packing your things, slowly, as you weren't excited at all to go to your next class. Most people did their way out of the classroom, only a few small groups being left. You've already received your test back, being extremely satisfied with your high score, though a lot of your classmates couldn't tell the same.

So when you got up from your seat and walked to the door's direction, you were surprised to hear Mr. Holland's voice.

"Miss y/l/n, can I please have a word with you about your test?"

You blink a few times, suddenly nervous with the subject. A lot of thoughts passed through your mind, asking yourself if maybe he made a mistake and your score wasn't that high after all. Maybe he thought that you cheated on the test, maybe-

"Miss y/l/n?"

Your heartbeat is fast by now, and you watch as the few students leave you behind with Mr. Holland facing you sternly.

You gulp. Damn, you think to yourself, he's going to warn me, I was staring at the man the whole fucking day. He's going to punish me for being such a-

"Yes, Mr. Holland", you walk to his desk, test on your hand, that is slightly shaky. Mr. Holland look at the paper and shows his hand so you could give it to him.

He's wearing his usual clothes - the only type of wearing you've ever seen him in - a black sweater, sometimes with a turtleneck, and some really nice trousers. Mr. Holland was always dressed up in a not very casual set of clothes, but you liked it. It matched his professional and intelligent look.

"What's the matter, Mr. Holland?", you can't help yourself from asking, nervously fidgeting with your fingers. "Is something wrong?"

He looked distracted for a moment, flipping through the papers, as his eyebrows lift an his eyes avert from your writing.

"No, no, Miss y/l/n. There's nothing wrong here", he smiled warmly at you, eyes bright as always.

You sigh in relief, but still don't get the point at why he called you after class. "So..."

"I was just going to congratulate you, for your grades. But I'm also really curious about how you deal with it all", he rests his index finger and thumb over his chin, the trace of his smile still there. "You know, cheerleading at day, brilliant student at night".

You take a few seconds to realise that was the casual tone he used with you in his car, while he drove you home. He was just being friendly, not professionally. He must have liked the talk you both had, and that caught you out of guard.

Because no matter the fact that you dressed up to his test to get his attention, no matter how much confidence you had walking in his class, right now, with his bright brown eyes staring at you, all you could feel was your knees going weak, your mouth slightly dry.

"Well, I got the best professor in the department, so... not so hard", you smile, tugging your hand on the strap of your backpack.

Mr. Holland chuckles and shakes his head, collecting the papers and handing it back to you.

"And how is the TA work going? Are you enjoying it?"

You bite your lip slightly. You wanted to tell the truth, that you were expecting to see him more while doing this, that it was one of the main reasons why you accepted the job, but you wouldn't dare to say it out loud.

"Yeah, it's great. Don't think being a professor is my thing, though, for all that matters. It's a valid experience", you shrug.

Tom shakes his head in agreement, and both of you fall silence, staring at each other. Your eyes slowly avert to his lips, his thin yet tempting lips. It's just a matter of seconds until he speaks again.

"So, you're free to go now. Don't want you to miss your next class", he says as he gets up from his seat to get his belongings together. You look at his hands working, the prominent vein on his arm showing, and gulp.

"Fuck, wish I could be dismissed from that one", you whimper without realising what you're saying. Mr. Holland looks at you with a cocked eyebrow.

"Watch your language, y/n, I'm still your professor", he says in a stern voice, but you can see the joy on his eyes. He's joking.

So you decide to play along.

Bitting your lips, you cross your arms over your chest, a sassy expression on your face.

"Then why are you calling me by my name, Mr. Holland?", you tease innocently, and he turns his head to look at you. Discreetly, his eyes go to your lips, the way your teeth are grazing over it, just like he wished he could do-

"Clever remark". He smirks. "But you've told me to, remember?"

"Right", you bounce back and forth on your feet. "Does it make us friends or something?"

Mr. Holland looks at you with a puzzled face, quite intrigued by your speech and how casual you sound about it.

"Well, that would not be very professional of me", he said, eyes not leaving your figure, slightly narrowed.

"But that's not something that would bother me, Mr. Holland", you smile. "And I'd never judge you anything but strictly professional, if that matters".

His smile widens. "Yeah, it does". Tom puts some papers inside of folders that he brought to the classroom. He paused, staring at the desk as if he was far in his thoughts. "Tell me, Y/N, is it really that weird if we get to like each other? I mean, more than a student gets to like her favorite professor?"

You heart loses a beat, not entirely prepared for the subject to switch so quickly.

"I don't- think so", you say as soon as you find your voice.

Tom's shoulder visibly relax. "Good. Cause I really like spending time with you".

He throws his bag's strap over his shoulder and look at you, who's standing a lot closer now.

"Can I ask you something?", you say, barely in an audible voice. Tom nods.

You can sense everything now - the heat radiating from his body, his not so regular breathing, the way he clench his hand around the strap of his bag as a reaction to your question. It's all just under your nose, waiting for his confirmation that what was going on between the two of you was real.

But maybe you didn't have to ask it. Maybe that's what would end up bringing you two to nothing but a blushing face. So you decide otherwise. You decide to take a step further and ignore the discomfort on your stomach that almost yells you to stop as an instinct. You swallow hard as you walk closer to Mr. Holland. He watches your every move cautiously, eyes travelling from your eyes to your hands and chest, and then your lips.

That's it, you tell yourself, he wants it too.

And as easy as it is for you to realise you had a big fucking crush over your English professor, you can see that he does like you too.

You drop your backpack slowly, his eyes never leaving your face. "If this is messed up, please tell me to stop", your voice is a whisper, but he can hear it, he can hear everything. He can hear your breathe coming harshly from your nose.

He hesitates, but at the end he knew he couldn't fight that anymore. Mr. Holland brings his hand to your waist and the other to cup your cheek. His bag is now on the floor, matching yours. There's a frown between his brows, deep enough to make it clear that he's going through an inner fight.

"That's okay", you say, looking directly into his eyes, a wave of confidence bringing the words freely through your lips. "I want it as much as you do".

Your faces get closer and closer, noses touching one another, and you start to close your eyes, too taken by the feeling of his touch.

"This is wrong", he whispers before swallowing.

You shakes your head negatively, inhaling the air that was filled with his scent. "No... just shut up and kiss me, Tom".

That was what he needed to bring his lips to touch yours vigorously, like he was holding himself much longer than just the couple of minutes the two of you spent together. You sigh as soon as you feel his thin lips hovering yours ever so slightly before clashing then together in a rhythmic slow burning kiss.

His presence was everywhere, his touch on your waist, still burning over the fabric of your shirt. His tongue makes its way to your mouth, finding yours.

The realization of the fact that you were making out with your professor in his classroom hit you hard, turning you on even more. Anyone could walk in and find the two of you in that state, your hands tugging on his curls, messing his once perfectly tidy hair, your lips fighting to feel one another in every way possible and your desperate whimpers every time Tom lowered his head to kiss your neck.

The wet path of his smooth kisses over the sensitive skin shivers in contrast with the cold air.

"Been dreaming 'bout this forever", Tom's accent is even thicker now, with his voice coming out husky. "Since you first talked to me, darling, since you first walked in my class".

You moan, unable to say something more, your hands clenching around the fabric of his sweater.

His face is now on the same level of your again, and when you feel his breathing hitting you, his hands cupping your face, you open your eyes slowly.

"I want you", he says it quietly, word by word in a slow flow, "But I want you to tell me if you want it too. I don't want to pressure you into anything, and I don't want you to think that I do this with my-"

"I do", you cut him off, too desperate to wait. "I want you, Tom"

Hearing you calling him by his name made Tom snap out of his own worried thoughts to concentrate on you and you only. He took your lips on his once more before saying in a quiet hurried whisper.

"Meet me in my office in five minutes. Not more, not less, just be there in five minutes".

His face held a serious expression and you couldn't help but nod quickly before he grabbed his bag, eyes never leaving your face, and walked out of the classroom.

You were left there, still out of breath, checking time up to count the most long five minutes of your entire life.

Thinking straighter, without your professor's mint scent filling up your senses, you couldn't believe that it actually happened. Only God knows how many times you caught yourself daydreaming of this day, of how sometimes you'd get yourself off by the thought of Mr. Holland having his way with you.

You walk out of the classroom and wait at one of the aisle's bench, holding your backpack tightly. The corridor was empty and you were thankful that no one was able to see your excited and nervous expression. By this moment, you wouldn't be able to hide it anymore.

So when your watch hit five minutes, you almost jumped from the bench and walked down the hall, looking for the stairs to the next floor, where you knew Mr. Holland's office was.

It was gladly at the end of the hallway. A very nice wooden board held the description "Prof. Thomas S. Holland", making your knees go weak at the realization that he was right there, waiting for you.

You almost knocked on the door, but thought it was dumb anyways, so you just turned the handle before entering the room.

Tom was standing by his desk, his back facing you. You could see the hard breathing he had by the way his shoulders were moving heavily.

"Please, don't tell you are overthinking it", you say in a low voice, closing the door quietly behind you.

Tom turns his head and smiles sweetly at you. "I'm not", he says.

You don't know what to do by now, so you just stand at the door, holding the strap of your backpack, that's hanging by your hand. Mr. Holland makes his way to you, taking his hand to cup one of your cheek, thumb caressing the skin softly.

"You're so gorgeous", he whispers.

The room is dark, only illuminated by the din light from a lamp on his desk. You can see everything, though, from his slightly moves to the small frown on his face. You flutter your eyes close as he lean into you, lips brushing over yours in a tempting way.

His hands travel to your waist, fingers deepening in your skin, making you whimper against his mouth.

You put your hands around his neck, brining him impossibly closer, and hear him groan.

Tom smashes your lips together, tongues not wasting time to collide in a passionate kiss. Yours fingers lock with his curls, pulling gently as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

"Shit", you moan against him, feeling the wet patch on your panties growing even more. Your walls are clenching at the thought of being so close to touch your professor inside his office.

Tom takes you abruptly, supporting your weight as he carries you to his desk, putting you to sit on it.

His hands are quick to undo the first buttons of your shirt. However, before he continues, his eyes search for yours, asking for approval, which you quickly give by shaking your head fervently. "Please", you whimper, squirming under your makeshift seat.

Tom smirks before continuing his work, the tip of his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin between your breasts as he does.

He opens your shirt, revealing the black bra that held your breasts tightly. Lowering his head, Tom lets a trail of wet kisses along the way from the base of your neck to your covered nipples.

"Please, Sir. The more I like this... I don't want foreplay right now".

Tom arcs an eyebrow at you, the pad of his fingers massaging each one of your nipples, pushing the bra's fabric aside.

"You know you don't have to call me sir now, Y/N", he says in a husky voice, a smirk in the corner of his thin lips. His eyes were glistening in pure lust as he saw you opening your legs further to get his body closer to yours. "But you want to, don't you? You like it, calling me sir. You like the thought that your professor is about to fuck you".

You bite your lip to suppress a moan, your core throbbing with desire simply for his words.

He grabs the back of your thighs and squeeze them, pulling your lower half into him. "Who would know that such a good student would be so fucking naughty", his hand goes up your bare thigh, getting closer to where you desired his hands the most.

"Please, Tom. Just- just do something". You beg him, as you watch your skirt going up, revealing your soaked panties.

Tom smiled wickedly, "Thought you wanted it to be sir instead". You're about to give him a wise answer, but then you feel his thumb pressing directly into your clothed clit, and swallow hard the lump that formed in the back of your throat.

"Damn it", you curse, opening your legs even more.

"You're so fucking wet", he states, looking to your center. You put one of your legs over the desk, allowing him to take a better look and to get a better position with his hands. "Bloody beautiful"

Tom kneels down on the floor, looking directly to your center, which made your pussy throb again in expectation. His breathing is so close to your heat that you can feel the shiver running down your spine as he gets closer.

"Is that okay, darling?" He looks into your eyes, asking for permission, and you nod yes firmly. Tom smirks, his lips connecting with your pussy. You release a moan just in right in time his tongue swirl around your entrance, teasing you.

He closes his eyes, feeling the taste of your sweet cunt filling up his senses. As soon as he fucks his tongue into you, you grab his curls, "Shit, Tom, just like that".

He moans inside of you, which made you roll your eyes back, hips bucking to create the even more friction between his tongue and your walls.

You couldn't believe that was actually happening. When most of college guys wouldn't give a shit about your pleasure when you were getting laid, there was your English professor, the most respected man in that department and also the most desired one, going down on you, tasting you like it was his last meal.

Tom puts one finger inside of you, while his tongue lap over your clit. Seeing that you adjusted pretty well, he brought another one. "Tom- I'm close"

You pull his curls tightly, bitting your lips when he hits just the right spot. "Fuck, fuck-"

"Shh, darling, can't make much noise, gonna get us caught", he said in a rushed voice, eager to bring his mouth back to you.

"Sorry, sorry", you said, bringing your free hand to cover your mouth and biting it, as you feel the sensation at the bottom of your belly, your swollen bud of nerves throbbing and showing you were about to come.

It's almost impossible to contain the stuffy sequence of pleasured sounds you released, but you try your hardest while Tom is still stimulating you through your high.

"That's it, I've got you, I've got you..."

You lean against the desk, trying to catch your breath, eyes almost closing shut. If that wasn't the best orgasm from an oral you've ever had, you didn't know which one it was. You could still feel your walls clenching around nothing, holding on into something to keep bring you back from your dizzy state.

"You alright?" Tom asks, a hint of worry on his voice as he smooths your bare legs. "We can stop if you want to-"

"No", you swallow, opening your eyes and shaking your head. "Just gimme a moment. This was- this was fucking fantastic".

Tom looked at you for a couple of minutes, his worried expression giving place to a smug one. He got up from his knees, helping you to take you foot off the desk and straight your posture. You smile at him, caught in the sight on his eyes. It was softer again.

In fact, Tom felt his heart racing inside his chest. He got the most beautiful view right in front of him. He had imagined this scene so many times he couldn't dare to admit, but none of them made justice to the reality, to the expression of pleasure on your face as you came.

"I'm okay", you say, putting your hands on his shoulders, running them down his arms. It was defined, firm and so good to touch, you couldn't wait to take that stupid sweater off. "I want more. I wanna touch you", you drop one of your hand to his crotch, massaging his covered cock, which felt painfully hard. Tom groaned, bitting his lip not softly to cover his sound.

His hands came to your jaw, cupping your face as he leaned to kiss you softly on the lips. "I really would like to feel this pretty mouth around me, darling, but maybe another time, I need to be inside of you right fucking now".

You nod your head eagerly, pulling him closer to a kiss. Your hands were quick to undo his buckle, dropping his trousers to the floor. Teasing his a little, you took a handful of his cock on your hand through his briefs, pleased by the moan he released into your mouth. But that didn't make you take any longer to pull of the material, revealing his length completely.

By the time you saw his lower half naked, with his dick standing hard and red at the tip for you, the pre cum coming out already, you felt your mouth watering, and you knew that if it wasn't for the fact that you wanted to feel him inside you as soon as he wanted it too, you'd get down on your knees just to feel him wrapped around your lips.

Tom pumped his cock a few times, taken by the sight of you staring at him with so much lust on your eyes. He smirked, his cock throbbing on his hand.

"You like it, darling?", he teased, aligning his tip with your clit to rub a few time. His voice came thicker now, "Is it enough for you?"

You lean against his chest, bitting his shoulder to contain a moan, whimpering as you feel your bud aching for more friction. "Yeah, Tom. Please, please, just fuck me already", you cry out.

"Spread your beautiful legs for me then... yeah, just like that. Good girl". He uses his cock to hit your entrance a couple of times, the tip teasing you every then and now. And then he realised. "Shit, I don't have a condom here. Fuck, I completely forgot about-"

"It's alright-", you breath out, trying to speak without letting a whimper scape. "I've got one in my backpack, just- fuck, pick it for me, I think I won't be able to walk if I get out of here right now".

Tom cocks an eyebrow at you in question, and you feel your cheeks burning at his stare. "Do you always carry a condom with you during classes?"

"What? No! I just thought-", you didn't want to admit it out loud but you also didn't want him to think other things. "I just expected this to happen some day, alright? Judge me".

Tom's face turns into a smug expression again, a smirk making his way to his lips as he chuckles lightly. "So you really wanted us to fuck this whole time, eh?"

You roll your eyes and shove his chest slightly. "Oh, fuck you".

He took a grab of your wrists, firmly, holding you in place, licking his lips. "No, I'm gonna fuck you. By the way, you should've told me sooner, I'd be very pleased to make your expectations real". Tom brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, "You have no idea of how long I've been dreaming of this. Always walking in my class, in this office, wearing those tight jeans of yours... that day in my car, all I could think about when I saw you in that fucking clothes was that I wanted to take you right there, in the backseat. My best student, the most gorgeous girl".

As he speaks, you suck his thumb inside of your mouth, licking it like it was something else. He watched you amazed, his cock twitching in excitement. "How can you be real, Miss y/n?"

You smile, lips still wrapped around his finger, before letting it go and dropping a wet kiss before saying, "Get that condom, Mr. Holland, I can't wait much longer"

"Alright", he chuckles, before turning around and looking for your backpack, following your instructions to find the pack. Tom ripped it and wrapped the condom around him with ability, making such an effort to control his eagerness.

He came back to you, pumping his length a bit more again, though he couldn't be any more hard than he already was. "There you go, love".

You have to bite your hand again as soon as you feel his tip entering you. Your pussy stretch at it, and you throw your head back at the small pain and the pleasure. No amount of arousal could prepare you for this. Tom caught your expression and was slow enough to continue, substituting the pain for the pleasure, while rubbing your leg to distract you. "It's okay, I've got you", he whispered, pulling your lower half to sit in a more comfortable position. You breath out, not feeling a bit of pain now, just the greatest sensation of having his cock stretching your walls deliciously. Tom hissed as soon as he got entirely inside of you, trying to not be snapped out by the feeling your snug walls around him.

"Is that okay, love? Are you- fuck, are you fine?", he asked in a husky voice, feeling his throat tightening at the pleasure.

"Yes", you nod fervently, "Yes, please, move...".

Tom didn't waste any time to start moving, slowly at first. The feeling was too good to not lose yourself into it. He put his lips in your ear, whispering and grunting while taking himself out of you completely just to fit it all over again.

You held his body tightly, feeling the intensity of his moves, the precision that his hips held to slam right back into your pussy. But soon enough, both of you needed more than that, and Tom started to take a faster pace.

"Tom... oh, my God, yes", you let out a cry, throwing your head into his shoulder, which made him only move faster.

"Fuck, you so tight", he moaned, grabbing your ass cheeks all at once to bring you closer to the edge of the desk. He slammed harder into you, hitting spots that made your eyes roll.

"Yeah, darling, so good to me, such a fucking good girl letting me fuck you", the sweat on his forehead was beginning to form, but he didn't seem to feel any kind of tiredness, keeping the steady rhythm.

You spread your legs even wider, bending your knees so he could have a better angle. That was enough to make Tom take you in his lap, not daring to get out of you while he carried your body to the opposite side of the room, your back hitting the wall. He was going to fuck you against it.

You whimper, not being able to form any sentence as you felt the knot forming on your belly again. It was all too much, and then you felt the pad of his thumb over your clit.

"You look like you're about to burst, darling", he said, his breath coming in heavy waves as he thrusts his hips into you.

Your boobs were bouncing with the movement of your whole body, between your arms that were firmly holding onto Tom's shoulder to keep you from falling. It was a sight to be seen and Tom could feel his orgasm approaching as well.

"That's 'cause I fucking am-"

"Tom?"

A knock was heard on the door, making your eyes go wide. You bite your lips to refrain any sounds, your face writhing in pleasure as Tom didn't seem to care to stop his thrusts.

He was too focused on your high to stop and decided that he'd ignore whoever was outside, but the person didn't seem to let it go.

"Tom, mate? I'm off now, you still want to go to that pub?", It was Mr. Osterfield, Tom's best mate and one of the most well-known professors in that college. He was right in the other side of the door, and the thought that only a single sound from your lips could get you and professor's Tom caught made you clench around him.

Your lips part involuntarily, and Tom is quick to cover your mouth with his hand to keep you from moaning. He stares into your eyes as a sign to keep quiet, which you agree with one difficult nod.

He clears his throat and his hips loses rhythm, going back to the slow pace again. "Yeah, Haz, I'm grading some essays and will be out in a few. Just wait me in the parking lot".

His control gets you even more wet, the thought that he was fucking you and still talking to Harrison getting you to a blissful state.

"I can help you, if you want", Harrison insisted, which made Tom groan, burying his face into your neck.

"No, Harrison, I'm fine, I'll be there in a minute", he said sternly and the deep in voice made you clench again. Tom had his face writhing in pleasure and pain for not being able to fuck you harder and faster by that moment.

"What is that, man, c'mon-"

"Harrison, for fuck's sake, told you, you can go now!", he shot, his hands tugging on your skin hard, the rhythm of his hips painfully slow.

Mr. Osterfield mumbles something like "Alright, you dick", and you two heard the footsteps going away.

"Oh my fuck, I'm sorry-" Tom breathed out, taking his hand away from your mouth.

"Don't- just move, Tom, I'm begging you", you moan, bringing his chest closer to yours. He bites the skin of your neck and nods before going back to his previous rhythm.

"Goddamn it, you feel so fucking good. I won't last much longer, sweetheart"

"Me neither", you whimper. Tom brings his face back to watch you, smashing your lips together.

His pace is fast, both of your heart blasting inside your chests, chasing your high, before Tom leads this thumb over your clit and brush it so quickly and with so much precision that you can't help but cum at that very moment.

"Tom-", you almost yell, but Tom is quick to cover your mouth once again, this time with his own lips. It doesn't take longer for him to reach his orgasm too, feeling your walls hugging him tightly, begging him to come too. He kept thrusting his hips into you, ridding both of you through your orgasm.

"That's it, my girl... my best girl"

Your breath is coming in heavy pants, chests colliding in each other, the closeness between the two of you making you feel insanely safe and good about what you just did.

Tom has his hair clearly messed, and anyone could tell what he just did with you if just took a look at him. You weren't far from it yourself, skirt all rumpled and lots of red spots on your skin.

Your legs felt weak, and Tom helped you to put your feet back on the ground. He took himself out of you slowly, taking care to not hurt your overstimulated heat.

After discarding the condom and pulling his trousers back, Tom watched as you tried to clear your own mind to collect yourself together.

"Wait", he said before turning to his desk and taking some tissues from a package before walking back to you. "May I?"

You looked up at him, confused at first, and very surprised when you got the hint of what he meant.

"Uh, I can do it myself, no need to worry", you said sheepishly. Tom frowned and shook his head while getting down on his knees to wipe the mess between your inner thighs.

The both of you remained silent, not knowing what to say. You were afraid of his moment, of what it meant from now own and what changed in your relationship. After all, after fucking on his desk and getting to moan his name, he was still your professor.

Tom got up and discarded the tissues on the same bin as the condom. He stared at it a few seconds before saying in his usual playful tone, "Well, I gotta remind to get rid of it before anyone gets to clean this room".

You giggle, tidying up your clothes.

"So...", you grab your backpack, unsure of what to say next. "I think I should go now. Y'know, before someone gets suspicious".

"You don't have to", Tom is quick to say, but shakes his head before continuing. "I mean, you should probably go home, it's not going to look well if you leave my office so late, but... what I meant is that you can, y'know, come back".

"Oh", you blush, and then shrug. "You mean, this is not a one time thing?"

"I didn't want it to be", he admits, closing one of his hands in a fists, nervously. "Is that what you want?"

You nod a few times, staring into his eyes, and see as a smile makes its way to his lips. The contrast between this expression and the so confident one he held just a couple of minutes ago is incredible.

Then he adds a more serious tone to it, licking his lips. "It doesn't have to be here, though. Would you like to... go to my place? We could have a proper date, if you agree, and not only-"

"Are you asking me out?"

Tom swallows and before answering, he averts his eyes. "Well, I couldn't get more unprofessional than I already did, so I think there's no harm on it. Yeah, I'm asking you out".

You smile sweetly at his nervousness. That man just fucked you like there was no tomorrow and now he was shy for asking you to go on a date.

"I'd really appreciate that, Mr. Holland", you say. He looks up at you and relief washes his face.

"Okay. Okay, perfect, so... I'll message you. Well, through your e-mail, cause that's all I have. Unless you wanna give me your number, then I might-"

"C'mon, sir, we only fucked once, do you really think it's appropriate to have my number so early?" You joke, narrowing your eyes, hearing his charming laugh right away. "I'll keep my eyes on my e-mail then".

Tom smiles at you, nodding. You say a quiet 'see you', before turning around and getting out of the office, glancing at your favorite professor one more time before closing the door, both of you excited to your next encounter.

#tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines #tom holland smut #prof!tom #prof!holland #professor!tom #professor!tom smut #prof!tom smut #smut #prof!tom x reader #tom x reader #request

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

More Than Today (Richard Winters x Reader)

So this has been in my wips for MONTHS. But here we are! I know its also been a hot minute since I’ve written any BOB fics. Sorry, friends. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: a couple swear words (thanks Nixon)

Words: 2750

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m @saritanotserena

Paris.

City of Light.

City of Love.

Dick Winters just wished the soldier behind him would stop bumping his chair as he laughed at another dirty joke.

It had not been his idea to be here. Apparently Sink thought he needed a break. Nixon and Welsh ganged up on him, practically forcing him to pack his bag and get on the train.

Now that he was here though….it was nice.

He would never admit how many steaming, hot baths he had taken since finding his hotel room. Plus, sleeping in a real, soft bed- his bones sang with joy at the reprieve from the hard, army cot it had been subjected to for years now.

Tomorrow morning he was supposed to be leaving. His last 24 hours in Paris. Truthfully, he had done nothing, just rest. Both physically and mentally. He knew if he returned without having visited some kind of touristy place, both Nixon and Welsh would be furious. Though, he would have to have a conversation with Nix. It was not until Dick started unpacking that he found the box of condoms Nix must have slipped into his bag when he was not looking.

Sometimes he wondered why he put up with the man. Even that thought made him smile. Somehow him and Nix, they just clicked. Completely polar opposites but maybe that was what allowed their friendship to take root and grow.

The soldier behind Dick laughed loudly, rocking his chair back with the movement and knocking into Dick once again. He grimaced, just saving himself from spilling coffee onto his Class A uniform. He knew he outrank the man behind him and all his friends, he could easily say something…. but that seemed like a battle not worth fighting.

He quickly finished his small cup of coffee, relishing the actual bitter taste of the drink verse the watery stuff the army supplied. Standing up, he pulled out the change from his pocket, ready to leave a tip for the nice waitress.

"There you are!" A feminine voice called out with a distinctly British accent.

Dick lifted his head, knowing she was not talking to him but still curious. But then the strangest thing happened. He looked up and met her eyes as she walked past the few other tables. A blinding smile lit up her face and he felt his heartbeat stutter at how beautiful it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others sitting around watching her with interest but her eyes remained solely focused on him.

When she came to his side, she gently placed a hand on his forearm and lifted up slightly on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'm so sorry I am late, love. I lost track of time. Do we still have time for a cup or shall we go?" She easily asked, as she slid down into the extra chair at the table.

He stood frozen for a moment, his mind questioning everything that just happened. Thankfully, his body went on autopilot and he sat back down in his chair. "Uh…. it’s fine."

"Lovely!" She beamed, waving a hand to get the attention of the waitress.

As he stared at her, his mind finally seemed to feel the tension hidden just below the surface of her overly-sunny disposition. Her hands laid in her lap, a white-knuckle grip on her small purse though. A friendly smile remained on her face but her eyes kept shifting warily over to the other side of the street, like prey keeping a predator in its peripheral.

Confused and now concerned, he peered over to where her eyes kept shooting. Two men stood across the street watching her with sullen expressions. Their uniforms informed him they were US army, the chevrons on their sleeves stated they were both sergeants.

Dick turned back to her and lowered his voice, even though he guessed over the noise of those around him, the men would not hear. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

"Wait." She said sharply, even though her smile never faltered. Then the waitress approached and the woman ordered a cup of tea with enthusiasm. Dick found himself ordering another cup of coffee per her insistence.

Finally, the waitress walked away, having had a brief conversation about the lovely color of lipstick she wore with the woman across from him after taking their orders.

It was then the woman peeked across the street once more. Whatever she saw, Dick watched the tension ease out of her. He glanced over to see the two men making their way back down the street.

"Bloody hell." She muttered, dropping her face in her hands.

"Are you alright? Were those men bothering you?"

"Mmm? Oh, no, well yes. They kept following me even after I told them I was meeting my fiancé. I am so terribly sorry I dragged you into this, it was either find someone to pretend to be my fiancé or find an alley nearby and stab them. I quite like this dress and would prefer not to get blood on it today."

He just stared at her, unsure how to take her answer. He would have thought it was a joke but with the way she casually answered, as if stating the sky was blue, he assumed she was serious. "Um, right." He coughed, not quite sure where to take the conversation from there. Luckily, she seemed to notice.

"Is there somewhere you need to go? I truly am sorry for holding you up. I'll pay for your coffee when the waitress returns, it's the least I can do. Don't feel like you have to stay here just for me."

"No, no. It's alright, ma'am. I was just…." His voice trailed off.

She smiled softly at him, folding her hands in her lap. "Are you stationed here in Paris?"

At that moment, the waitress returned with their ordered drinks.

"No." He answered her prior question, watching her take a sip from her cup. His own cup sat between his hands but he felt no need to drink it yet. "My CO demanded I take a 72-hour pass."

"Mmm….so you are one of those?" She laughed lightly at the look of confusion on his expressive face. "A CO who actually cares about his men, focuses on making sure they are taken care of, instead of spending time with the other officers wasting all his money on booze and women."

"Um…." He could feel a warmth spreading over his face. Hoping to hide it, he brought his cup to his lips and took a sip.

"It's alright, sir. We need more officers like you in this damn war. What's your name?"

That he could easily answer. "Lieutenant Dick Winters, Easy Company, 506th, Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airbourne."

"Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Winters. I'm y/n y/l/n. So Airbourne, hmmm? I've heard about you. Tell me about your training."

And somehow Dick found himself telling her about Currahee, about the jumps at Mackall, the field drills in Upottery, even laughing about Sobel's antics with her.

Eventually, their cups ran dry.

"Where are you off to now?" She asked pleasantly.

Dick answered honestly, feeling relaxed in her presence. "I'm not sure."

"Well, it so happens I was on my way to visit the Notre-Dame Cathedral. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure."

Dick insisted on paying for both of their drinks, claiming his mother would read him the riot act if he allowed a woman to pay for her own. As they walked away from the cafe, she slipped her arm through his like they had done it a million times. Instead of feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable at the unexpected physical touch, he found himself smiling down at her.

What started off as a day without any intended plan, just enjoying not being on the front line or behind a desk writing reports, became one of the most enjoyable days of his life. After the Cathedral, they wandered along the Seine, stopping at any shop or attraction that caught their eye. She regaled him with different facts or histories of places they saw and other locations in Paris. Before the war, she had spent some time in Paris and now, having returned as a translator, she felt it was even more important to remember those things that the Nazis tried so hard to destroy.

Soon conversations turned to their own experiences at home, his in Pennsylvania and hers in London. The more they talked, the more he found himself attracted to her beyond the physical. She was a breath of fresh air amongst the smog of war. A ray of sunshine to remind him that above the dark clouds of War, the sun still resided. But even if the day was spent in laughter and companionship, a war still brewed outside. A painful reminder to what Dick's priorities should be. So, he promised himself that he would enjoy her company now, but once he left Paris, he would put her out of his mind. His men and the war came first.

As night settled over the city, they walked side by side back to her hotel. It was not too far from his own, thus he refused to listen to her protests and told her he would escort her back for her own safety.

"Well, this is me." She stopped in front of the lovely hotel. "Thank you for escorting me."

"It's the least I can do. You spent the whole day being my tour guide."

"That sounds dreadfully boring. But you'll have stories to share with that Nixon friend of yours. Though he may be more impressed if you bring him back a vintage bottle of wine."

"No, he only drinks Vat 69. Lord knows where the man keeps finding the stuff."

"Besides your footlocker?"

"Yeah, besides that." He chuckled at her jest and the mischievous smile on her face. As they stood there, smiling at one another, he found himself wishing they had more time. That perhaps he had met her before or after the war and had been able to court her properly. For now though, he would cherish their time together. "Thank you for today."

Her smile held a hint of sadness in it, as if she lamented their separation just as much as he did. "I pray our paths will cross again."

"Goodnight, y/n."

"Goodnight, Dick."

He stepped back, lingering a moment longer to gaze at her. After, he turned and started to walk away. The hour was late and they both needed to sleep. It was less than 8 hours until his train was to depart in the morning and he knew it would be wise to enjoy his soft bed one more time before returning to a hard, army cot.

"Dick!"

He spun around, surprised to see her walking towards him, her heels clicking loudly on the sidewalk.

"Is everything alright?"

Without acknowledging his question, she pressed her lips to his in an eager kiss. Dick liked to consider himself a gentleman, never to take advantage of anyone, especially a woman. In this moment though, as all thoughts fled under her touch, his body reacted on instinct. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him while their lips parted, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, tasting like the wine she sipped on at dinner, her hands tightly gripping the lapels of his uniform. Heat coursed through his body as their tongues tangled together. He felt hypnotized, unable to pull away, to maintain propriety. Nor did he want too. She nipped at his bottom lip and his knees almost buckled underneath him. This moment was pleasure and fire, something he never experienced before….and something he wanted to revisit over and over with her.

After only a second and eternity combined, they both pulled back with swollen lips and breathless. Rising on her toes, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, a single flame compared to the bonfire they just lavished themselves in. Swiftly, she stepped back, running her hands over her dress.

"Goodnight…. don’t tell Nixon about this."

He nodded, almost shyly, mind still reeling from their shared passion. "Yes, ma'am."

With a playful, flirty wink, she twirled around and headed back towards her hotel, her heels clicking loudly on the ground.

Dick watched her walk away, lips still tingling and residual flames teasing his nerves. His eyes traced over her form, hoping to memorize it, to be able to always savor this moment. Looking up to the heavens, he silently prayed that one day, their paths would cross, one day he could perhaps pursue her, one day he could feel her lips against his again.

*****

"So, you still haven't said much about your time in Paris." Nixon prodded, sipping from his canteen that certainly was not water. The intelligence officer had been relentlessly interrogating his friend about his pass for the past week.

Dick rolled his eyes, not even glancing over. "Not much to say, Nix."

"You had to have done something! Come on! It's Paris!"

"I saw the Notre-Dame."

"Hey, that's something. Stop pressing him, Nix." Welsh butted in with his typical lazy grin. He reclined in the extra chair next to Nixon. "He did return the condoms."

"For Pete's sake." Dick muttered as he listened to the two men laugh. He stood looking out the window of his office, overlooking Easy Company below being drilled by Lieutenant Dike. Again. There was something to be said about being prepared but this went beyond that.

"Harry, how long have they been out there now?" He asked, not removing his gaze from his men.

Welsh sighed, glancing at the clock. "About two hours now."

"Right, come on. Let's go relieve them."

The other two scrambled to their feet, following Dick out of his office and down through the labyrinth of the HQ building. Lieutenant Dike had come with high expectations but the more Dick watched the man, the more worried he became.

"You're too soft on them." Nixon teased, trailing behind him.

Dick gave a quick salute to some officers they passed, never missing a step as he responded. "They aren't learning anything by marching back and forth out there besides ways to murder their CO."

"Was that a joke? Holy fuck. Did you hear that, Harry? Dick made a joke! Paris changed you."

"I heard. Still in shock." Welsh deadpanned.

Dick sighed good-naturedly as they stepped outside the building. Slipping his cap on, he started in the direction of his newest Lieutenant. The footsteps of his companions falling in step behind him.

"Dick!"

His feet screeched to a halt. He knew that voice. Whipping around, he was greeted by the sight of her. Someone he thought he would never truly see again. A beautiful, blinding smile on her face as she hurried towards him. His heart rapidly pounded within his chest, giving away his shock and joy at seeing her.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He could not help sweeping his eyes over her, surprised to see her in a WAC uniform. Though it did nothing to diminish her beauty.

"I was asked to be a translator and help with deciphering coded messages." She answered casually as if she had not just revolutionized his world. Standing in front of him, she motioned to the army camp around them. "Is this where you are stationed?"

"Yeah, yeah, it is."

"Oh, that's lovely. We'll be able to see each other again. I am late for a meeting otherwise I'd love to chat. Could I see you tomorrow for a cuppa?"

"Um, sure. Yes."

"Perfect. I'll find you in the afternoon." She raised up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips, causing his mind to short-circuit. "It's good seeing you, Dick."

With that she spun on her heel and sashayed away, leaving all three men standing there shocked.

"Who was that?" Nixon demanded, gaze never leaving her retreating form.

"Y/n…. I met her in Paris."

Nixon smacked him on the arm. "You bastard, you said nothing happened there."

"Nothing happened." Dick tried to defend, even if the excuse sounded weak in his own ears. Besides, for him, something certainly did happen.

"Probably should have kept those condoms, Dick." Welsh said, clapping him on the shoulder with a chuckle.

And for a brief moment, Dick wondered if he was right.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagines #richard winters #dick winters #richard winters x reader #dick winters x reader #lewis nixon #harry welsh #mzwrites

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sfb123 · 3 years

Text

Stealing Moments

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary: The Royal family spends the afternoon taking part in some pre-Easter (or preaster, if you will) activities.

Rating: G - I’m not going to sugar coat it (sugar is the last thing this story needs), this is some majorly fluffy stuff here. Even for me, and I’ve produced some pretty fluffy work.

Word Count: 1,947

A/N: So this story is a triple threat:

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt #88 “I meant every word.” Which will appear in bold.

I am also participating in the @choicesaprilchallenge2021, day 3 teal. That prompt will appear in italics.

I am also participating in @trraw, day 2 Liam. That prompt will appear in the form of a handsome and charming King.

A/N 2: This is an idea that I thought of while I was writing my upcoming Uncle Drake fic (you’ll see that one on Sunday), so I decided to write it up as a little prequel to that. Thank you to @jessiembruno for encouraging me to take my crazy throw away ideas and make them into something, and also by contributing this adorable moodboard. You are a Canva master. To think, not too long ago you hated it and cursed it out on the regs!

Tags: You know the drill, they’re down below. I hope you get it! If you want to be added or removed, let me know!

Liam sat in his study, wrapping up some paperwork before his next meeting when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Bastien entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Sir, Lord Neville is demanding an audience with you. Immediately.”

“Of course he is. Tell him I am unavailable, and to make an appointment with my assistant before he leaves.”

“I did. I explained to him that you have an important afternoon meeting that could not be rescheduled. He didn’t appear to care.” Bastien chuckled to himself. This wasn’t the first time Neville had tried to weasel his way into an urgent meeting with the King.

Liam let out a deep breath as he stood, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Of course he didn’t. That’s fine, I need to get to my meeting anyway. I will tell him myself.”

Almost immediately upon exiting his study, Neville was in his face. “Your Majesty, I have an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention-”

Liam held up a hand, silencing him. “I’m sure you do, Lord Neville. Unfortunately, I am on my way to a very important meeting, so I am unable to sit with you right now. Please see my assistant on your way out, and she will be happy to book you for my next available appointment.”

“With all due respect Your Majesty, that simply won’t do. It won’t take long, perhaps I could walk with you to your next meeting?”

Liam internally rolled his eyes at the suggestion. He knew just how to stroke his ego to get him to back down. “Lord Neville, as one of our most valued members of court, I couldn’t possibly do you the disservice of giving you anything but my full attention on what I’m sure is a crucial matter. That is all I would be doing if I allowed you to continue at this time. I will make sure that my staff adjust the schedule to provide us enough time to examine the issue thoroughly. Please send me any documentation as soon as possible so that I may review it before our meeting. That way, we can hit the ground running when we do meet.”

Neville stood tall, a smug expression quickly spreading across his face. “Very well, Your Majesty. I appreciate your assistance in the matter. I will leave the documentation with your assistant.” He bowed, and Liam nodded in response before exiting the area and moving on to his next meeting.

“If I may say sir, the way you handled that situation was truly masterful.” Bastien commented as they walked through the palace.

Liam chuckled and patted his security guard on the back. “All in a day's work, my friend. Everything is in place for this afternoon, I trust? I will have no disruptions for the remainder of the day?”

“Yes Your Majesty, the staff has been fully alerted that you will be unavailable. I will be at the door to ensure that you are not bothered.” Bastien replied.

Once they arrived at their destination, Liam crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. He was the last to arrive, so the sound of the door caught the attention of those that had already gathered.

“Daddy!” Eleanor jumped out of her chair and ran straight for Liam, leaping into his arms.

“Hello Princess.” He chuckled as he held her close, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready to decorate some Easter eggs?” He carried her through the livingroom area of the royal quarters, returning her to her seat at the kitchen table.

“Yep! I helped mommy mix all the colors together. It was so fun!” She gestured to the cups of coloring spread out across the table.

Liam couldn't help but laugh at his daughter’s enthusiasm as he approached his wife, who was standing at the table making the final preparations for their afternoon project. “Hello, beautiful.” He leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on Riley’s lips.

“Hey handsome. You made it right on time. I’m impressed.” She teased.

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world. No matter how hard Neville tried.”

“Neville, yuck!” Eleanor chimed in, causing both of her parents to burst out laughing.

Riley turned her attention back to her husband. “Alright, you go get changed. I don’t want you ruining your fancy king clothes with egg dye.”

Liam kissed his wife and daughter before going into the bedroom to put on some more casual clothes. He returned unnoticed as Riley explained the egg dying process to Eleanor. He stood for a moment and watched them, his girls, his world. He couldn’t help the smile that quickly spread across his face at the sight.

“Daddy, come on, we can’t start without you!” Eleanor called out to him from the other side of the room, breaking him from his thoughts.

He returned to the table and stood between his girls. “Alright, I’m here. Where do we begin?”

Not only was this Eleanor’s first time decorating Easter eggs, but Liam’s too. He was told that as a Prince, there were more productive ways for him to spend his time. It was just one of the many childhood experiences being royalty simply didn’t allow for. He was so happy, not just to have this experience for himself, but to share it with his daughter. Another way to give her the childhood he never had, but always wanted.

Once Riley explained the process, they got to work; since she was the seasoned professional, she let Eleanor and Liam take the lead and do most of the work. She marveled in the similarities in their gestures, the concentration on their faces as they placed their white eggs in the dye, and the excitement when it would come out dyed a bright color. At one point, Riley couldn’t help but laugh when they pulled out their eggs at the same time, and looked up at her with identical expressions of joy, showing off their creations.

They had gotten down to the last egg, Liam turned to Eleanor, “Ok Princess, we’ve got one left. You get to pick the color.”

A thoughtful expression overtook Eleanor’s face as she surveyed the colors that surrounded her before turning to her parents and confidently announcing her decision. “Teal.”

Riley and Liam locked eyes and shared a confused expression. There was no teal, they had only prepared basic colors, blue, green, yellow, pink, and purple. “Baby girl, we don’t have teal. These are the only colors we have.” Riley explained.

Eleanor’s lip started to quiver as her arms went across her chest. “I want teal. Please.” Her parents had been teaching her the importance of manners, so she figured if she said please, they had to give her what she wanted.

They both knew what that lip quiver meant, they were going to need to move quickly to avoid a total meltdown. Liam approached the princess and started rubbing her back to keep her calm. “It’s alright Eleanor. Why don’t you tell me why you want a teal egg so badly?”

“It’s my favorite color.�� She looked up at her father, a pleading expression etched in her face. Her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

There was no question that Eleanor had the King wrapped around her finger, and when she looked at him like that, there was absolutely no way he could deny her. “Alright, let me go talk to mommy and see what we can do for you.” He kissed her on her cheek and returned to his wife. “Riley, there must be something we can do. I can send someone to get teal coloring. We have unlimited resources at our disposal, there must be some way we can make this happen for her.”

Riley shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Man, you really are a sucker when it comes to her. Aren’t you.”

“For both of my girls, actually.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them gently across her knuckles, while giving her a hopeful expression.

She sighed deeply, as much as she tried to fight it, she was also a sucker for her family. “Alright, I guess I can try to mix the blue and green together. Maybe I can get the right ratio to make a teal dye.”

Liam turned to Eleanor and gave her a thumbs up, she clapped her hands and cheered in response. Riley got to work carefully mixing the two dyes into a third cup, occasionally dipping a piece of paper in to test the color. She smiled to herself when the fourth test paper emerged from the cup. Mission accomplished. “Did somebody want to make a teal egg?”

“Me me me!” Eleanor raised her hand and jumped up and down in her seat.

Riley placed the cup in front of Eleanor and handed her the egg. The pair worked together to color the final egg to the princess’s exact specifications.

Liam watched as the two of them completed their family project. His heart was so full at that moment that he felt weak in the knees. He reached behind him and laid his palms against the kitchen island to steady himself. He stood there as his wife, the love of his life, sat with his daughter creating memories in their home. In that moment, he wasn’t a King, he was the luckiest man in the world.

With the help of her mother, Eleanor pulled the egg from the dye, her smile growing exponentially as she proudly looked up at her father to show off her work. “Daddy, we did it! It’s teal!”

Liam chuckled at the sight in front of him. “I think it’s the most beautiful egg I have ever seen, Princess.”

Riley looked up and noticed Liam’s expression before leaning down to Eleanor. “Hey sweets, why don’t you go wash up for dinner while I put all of this away.” Her daughter looked up and nodded before rushing down the hall. Riley approached Liam and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Love, I can honestly tell you I have never been better.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “Do you remember our first date? During the social season?” She nodded. “You asked me what my dream was, and I told you I wanted a real family, one that was close and listened to each other.” He paused, staring deeply into her eyes. “I have that, because of you Riley. You’ve made my dream, my heart’s desire, come true. Going into my social season, I had all but given up on falling in love, and assumed I would simply marry for duty. Then you uprooted your whole life to give me a chance at happiness. I will never be able to tell you how truly grateful I am for all that you have given me.” He placed a lingering kiss on her lips.

“Liam, I did it for me too. That night in New York, I had never felt like that before. I was not that girl, the one that drops everything to fly around the world for a boy I just met, but I knew there was something there that was worth exploring.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Really?”

Riley laughed gently. “I meant every word.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he pulled her close.

They pulled apart just as Eleanor bounded back into the room. She ran straight for her parents and jumped into Liam’s arms. He held her against one side, and pulled Riley into the other. He was sure that life couldn’t get better than that very moment.

Tags:

Permatag- @anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

One Shots- @darley1101

Liam x Riley- @jared2612

@choicesficwriterscreations @wackydrabbles @choicesaprilchallenge2021 @trraw

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noa-nightingale · 3 years

Text

Gay Oar!!! ✨💖 - second post

After I wrote my nerdy little text about the appearance of Oar Oar in the Mansa Musa PH ep (you can find that post here), I naturally also had to write one about Sword Oar appearing in the Smallpox ep.

I honestly should have expected him to show up sooner or later after his boyfriend already did but it still caught me off guard. ✨

I’ll use my beautiful “autisticwatcher” tag for this (and if you also have to say things about Watcher-related autism stuff or autism-related Watcher stuff, feel free to use it too). Here is an attempt to justify it even though this topic probably is not inherently autistic: a) I experience every part of life through an autistic lense and b) the ways I express joy are... let’s say, atypical.

Here’s what I mean by that (and don’t worry, this is going somewhere): I am not a very outwardly expressive person. My face is kind of neutral most of the time (you could call it resting bitch bastard face), I have a voice that is often monotonous, and I don’t like showing strong emotions.

And this is what I did when Sword Oar showed up: I sort of jerked back in my chair and clapped my hands once. Then continued watching the episode with the biggest autistic grin (i.e. with what probably looked like a mild smile from the outside). ✨

Let’s get into it! Once again, it brought me great happiness to write this, and - be warned - some of this stuff is pretty specific. And once again, I did not expect that I would spend my time writing about a sponsorship part. ^-^

Enjoy! 💖

“Okay, moving along! Oh-” - “Oar are we!” Never stop with the oar puns, please. I live for the oar puns.

I think I already talked about Oar Oar’s voice and how much I like it but Sowrd Oar’s voice is equally amazing (sometimes a bit hard to understand but I can live with that - I love that voice). I also enjoyed his soft little laugh in the beginning. It was sweet.

We get a little more info on the Professor who apparently smells like “rotten cotton candy mixed with expired vinegar” (also, the sound effect after that killed me lol). Oof. Didn’t have to expose him like that lmao. I like that Sword Oar says to the Professor “I like you but you are a smelly guy” - confirming that he indeed likes him (I have one or two headcanons about this but I am... not going to mention them here, for reasons I will write about below).

The sponsor for this episode is Scentbird, and Sword Oar starts talking about “smelling seasonally appropriate” which I like - we are transitioning into autumn, the leaves will change soon, it is almost Over the Garden Wall rewatch time (I usually start my annual rewatch in October), and I just like the autumn vibes, the thoughts of pumpkins and colorful leaves and little ghosts. It’s my favorite time of the year. 🍂

Here’s a quote from the episode: “put that light sexy summer fragrances on the shelf in exchange for a thick seductive scent for the colder months”.

Okay okay OKAY you... you can’t do this to me!! >:( I have Thoughts about this, okay? Again, I am not giving you any details here (see below) but I have one or two new ideas about Sword Oar’s and Oar Oar’s relationship, and all this talk about “sexy” and “seductive” is not helping.

Like... not to get too depressed in a post about anthropomorphic oars and a sponsorship but there was a time when it was not even legal to be gay (and that time was not that long ago) and there was a time when I did not see any happy queer representation in any media. (I had Brokeback Mountain and that movie is sad as all hell; it breaks my heart every time I watch it, it is incredibly tragic, and that was pretty much the only thing I saw happening to queer people in fiction when I was growing up - struggle, suffering and death. It does something to a queer teenager, is what I am saying. And you carry that pain into adulthood, even if things do get better.)

And then look at these oars - openly gay, openly in love and openly sexual with each other. Yes I am getting emotional about a goofy little quote in a friggin’ sponsorship part, goddamnit!! Even considering all the things that are better now, queer people still get hurt and harassed and harmed and sometimes killed for being queer, and queer sexuality is still stigmatized, and it means a lot to me to have these puppets who are just so unapologetically gay and talk openly about it.

Maybe all of this is an overreaction to a tiny little quote. But it makes me happy (and sad), and I want to talk about it. ❤️

Moving on! To more queer stuff (it is more lighthearted this time, don’t worry)! :D

He mentions not having arms or legs, and that’s the bane of my existence tbh. You probably know by now that I draw a lot of gay oars art, and I have complained before about the fact that these guys don’t have hands. Do you know how many gentle things I could draw if they had hands? You can’t lovingly hold someone’s face without hands, you can’t intertwine your fingers with them, you can’t hug them without arms. So. Yeah. The audacity! /lh

(Come to think of it, Maizey and Gebra don’t have hands either. Shane Madej, sir, I am begging you, please give your LGBTQ+ characters hands!)

Here is another quote: “Let me give you a rundown of some of the sweet sweet sniffs I’ve been dancing with thanks to Scentbird.” Ugh it sounds so charming. It’s just such a charming way to put it. 🌻

He then lists some fragrances and I especially want to mention Confessions of a Rebell - Morning After, and the quote “hot nights never smelled so good”.

I AM ASKING YOU AGAIN

WHY

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME

And again, I won’t go into all the new headcanons and ideas and thoughts I have about these oars and here is the reason - I don’t know how many minors are following me. Like, I don’t want to make this stuff sound too lewd or crass because I think that queer sexuality is already too often seen as something “dirty” instead of something perfectly okay and natural. Still, I will keep some of my thoughts to myself. Let’s just say, I am very fond of... all of this. 😊

Annnnyyyyways, Sword Oar lists a whole lot of other stuff, and I know that he has to talk about the sponsor, but what I am getting from this is, the guy really likes his scents.

He mentions amber+leather, he mentions lavender, and he mentions Gendarme - Sky which is a “complex and sultry blend of bergamot, cardamom and aged leather”, and I now have a few more ideas about what Oar Oar smells like. (Personally, I like “masculine” scents. Wood, leather and the like.)

Watcher has a code again (you can get 30% off). ✨

The last thing I want to mention is this: “you delicious thing, you”. I am not entirely sure if he is talking to the Professor or the audience but I am okay with both. Because a) I already have a headcanon about the oars and the Professor (which I will not talk about here because, again, there are probably some minors following me) and b) ... oh to be called a “delicious thing” by an anthropomorphic gay oar. 😘

That’s it for now. I spent the better part of three hours with this and hey, if you want to do me a favor, be kind to a queer person today (and if you are any flavor of LGBTQ+, please be kind to yourself - you are wonderful). 💖

I did not mean for this whole text to be this emotional and sometimes sad but I don’t mind it either.

Thanks for reading! ✨💕

❤️ 💛 💚 💙 💜

Also, here is some of my older art. Seemed appropriate. ^-^

#watcher #puppet history #gay oars #autisticwatcher #the professor #shane madej

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shadowturtlesstuff · 3 years

Note

Can we have one where Cressworth adopt a child? 🥺❤

okay so, little late but I am very slow at things and I also forgot that I wrote this. It's them deciding to adopt instead of them adopting and its loosely based off paper rings by Taylor Swift.

I pierced through the skin of the body below me, the coldness seeping into me and I fought the chill that threatened to escape. We were in Thomas’s private laboratory and I ignored the urge to clean it. I have been here before, cut open a body here before and it still shocked me at how different it felt. Thomas was normally a well put together person and this laboratory did not reflect that sentiment. Yet it also seemed to fit perfectly. Thomas let out a low whistle as I carved the body. We needed to find the cause of death, as well as take out the kidney. The familiarity of this settles in me and we work together to take out the organ and write our notes for uncle to look through later.

Once we finish and clean all our equipment and place the sheet back over the body I follow Thomas upstairs. We sit in the kitchen, and I watch as Thomas makes us coco. My favorite thing about his flat in London is that there are no servants, it is just us. In this small flat in perfect bliss. We can sit in our bloodied aprons, or talk about bodies without having to stop so we don't upset our staff. Thomas can wrap his arms around me and kiss me all night right in the kitchen if he wished. We were not in our aprons, we left them in the laboratory, but I did feel like having Thomas's arms around me. Perhaps I will tell him to forgo the coco and for us to just go straight to bed. Before I could even say anything he placed a mug in front of me and a kiss atop of my head.

“Tired my love?” he asks as he takes a seat next to me. His hand finds my knee and he rubs small circles over my scar whilst he takes a sip of his drink. I hum a response as I drink my own drink, the warmth of it sweeping through me and replacing the horrible coldness that still lingered. We sit for a few minutes in silence, perfectly content. We have done this many times since being married and being able to live together. My own hand finds his, the one rested my knee and I take it and trace my own circles. It had been a very long day of dealing with people. Specifically obnoxious imbeciles of the Scotland yard. We had another murder on our hands, middle class man who was poisoned. Yet the Scotland yard wanted nothing to do with it despite it being their job to deal with murders. I hated how those men reacted to things, to me. Thomas could walk in there and tell them the murderer with zero evidence and they believe him but I give one theory and they mock me. We did not need the Scotland yard but uncle says we must keep a somewhat healthy relationship with them if we want to investigate for ourselves. Thomas sets his now empty mug down and gives me a warm smile and it relieves some of the tension I have been holding onto. I finish my own drink and place it down, giving him my own tired smile. Thomas takes both mugs and moves them to be washed later on and then returns to me by wrapping his arms around my waist and enveloping me in his warmth.

I lean into his touch and he rests his head on my shoulder. He kisses my temple and murmurs “I'm proud of you.” then he moves further down kissing my cheek. “Today lasted forever, I just wished we remained in bed if I knew that was going to be the case.'' I roll my eyes at his dramatics but don't dispute him. Especially as his lips find mine when I twist to look at him. He presses a light kiss but I deepen it, curling my hands in his hair. He pulls back before I am ready to let go and I let him know that with a whine.

“We will get through to them, it may take time but we will.” I sigh against his lips. I hope he is right.

I bury my head in his shoulder and he tightens his grip so he is hugging me. I fit perfectly in his arms and it takes away any other thought I had. All the fears leave me as I gain strength from the love his hug gives me.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,my love.” Thomas says as he lets go of me to sit back on his seat. Concern floods me and I take Thomas's hand to steady me. Steady us it seems, as he lets out a long breath. “You needn't worry to much, it isn't necessarily that bad but well-”

“Thomas what is wrong?”

“I went to the doctors some time last week, and a day prior to today, and truly it is nothing at all to be concerned about but it appears I may not, we may not be able to have children.” The words hit me and I tried to search for a reaction. We haven't discussed children but I think we both wanted them. I would've loved to see Thomas holding our child in his arms, and would've loved to do the same. But if it was not possible-

“That means I get you all to myself then?” A half joke, half question and full realization. He lets out a small laugh, this has been eating him up for a while now so I squeeze his hands and he has to look away from me because tears are forming. I can feel my own throat tightening. “My love, look at me.” I move so I'm standing at his side and I wait till he drags his eyes to me. I take his face in mine as he quietly apologizes to me.

“Wadsworth,” my family name, the one he used to use to tease and flirt with me, i haven't heard him say it in so long, “i know that it would have meant the world; i wanted-” he stops himself as he cries trying to compose himself. The sight makes me burst.

“Thomas, it will be okay,” I repeated his words earlier with a kiss to his temple. “We needn't have children to be happy. I have you already and sir Issac and I am sure we will find ways around it.” He is still shaking his head and I have begun crying with him. We moved until I sat on his lap, his head buried into my shoulder, fingers digging into my back. I do the same. We hold each other for a while, Thomas's hand moving so it brushes against my scar on my leg, memories of the Eurita surly flooding his mind adding to his guilt.

“I am so sorry about everything Wadsworth.”

“It is Cresswell. Do not apologize to your wife when there is seldom a reason. I do not ever hold you responsible for my mistakes on the Eurita and I will never hold you responsible for this either. It is out of your control, my love, please do not harbor any guilt.”

“I know, I know,” his voice is hoarse and rough as his eyes meet mine, his brown eyes filled with pain, “you would have been the perfect mother.”

I smile brightly. He would've been the perfect father. I have had dreams of him playing with our children, with sir Isaac as I watched the love shine in his eyes. They'd adore him. I pictured them sitting by the fire as he taught them how to read; then we'd put them to bed and he'd hold me tightly in bed, telling me about his day with the children even though I was there.

“You would have been amazing too, if you spoil them half as much as you do the cat or me then they'd absolutely adore you.” silent tears stream down his face at the thought of what we could have. I wipe them away, caressing his cheek lightly as I place a kiss to his forehead, cheek and then his lips. We linger, mere inches away from each other and I smile at my husband. A man full of love when the world seems to want to take it from him. He takes my hand and smiles back.

“I love you. Thank you for understanding” he breathes and I feel it wash over me and attach to my bones.

“I love you too, Cresswell. I will stand by you no matter the complications, even if you commit some crime and we must perform a daring escape.” that earns a light laugh from him.

“You are truly the best thing in my life. I- Audrey Rose, I may never truly understand why you put up with me, but I will be forever grateful.”

“Does it help if I tell you that you treat me like your equal, like you promised at our wedding, and that you have shown me everyday how good it feels to be loved and to love, and that you are the best thing in my life too.” he searches my face for his usual tells in people, in whether they are being honest with him, but he find none. He presses a kiss to my lips, one that tells me all his worries and tells me how much he loves me. I kiss him back just as hard as he deepens the kiss and wraps his arms around me.

I pull back from his, determined to cheer him up before we retire to bed. “This means we should get sir Isaac a friend. Thomas there is also adoption we could consider. Not right away, but one day, perhaps when we aren't befriending killers every other week, we could adopt a child.” I had only just remembered adoption. It may be our only way to raise a child but I would still happily do it. We could still experience the joys of raising a child even if it is not our own. We would make it a part of this family. As we had made each other family.

“I'd like that, one day, i still have that crime to commit and we still need to perform that daring act.” We laugh, the tension in us both relaxed as I begin to stand up and stretch my leg slightly. Thomas offers me my cane that was by him and I take it, tracing over the engravings at the top. Over the years Thomas has brought me many canes but I seem to always use the first one he gave me, the one with his family crest. The one he put his heart into knowing I very may well run off with the Eurtia. I smile at the memory of him giving this to me.

“My love, I know we live a life of luxury and I spoil you often, and that our official wedding was fancy but not of that matters, I’d marry you with paper rings, I would happily live without all this so long as I had you.”

“As would I, my love.”

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @ink-insomnia @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto @bookscressworth @androgynousdeputylawyershoe @fandomtakeover @throneoftsc

#sjtr #hpd #efh #ctd #btdp #cressworth #audrey rose wadsworth #thomas cresswell #cresswell #wadsworth #sir issac #paper rings #taylor swift

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urlocalnctstan · 3 years

Text

𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Genre : Angst, Fluff, Slow-burnish, Idol AU

Pairing : Jaehyun x Reader ft.Mark (other members too)

Warning(s) : strong language, age-gap, mature contents, weird writing style lmao, uh what else? idk but yeah

Disclaimer :The story is completely fictitious, idol-fan relationships are not common so some of you crazy ones out here, pls don’t get too delusional, your oppas will be your oppas only virtually, not in real life.

Playlist : Youtube Link / Written

Word Count : 5.4k

Summary : ‘Time and tide waits for none’- a quote that is universally accepted and believed. You both had had your experience of meeting the right one at the wrong time, the concept of love long forgotten after the sudden downfall of your relationship together. But will time eventually heal everything for you both?

The car came to a halt, your mind subconsciously drifting back to the humiliation you faced tonight back at the office.

“ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB, Y/N?” your boss was a fuming mess, his whole office scattered with the documents you had brought just a few moments ago. At the sight of the shredded papers, you felt you heart clench. You worked so hard for this project, disregarding God knows how many nights of your sleep. The feeling of abomination was slowly creeping up from the pit of your stomach towards the man who stood taut, seething in rage.

“HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO JUST DO WHAT THEY ASKED YOU TO?” He yelled, his fist furiously banging on his wooden desk, beneath his hand rested some pieces of the torn documents.

“Sir, even you know how risky it is to design as they asked to. If a blunder happens it is our company that is to be held accountable, not theirs.” you knew it was pointless to reason with the stubborn headed prick, but you had to try out your luck.

“Get out. Out, out, out. Get your fucking face out of my face.” He swished his index finger repeatedly, letting out a frustrated shriek just as I was about to exit his office. His wrath was nothing new in the office, as all the other employees shot me a rather pitying look when they saw me exiting the team leader’s office with hands full of ripped papers. Wow, my 2 weeks worth of sleep. Just wow. You didn’t bother to reciprocate their sympathetic glances, storming out of the corridor as you furiously started clicking the floor to your cabin. The jabbing of your finger on the glowing button that read ‘13’ was the only sound that resonated in the fairly empty area, earning annoyed looks from the two individuals who stood right behind you.

“Ah, fuck.” You banged your head against the steering, recalling the even as you clutched the handles harshly. “Why,” another bang. “do I,” bang. “live like” bang. “this,” bang. You could feel your face was burning without even touching it, streams of tears flowing down. Just as you were about to give yourself another bang, the sudden honk of a car made you pause amidst your ritual. Indeed all motherfuckers love to test my patience. You decide to ignore the rider, mainly because you were also partially at fault for resting in your car in the middle of the park. You twisted the metal keys as the ignition went off, signaling your car was ready to flee. Yet again, you were distracted by soft knocks. You prayed to God to help you not lose your shit, at this point you were questioning if He ever hears your woes at all. The soft knocks stop immediately when you started to pull down the window, the person straightening only crouch again.

“Y/n?” his called out unsurely, as if he were afraid of mistaking you for someone else. You knew that voice, and that is not good news. Shit.

“Mark?” you were surprised to say the least, not expecting to run into an old friend. “Oh my god! How have you been?” You shoot out of your driver’s seat, instantly being engulfed into a bone crushing hug by the male.

“I have been good. Oh god, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I ran into you after so long!” Mark still held you tight your embrace, the sudden reunion making him feel giddy with excitement.

“Yes indeed,” you were the first to pull out from the hug. You took a moment to study him; black mask covering half of his face as he smiled widely, eyes crinkled and the signature cheekbones still the same as they were in the past. God, it’s really been so long. “What are you up to these days?”

“Er,” Mark scratched his head as he laughed nervously, unsure if he was allowed to give you spoilers about his new album. “I have been working on my solo album actually.”

“Are you for real?” You found yourself hugging Mark again at the joy of his successful career. “I’m so so proud of you mate!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Mark swayed you lightly, his voice muffled due to the mask he wore. Mark was the one to pull out now, still keeping your caged as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “In no way I am gonna let you leave without a trace again,” he almost groaned.

“Promise, I won’t anymore,” you signaled to the stack of files that rested on the backseat of your car. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll just ask your boss to assign you with more tasks then,” he giggled mischievously, earning a light smack from you at the mention of such an absurd idea.

“I’ll track your way to hell to kill you again if you do something like that,” you hissed at Mark, who was still giggling at your frustrated reaction. The atmosphere became quiet as Mark looked up in the vacant sky, deep in thoughts while you waited for him to continue. Your phone buzzed against your leather coat.

[From Bullhead] : Don’t think I am overlooking your mess. This is the first and final warning from me.

You shivered, half from the cold and half from the text you just received.

“26th, sharp at 8 PM, my place.” He snapped his fingers, hooting at the realization of having a free day in his busy scheduled life.

“Okay, done.” You should have refused, you thought. But for some reason, you found yourself agreeing to his offer, you felt both sad and guilty for disappearing out of your friend’s life without a trace. However, you couldn’t ignore the greedy feeling you felt, the want to see him again. “I think I should be done around...7:30? So I think I’ll be able to make it.” You unlocked and handed him your phone.

“You have to make it,” his eyes focused on the screen of your device, swiftly typing what you assumed was him number. “Just incase, text me if I happen to forget - no I know that look, Y/n, you must text if that happens..” He rolled his eyes, knowing that how much you would be overthinking about possibly tiring him because of his busy lifestyle. Mark dialed his number from your phone before handing it back to you. You visibly snickered at the name he saved his contact with : ‘My Boo MarkLee <3’

“Stop pretending as if you never renamed my existence as Markie Boo,” he groans, remembering how this has been his another one of the hundred pet names he had. Your conversation was cut mid way as his phone loudly vibrated in his phone, swiftly pulling it out as the guy whined in annoyance.

“Yo, I gotta go now I guess, something came up at the company.” He looked sad, pouty. “See you around, yeah?” You were pulled into another hug by the male, he surely loved to hug as usual.

“Yes, yes. Now go. Don’t be late.” You patted his back, pulling out of the hug and shooing him away towards his car.

“See ya, Mom.” He beamed as he sped off with his car.

“Dumbass.” You muttered, softly laughing at the name he would always call you by, despite being years younger than him. You rounded around your car, getting inside. The start was bad but the end was good nonetheless. The keys of your car jiggled as you closed the door. Again, you twisted the keys, your mood slightly better than before for which you were grateful. Your car’s ignition blared, as you positioned towards the exit of the park, subtly muttering ‘long ass ride.’

The digits ‘7:37’ glowed on the the small digital clock beside your desktop. You felt stiff, stretching your neck as your bones made those cracking noes. You stare at your toes, zoning out was your passion and you excelled at it. You snapped straight, letting out a deep sigh as you started to scheme the projects before you were to hand them over to your bullhead boss. Soon enough, you were done, muttering almost too loudly for everyone that you wished your boss would be napping off instead of being awake.

Good for you, your prayers were answered for the first time in a while. You quietly placed the files that contained all the details that needed to be checked again by your boss, quietly making your way out of his cabin as soon as possible. On you way, you informed his secretary you were leaving, her face wore distraught and annoyance but softens as she saw you approaching. Sometimes you felt sympathetic towards her, often asking the heavens to bless her with utmost patience and perseverance to deal with the bullhead.

The marble floor clicked with every step you took, the sounds eerily audible in the serene lobby. It was very rare for the lobby to be filled with people in evening, the employees would practically sprint off their seats as soon as the clock hits 7. You made your way out of the building, making a mental note to buy a gift for Mark on your way back to home. What would he like? Take outs? Homemade? Wine? You drove across the street before halting your car in front of the department store that was situated just a few blocks away from your office. The header of the store glowed, the alleys seemingly half-crowded with people of different occupations you assumed. You let out a hiss as you felt a chill run down your spine, it was almost the end of Autumn which meant Winter was just round the corner. You decided to rely on your instincts, deciding to gift your friend a fancy bottle of wine despite having zero knowledge about it.

You were never quite the fan of wine. According to you, the seemingly alcoholic drink was too expensive, plus the etiquettes that came along for its consumption would always just make your turn your head away every time you laid your eyes across one. You schemed through the white shelves filled with different tastes and colors of wine, each hailing from various corners of the world. “How do I even spell it?” You crouched down a bit to a bottle that had caught your attention, the exquisite name was starting to make your head hurt. It’s probably a white wine you thought, the transparent color of the liquid was what made you convince. But something rather nostalgic caught your sight, before you could even realize, you found your fingertips caressing the cold glass bottle of the red liquid that you held now.

“If were to be a drink, then what would I be?” You lazily laid sprawled across the couch in the living, while you boyfriend who sat on the marble floor across fumbles with the knotted bunch of cables. Jaehyun had his gaze focus of the wire maze in his hands, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted in immense concentration.

“Peach milk,” he smiled, unbeknownst to you he was actually implying a double meaning for his answer.

“And why that?” You felt his choice a bit amusing, not really expecting that as an answer.

“Because I love your ass and boobs,” he winked, only to be hit by a pillow that was resting beneath your curled legs. Jaehyun felt himself giggling by your reaction, it was cute to see you being annoyed. “Babe, c’mon. I can’t lie about it.”

“Never mind, just forget it.” You started to get a bit pissed, hurt as well because your sensitive ass thought he would probably say something sweet that would make you heart flutter.

“Peach milk is my favorite, that’s the main reason why,” Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the cables, the last two knots were too adamant to let go of each other. You felt yourself smiling, too wide, he definitely knew you well. Cheeky bastard.

“What about me?” he asked, eyes still focused as he working on untying the last knot.

“Hmmm...” you shifted your position on the couch, now sitting up as you stared your boyfriend’s figure for a short while.

“Red wine.” sophisticated, classy, unique, warm. If you were to describe the aura around him, these would be the first choices.

However, your answer seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention, pausing in his tracks as he got curious as to why the specific choice. He had a huge grin on his face, he adored how you remembered the specific detail of red wine being his favourite, for he mentioned it in your first date which was 2 years back. But he knew there was more to it. He knew you too well. “But why red wine?”

You kept your gaze fixated on Jaehyun as he gets up from the ground, putting the cables in a secure manner to avoid another tie war. He hugged the pillow tight which you had previously thrown on him, before propping down beside you on the couch with a tired sigh, looking at you intently. It was as if you both were having a staring contest. So you rested your head on your right hand, both staring each other with soft smiles before you continued.

“You are much more to what everyone thinks you are,” you notice how Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, still staring and trying to process what you just said.

“Just like wine, the more I know you, the more I know just how amazing you are. Both sweet and sour, but the balanced ratio of it is what makes you more admirable.” You admired how he was always able to balance things out, prior to what everyone believes about him, he had both good and bad sides to him. And that’s what made him more human, him acknowledging his flaws. That’s what made you fall for him.

Hearing you, Jaehyun thought he might dislocate his jaw anytime soon for smiling so hard. His heart started to do all sort of flips, ears starting to pink. It was at times like this when you don’t need words to express how you were feeling, silent but the communication was still present. Jaehyun slides his hand into yours, you glanced at both of your intertwined fingers before looking at him, his eyes full of hearts for you. You giggled, feeling shy at his intense stare but returning him the same way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his starry eyes which were only looking at you.

“Excuse me miss,” You jolt at the sudden change of voice coming from behind you. You whip around, a girl probably in her late teens stood nervously, her hands fidgets with the belts of her backpack.

“Miss, you were kinda in the way so..” you felt flustered for absent-mindedly drifting into your dreamland while shopping for your friend, chiding yourself mentally in the process.

“Ah, I am so sorry,” you moved swiftly to the side to allow the teen some space to carry out her shopping. “Please, carry on.” You smiled softly. Though at the back of your mind you wanted to point out how she shouldn’t be consuming alcohol, but disregarded the urge nonetheless. Sometimes children should get to enjoy their minimal amount of fun in their youth too. You were still clutching the red wine bottle in your hand, eyeing it one last time before placing it back in the racks. You cleared your throat, as if to let the voices speaking inside your head know that you are not a stupid 20 year old anymore. You shake your head, glancing around to inspect if others were judging your state before proceeding to the counter for the random wine you picked which might have cost you half of your monthly salary. It’s okay to spend once in a while.

Mark was literally running around his apartment. Running. His head shot up as he remembered something. “Shit, fuck, are the bathroom lights okay?” he murmured to himself, sprinting off to the bathroom that was located in his vast living room first, followed by the ones in his bedroom and guestroom. Mark was still a newbie to the norms of living alone, him being a newborn living-alone man for sparsely 2 months. And he would barely be home due to his schedules. There were even times he would just forget his own bedroom.

“What else, what else,” he glanced over the whole area eyes drifting here and there before he realized something. Dumbass forgot to check if there were even enough food for two. Mark quickly scurried to the kitchen counter, the utensils were more than enough before checking his fridge. Beers? Check. Soju? Check. Kimchi? Check. Slices of chicken breast? Check. But the 33 year old still felt something was missing. Mark shifted his focus on the wooden shelf that was just above the kitchen sink, the transparent glass door of it making a creak sound as he opened it. For an apartment who’s owner was barely home, the shelf was definitely well packed and organized. It contained all sorts of ramen, tteokbokki and any other fast food you could name. “What else, what else, what else, what else,” he kept chanting, as if by some magic his chants of short memory would be heard and he would know what else was he missing out. He hunched over the lower shelf to inspect if all the sauces his housekeeper stores for him were present there. Absorbed in his thoughts, Mark did not notice the sudden sound of his bell going off, before the sounds just got repeated and even more louder.

“What the fuck?” his eyebrows creased in annoyance, cussing out all the profanities he had in his vocabulary at the visitor’s insolent mannerism. Mark was beyond pissed, the person behind the other side of the door not only disrupted his memory battle but also had the audacity to ring the bell like a 3 year old in the middle of the night. Instead of just answering from the intercom, he directly opened the entrance door. “Look, it’s like 11 in the night - Hyung?” Mark halted his rant session as he realized it was Jaehyun standing in front of his house. Covered in black shirt, black mask, black pants - black everything, it would take a while for others who did not know him personally to recognize the member of the top boy group in the industry.

“Were you shitting or something,” Jaehyun smiled before casually giving his best friend a hug. Mark pulls out some of the spare slippers he had stored, while Jaehyun sits on the wooden step as he unties the knots of his black adidas. As Jaehyun get ups, he looks over to the other male standing in front of him, then down at the slippers and then again to the male.

“What?” Mark laughed, his hands shifting to the sides of his waist.

“Mark, please don’t go shopping by yourself next time,” Jaehyun silently judged Mark for offering him the fluffly colourful pink body and yellow polka dots slippers, similar to the ones he was wearing but the combination in opposite.

“I got them from the BOGO offer going on in the supermarket just down the lane,” Mark wiggled his toes under the furry layer of clothing, slightly humming at the texture. “Bro this shit comfortable and cute, you can’t deny that.”

Jaehyun gives him another look, amused at how his bandmate’s old habits were still the same. “I help you out with your fashion choices next time. Don’t worry.” He patted Mark’s should, a sympathetic grin on his face as he anticipated the other male’s dramatic reaction.

“Oh please,” Mark scoffed. “More like you need my and Johnny hyung’s assistance for your monotonous wardrobe!”

Jaehyun laughed at his friend’s rebuttal before lazily propping himself on the bean sack in the living room with a low hum. Oddly enough, Mark’s apartment felt more homely than his own apartment which was just above a few floors.

“But what brings you here?” Mark walks over to his fridge, judging by his friend’s sudden visit, he knew drinks had become a necessary part of the night. “And what about Hayoung?”

“What about her?” Jaehyun raised his eyebrow at Mark, skillfully catching the beer Mark had tossed to him after asking about Hayoung, Jaehyun’s, well complicated girl something.

“I though you guys might just....I don’t know, be official or something.” Mark stole a glance towards his friend, nervously opening his can. The momentary pin drop silence was an indicator, he indeed blurted something he should not have. The fizzy hiss of the beer can being opened barely broke the ice.

“I don’t do things like official,” Jaehyun scoffed, producing a low sigh after sipping the beer. Mark decided not to further press his friend, despite having an old unresolved grudge against Jaehyun somewhere deep within him. It had been years since all of that had happened, but he still felt hostility creep up inside every time he remembers that night, that week, that month. After all, it was you that Jaehyun had completely broken, torn and ripped apart.

Unbeknownst to the rummaging thoughts inside the mind of his bandmate, it took a while for the older to realize how oddly clean and organized the apartment looked. Jaehyun turned to Mark, eyebrows raised with mischievousness coating his words. “You having someone for the night tomorrow?”

Mark almost made a disgusted face but instead opted to scrunch. “Bro, I don’t have Tinder, neither do I wanna be a carrier of STDs.” Mark placed his empty can on the small glass table, simultaneously letting out a tired huff. Jaehyun almost took an offense to the statement, the attack was definitely but indirectly made towards him. But he decided to shrug it off, Mark was not lying after all. Jaehyun did not even know half of the girls’ names he had slept with, someday or another mixing up names which ends in him getting kicked out or being cursed out. That was what had happened that night as well.

“Okay, I forgot. Hayoung, yes. Speak.” Jaehyun shot an incredulous look to the younger, as if he was able to read his mind or something. Mark only furrowed his eyebrows at the reaction.

“I-I....got kicked out,” Jaehyun’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the sharp eared male was able to catch his friend’s low murmur. Mark stifled his giggle, only to receive a glare from his friend. Jaehyun ran his fingers through his newly dyed lilac hair. Fucking embarrassing.

“But what made her do that?”

Jaehyun felt chills run down his spine as the scenario replayed in his head. He shivered despite the heater being on, an amused Mark glancing while chugging down the small remaining amount of beer. Mark was being a gentleman trying to conceal his laughter as Jaehyun rambled how he managed to fuck up yet another good hook-up buddy. At this point, Mark was not even surprised. Victim to his obvious facial expressions, Mark hated lying, and equally hated being lied to as well. Jaehyun side glanced his friend, a loud annoyed snort escaping from him. “Having fun, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean it’s fun — sorry,” Mark clears his throat. He should be the type of friend who gives advices instead of laughing. Mark wiggled in his seat, distorting the empty can before having a perfect shot in the trashcan just a few feet away from him. Smooth one.

“I think I might retire, or just quit after the current contract ends,” Jaehyun felt tight, the words came out from him in a way too suffocating form. Mark visibly tenses, his laidback posture now crouching forward to his friend. Mark was too pre-occupied in his escalating solo career, the support he had been getting even before the official stage was way too much for him to fathom, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. A stinging guilt crept up inside him, chiding himself of being such an inconsiderate friend. “It’s high-time I start to live on my own accord.”

Mark decided to rather not pressurize the half-drunk dude with his numerous questions as to why or what has made him to take such a step. Jaehyun struggled to keep his eyes open, exhaustion was taking over his body ever faster now that he had booze in his system. Jaehyun would have rather opted to just spend the night on the couch (he preferred Mark’s limited edition long L shaped sofa over any king sized bed) but the guy decided to not get welcomed by his mate as ‘good morning.’ Mark put a hand on Jaehyun’s knee, an attempt to stop the non-stop stomping which was a very well-known drunk habit of him. Piling the blankets he just brought, the younger warned again, eyes like red lazer lights before trudging towards his bedroom.

Feet wobbly, Jaehyun struggles to drag his build to switch off the remaining lights in the living room, glancing throughout the long empty space. He gulped down harshly, the familiar empty feeling creeping back to him which he had been avoiding for so long — for years. Jaehyun took a deep sigh, the heavy feeling feeling weighing down his chest as he took light steps towards the big glass window which granted him the view of the whole city. His eyes flickered at the luminous sight. He felt big but small, full, content but numb and empty.

“Hyung, you’re still awake?” a sleepy voice spoke from behind, breaking out Jaehyun from his trance.

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to process an answer. “Uh yeah. just like that. You go sleep.”

Mark shrugged, walking towards his bed as Jaehyun plopped down harshly on the duvet, wincing slightly as he felt a sprain in his lower back. With the alcohol slowly losing its effect on him with each passing second, Jaehyun started to feel more sober, more drawn back into the reality. He hated it. This feeling he was feeling.

Mark was having a rather difficult time to fall asleep. He even put on a random sleeping eye mask he uses for travelling, but alas that did not help either. He was too giddy, too excited for tomorrow. Pulling up the blankets over his head, Mark was assured he was safe from everyone, even maybe from God as a huge grin breaks out on his face. As much as he hates to admit it, Mark loved how things turned out to be the way they were.

“Oh god, this is so awkward. Oh god can I please please just die already?” Mark halted on his steps at the voice, glistening in sweats after the recent stage. He thought it would be an adventure to opt for the public washroom in disguise since the green rooms’ ones were all occupied by the rest of the members; and boy, Mark was really giving his all hold his pee.

“OH GOD!” the sudden yelp caused the male to shriek quietly, muttering an inaudile ‘jesus’. Despite the odds, Mark decided not to test his luck, holding in the bubbling feeling just before explosion as much as he could. Muttering quiet curses, the male struggled to hold his posture as he stealthily tried to get to the other side of the stairs. Too busy in his on the way to urination voyage, Mark realized it was too late, he bumped. Bumped into someone. A girl. Hell yeah fucked. Panic crept at the back of his throat as he anticipated what was coming forth. Him being surrounded by numerous fan as he desperately tries to hold his pee. What a fucking sight.

“Look, I know you might be a staff or something,” Mark whipped his head at your voice. “But please just oh god,” you rambled, leaving the man standing with his legs crossed tightly in utter confusion. “I had no idea — Mark Lee?”

The colors from his faced drained, Mark turned casper for a split second.

“PLEASE!” he was quick to react, half-whispering as he desperately caught your hands. “Please don’t just, uh.., shout or something.”

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “I uh have no reason to do so?” You stated, observing how he was literally squirming, it did not take you long to understand that the canadian needed to go the washroom as soon as possible. ”Oh!” You quickly moved. “Sorry for blocking your way!” Before he could even say thank you, you disappeared without any trace. Mark made a quick mental note to thank you, well that only if he ever happens to cross paths with you again. And deep down, he wised he would. On the other hand, you let out another distressed growl, promising to all of the heavens that never will you be ever accompanying your cousin sister, or let alone come to any concerts from now on. The stunt your drunken cousin had pulled just a while ago was humiliating enough, but of course, she had to spice it up by vomiting on the hallways just in front of the green room. You silently prayed and hope with all your might that maybe they will be generous enough not to sue you or ask for compensation for the mess, looking around cautiously for any employees before you sprinted off for the exit door, and yes, dragging the passed out stunt lady.

Mark felt as if he had a halo above his head, the water balloon inside him finally set free. But he had to race when he saw his phone buzzing with notifications, all of them belonging to his manager or the group chat of the members chanting same syllables ‘Where are you’ ‘show starts in 2′ ‘get yo ass here’. It did not take the rapper too while before he reached the green room, the makeup artists and stylists immediately wrapping themselves around him with brushes and hair sprays. He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he replayed the encounter he just had. Johnny raised an eyebrow with an amused grin on his face.

“What’s with the smile, bro?” Johnny pulls up some random exercises to relieve the tension in his muscles.

Instead of dodging his question, Mark replied, still smiling, but wider. “The pee voyage was a nice one.”

Johnny judged the younger for a second before chuckling and heading towards the stage. The loud noises from the fans echoed throughout the whole arena, full of green lightsticks gleeming like blossoming spring garden. No wonder I called them grass, Mark thought. But today, he was looking for a rather specific individual, his eye scanning almost all the faces in the crowd. He hoped to see you again, smiling gleefully as he performed, but thought that it was too greedy of him to want this much in a span of a day. And so he performed, for the first time without any pressure of doing good, enjoying every moment of the stage he was on and yet again, wished that maybe, maybe your paths will collide with his again.

part 2

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone.

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden.

Genocide, basically.

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara.

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart.

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs!

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable.

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story.

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.)

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play.

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR.

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops.

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+.

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots.

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.)

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

#supergirl: woman of tomorrow #long post #dc comics #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #kara zor el #comic thoughts #comic opinions #just occurred to me I should be crediting the creative team in these things #I think thus far I've included every title page?#still #will try to be better about that going forward

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cedric-stories · 3 years

Text

A Garden Date (Cedric x Reader)

(i was going to attach a picture of a garden but couldn’t find one that matched the one in my head. So, imagine, if you will, a secret beautiful garden.)

Reader pronouns: she/her

Plot: It is getting later in the evening in Enchantica. You just got off work and are heading to your room. Working as a nurse in the castle is no easy task. Everyday there is some new major injury. Either someone breaks a leg or gets caught up in a magical curse. As much as you don’t like to admit it, curses were always your favorite. Take today for instance, a royal guard had come in with an unusual frog in his throat.

Author’s note: I am in college to become a nurse is where the weird job comes from, lol. I thought this would be kinda cute but it’s also kinda a dumb fic. The ending has been something I’ve had in the back of my mind for years (like six years) and I just now have given my writing skills a chance to create it. Hope y’all like it! Also, the nurse at the front desk thing is from a few experiences that have happened with my ex and I, people bug the crap out of me sometimes, lol! Hope there isn’t too many grammar issues.

This will probably be the last fanfic for a few days! I need to get the rest finished. I have like three in the works but who knows when i’ll be able to finish them!? I’d say give me around 4 days to finish???

Warnings: Again, I’m sorry for the make out stuff. Just a little this time though.

Word Count: Around 1,800

A Garden Date

“And what seems to be the problem, sir?” you asked the man sitting in front of you.

“Well, I seem to have this cough. It started late last night, and it hasn’t let up.”

“Let me see. What does it sound like?”

“Um, well, it sounds a little like a frog.”

You tried to contain your joy. “A frog?” you ask, turning to the side to get the phone.

“Yes, I know it sounds weird, but it started to- “he was cut off by a loud RIBIT coming out of his mouth.

“Oh my. I’ll get something to help right away!” And with that, you scurry off to the nurse’s break room.

You grab your cell phone and begin dialing. You heard it pick up.

“Well, hello, Y/N. It’s nice to hear your voice so early in the day.” The man said answering the phone.

You felt a knot curl in your stomach.

“Hi, Cedric. How are you?”

“I am very well, just finishing up a few orders. What makes you call?”

“Well,” you begin with a breath, “I have this patient that came in. He seems to croak like a frog every time he speaks, and I was wondering if you could fix it?”

“Of course, I’ll be down in a few minutes. Was that all?”

You knew he could tell by your tone of voice there was more you needed to say.

You looked around the office for a minute then closed the door.

“I really miss you. I guess I’ve grown very attached to my royal sorcerer.”

Cedric didn’t answer for a minute. You loved doing this. It was always so easy to get him flustered.

“I-um-I missed you too, sweetheart.”

“If you’re not busy tonight, how about we go on a date?”

“I’d like that, but where?”

You thought about it then answered, “How about the gardens? Maybe around 6?”

“Well then, 6 it is, angel.”

You tried not to blush. “Alright, see you soon with that potion as well, okay?”

“Oh right, yes, see you soon. Love you, Y/n.”

“Love you too.”

It was about an hour later when Cedric came by the office.

“Yes, and you have a potion for what?” The nurse at the front door questioned him.

Cedric sighed

“I have an elixir for Y/n’s patient with the frog in his throat.”

The nurse gave a quizzical look.

“Oh really? And what is your elixir going to do for him?”

“It is going to heal him, ma’am.” Cedric answered her, getting rather annoyed. “And for your information, it will not only heal him but heal twice as fast as any human ways possible.” He added with a smug look on his face.

She just looked at him with no expression. “But what is the point of you going back there to give it to the nurse who requested it?”

“Well, because I’d like to see my- “

“Girlfriend.” You said walking over to Cedric and the woman.

The nurse looked shocked.

“You’re his” she paused, “girlfriend?”

“Yes I am.” You replied happily, wrapping both your arms around the man.

Cedric gave a goofy look and returned the gesture with a hug.

“Well, I guess I just did not imagine someone like you with someone like him.”

Your eyes widened and you put a hand on your hip.

“And why not?”

“Well, he just doesn’t look like your type.”

“How so?”

“He’s just different from you.”

“How?”

The nurse leaned up against the desk.

“well, he’s just not as attractive as you, that’s all.”

You were stuck with horror.

“Excuse you, ma’am, but you have no right to say such a thing. He is my boyfriend ad it is none of your business is he is as ‘attractive’ as you’d imagine him. He’s perfect to me.” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, love.” You and Cedric started walking away. Then, you grabbed him by the collar and decided to kiss him hard on the lips. You gave one last look at the nurse in front and walked Cedric to the backroom.

Once you had shut the door behind him, you grabbed him again and kissed. This time you both shared a long kiss that led to Cedric almost falling over a chair.

He blushed. “well, that was pretty embarrassing.”

You giggled. “It was pretty cute to me.”

Cedric looked down almost in shame for a minute then remembered.

“Oh, I have your potion.” He said, reaching inside his robe. “Here you go.”

You grabbed the bottle from him and set it down.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Cedric.” You teased, walking over to him, and putting your arms around his waist.

You leaned up and touched your nose to his, nuzzling with him a little.

“I can’t wait for our date tonight.”

Cedric got a bit flustered and breathed out a small laugh.

“I can’t either, love.”

You stood up on your tiptoes and gave him a kiss. Cedric replayed the kiss with running a hand through your hair.

“Cedric! My hair is going to be a mess.”

“Well, you will just have to live with that.” He retorted, continuing on. He kissed you once more then brushed your hair back.

“Cedric don’t- “You were cut off by the sensation of him kissing your neck.

You tried your hardest to hold back a moan as he continued.

“Cedric, you’re gonna get me in tr- “You heard the door creak.

The two of you parted as it opened. You tried fixing your hair slightly but only managed to smooth the top.

“I will see you tonight.” You said as he left.

“See you soon, darling.”

Cedric was leaving as Rachel, another nurse, walked in.

She smiled.

“Looks like someone was having a good time.”

“Oh, Rachel, can you please give this to patient 2?”

“Anything for you, darling.” She laughed, dramatically blowing kisses at you.

You rolled your eyes.

Now, we pick up where we left. You were heading into your room from a long day at work to get ready for your date.

Once you had gotten back to your room in the castle, you started a shower and quickly got your things together. You made sure to use a certain shampoo you knew he liked. After, you got dressed in a sky blue, silk sundress and brushed out your hair. You walked to the dresser to find your ‘princess’ (Author’s note: look up princess by Vera Wang. Best perfume there every was.) perfume and squirted about two pumps onto your wrists and behind your ears.

Before leaving, you had to decide how to wear your hair. After much debate, you decided on getting a black hair tie and putting it up in a ponytail. It ended up being a high ponytail, but you liked it a lot. Perfecting your makeup one more time, you left.

You left the castle in a rush. Once you were in the gardens, you tried finding the spot where Cedric was at. You wondered a bit deeper until you finally found a candle lit spot.

“there you are.” You greeted him.

“here I am.”

You hurried up to him and gave him a kiss.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

“so, have I, love, so have I.”

Cedric guided you to sit down on a blanket and then took out his wand. After saying a few words, an array of foods appeared next to you.

“If you are hungry, there’s plenty.” He smiled.

“I see, thank you so much, Cedric.”

Anything for you.”

The two of you shared a lovely dinner. You had a few sushi and veggie rolls. Cedric had poured two glasses of Sake and he toasted to a wonderful relationship with the woman he loves.

After dinner, you lied down, and Cedric did the same. Curling up to him, you began to speak.

“The stars are beautiful tonight, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they very much are. I must admit though, the stars are not the reason I wanted to go on this date.” He answered, wrapping his arm around your middle.

You hummed. “Well, I guess it’s just as added benefit then.” You laughed.

After a while, Cedric seemed to start to get a little restless. You felt a hand place on your other side and noticed a figure hovering over you. You dragged your hands up his sides to his chest and over his shoulders.

“It seems one of us are getting a little excited, huh?”

“Well, it may appear that way.” He said, bending down to kiss you.

You both started into a slow, passionate kiss and he began running his hands along your face. You moved your arms down to his lower waist and thought about going lower when you felt a snap under your head.

You sat up quickly to discover your hair tie had broken.

“Oh no.” you said, picking up the hair tie.

“I am sorry, love.”

Cedric sat there for a minute then suddenly you saw a lightbulb turn on.

“Y/n, why don’t you lie backwards?” He asked, repositioning to where you’d be laying in between his legs.

You looked at him and nodded.

Grabbing a few flowers, Cedric gestured for you to lay back and started running his hands in your hair. You felt him lightly push your shoulders forward and he scooted backwards. The next thing you knew, he was separating your hair out into three sections.

“What are you doing, love?”

He rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Nothing, now just relax.”

You felt hair start to fold over one another with something smooth poking the back of your neck in between folds. A few minutes past and then you noticed his searching for something.

“Do you need anything, honey?” you asked politely.

“No, no, not at all.” He replied, still looking for something. “Ah.” You heard him say in a tone indicating he found whatever he was looking for.

You felt a small tug on the end of your hair, then it gently flopped onto your back.

“Done, lovely.” He said, flipping your new braid forward. It was laced with pink and blue flowers.

“Oh, Cedric it’s beautiful!” You almost shouted.

“I know it’s beautiful, it’s you.” He said, kissing your head.

You kissed his hand. “Thank you.”

Cedric ended up wrapping his arms around your waist and started kissing your cheeks, then your ears (making you giggle), then down your jaw.

“Oh, please Cedric, not here.” You pleaded as they began getting lower.

“Better here than the office, I presume.” He began kissing at the base of your head down your neck.

You couldn’t help but shift towards the feeling and let your body shiver twice as he continued. He reached the hallow of your neck and you moaned softly. You began pushing up against his body when a thought reached your mind. It between sighs you spoke.

“Ohhh, Cedric?” You asked, twisting your upper body towards him, only to have him switch sides of your neck.

He only replied with a humming noise which sent shocks up your spine.

“Can I come home with you tonight?”

This finally got Cedric’s attention, getting him to stop only for you to begin kissing his cheek.

He looked down at you.

“If-um-if you want to…I’d enjoy that.” He stammered out.

You sighed again. “Oh, I would love too.”

#Cedric the sorcerer x reader #cedric the sensational x reader #cedric the sorcerer #x reader #getting used to writing #new fanfic writer #sweet #fluff #part of my childhood #so many stories so little time to tell them #hope you enjoy

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justforbooks · 3 years

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Fifty Great Classic Novels Under 200 Pages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

George Orwell, Animal Farm (1945) : 112 pages

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

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

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

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

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

Nella Larsen, Passing (1929) : 122 pages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kate Chopin, The Awakening (1899) : 128 pages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anna Kavan, Ice (1967) : 158 pages

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

Jean Toomer, Cane (1923) : 158 pages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Djuna Barnes, Nightwood (1936) : 170 pages

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

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

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

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

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

George Eliot, Silas Marner (1861) : 176 pages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leonard Gardner, Fat City (1969) : 183 pages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin (1957) : 190 pages

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

Charles Portis, Norwood (1966) : 190 pages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome (1911) : 195 pages

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

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

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

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

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

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acraftedmistake · 3 years

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A Person Who Has Never Played MCSM Writes A Story About MCSM Chp. 14

HAHAAA BACK IN BUSINESS BABY!

Hope you enjoy this one!!

Jesse sat against the broken column by the shrine’s entrance, a breeze brushing against his face. He brought his eyes up, looking at the clear blue sky through the ravine’s crack and listening to the faint conversations coming from inside the shrine. There was nothing for him here.

No answers to Lukas’ whereabouts, nothing about what The Awakening was planning next, the only thing these past few gatherings have given him was discomfort.

Nell was usually the one to talk him into attending each Gathering, but she was sick today. This was his first time coming here alone, and hopefully his last. Being by himself made him even more aware of how everything felt… Off. Whenever members saw him walk in, they’d stop by his seat to say hi and talk about what’s going on, if he was enjoying his visits, simple small talk. However, something everyone seemed too comfortable with was how close they’d get to him. Jesse was never too big on people being near or putting their hands on him, the only exceptions being a quick handshake, a pat on the back from his friends, or Aiden messing with his hair to annoy him. Those were harmless and only lasted a moment. But whenever Jesse would step into the shrine, he'd see a few people’s faces light up as they’d walk over to him with arms open wide, ready to hug him as if they were best friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. They’d pull him close, place their hand on his shoulder as they spoke about their day, and refused to loosen their grip even when he asked. Some people would look genuinely hurt when he pulled away.

There would be nights where these Awakening individuals, Nell included, would spot Jesse on the streets. Those were the worst days. The way they’d look at him with big, bright smiles that stretched from ear to ear, walking up to him and asking if he was coming to this week’s Gathering made him feel terrible. He didn’t want to keep coming, he already felt like he was betraying his own friends, but he was afraid of how the members would react if he refused to return.

He knew the members meant well and were just trying to be nice, at least, that’s what he believed, but they’re all so unaware of how horrible their leaders actually are.

“No, they aren’t called ‘leaders’,” He remembered Nell telling him before one of the Gatherings, “they’re Visions! They look after us.”

Brenner and Mahlon, the ‘Visions’, the individuals who preached about helping others, the individuals who gave guidance to their members and offered their support during trying times were the same individuals who unleashed their horrific lava creation onto the world. They were the same people who took away lives and watched the world burn with no remorse.

They were terrible.

Jesse had watched the older, white haired Vision--the man who had screamed vile curses at him and his friends--happily play with children outside of the shrine. He’d sit on the grass and tell them stories about The Awakening and The Hero after the Gatherings were over. It was so surreal to witness.

The Visions might’ve fooled these misguided people, but they haven’t fooled Jesse. He was waiting for someone, the leaders, Cecil, anyone to slip up and reveal their next scheme, but nothing’s happened yet. If they haven’t hinted at anything these past few weeks who knows how long it’ll take them. Jesse can’t keep coming here forever. Aiden and Olivia had questioned why he’s been leaving the house more often, and who the blonde woman greeting him every now and then was. He knew the excuses: “I just need to clear my head” and “Someone I kinda know” will only last him so long.

Today was going to be his last visit. There was nothing for him here.

“Is all well?” Jesse heard an older man ask. He brought his head up. Standing over him was one of the Visions. Mahlon. The Vision’s head was tilted down slightly, his foggy eye focused more on the broken column rather than the boy below.

“Yeah--Yes, Vision… Sir.” When Jesse spoke the Vision lowered his head more, ‘staring’ more in the direction from where Jesse’s voice came.

“No need to be so formal.” The old man chuckled, “You can call me by my name.” Mahlon said as he sat besides Jesse.

“You’re Jesse, if I remember correctly? Our newest member?” Mahlon asked.

“Right.” Jesse said through gritted teeth, his body stiff as a board. He tried to lean away from Mahlon. Just the thought of being associated with these people made him sick.

“And how are you liking it here?” Mahlon spoke gently, his voice was slightly hoarse.

Jesse answered with a lie, “It’s nice here.” He was afraid of locking eyes with Mahlon. He was half expecting the man’s blindness to be another deceiving trick, but anytime Jesse glanced at him, he saw a genuine look of curiosity on Mahlon’s face, like he wanted to hear more.

The mixture of Mahlon’s pleasant expression and Jesse’s fear of upsetting him prompted him to keep lying. He lied about the new friends he’s made here, how each Gathering had connected with him, and how much their words meant to him. As he kept lying, Mahlon kept smiling. Jesse couldn’t take his eyes off of Mahlon’s burn scar. Most of the old man’s face had been taken over by this fleshy-pink scar that stretched from the bottom left of his face all the way to the top right in a somewhat diagonal manner. The only remaining visible parts of his white, porcelain skin was a small portion where his right eye was, his mouth--where his long, thin white beard covered bits of the scar--and the upper left part of his forehead. Jesse had also noticed that only one of Mahlon’s eyes could open properly while the left one was melted shut. Jesse, admittingly, felt terrible that he couldn’t take his attention away from Mahlon’s distortions. It’s disrespectful--well, it’s not like the old man would ever know where he’s staring, but it was disrespectful nonetheless. The only other feature that would occasionally distract Jesse from the face was Mahlon’s long, white hair which flowed like a candle’s fire in the wind.

Jesse’s kind words sparked a rambling from the old man. Mahlon began talking about everyone’s first visit, how their family welcomes anyone with open arms, the variety of celebrations they’ll have throughout the year to look forward to… These were more words to ‘help’ Jesse feel more ‘comfortable’ here, no doubt. As Mahlon spoke, he’d gesture with his hands. The long sleeves of his robe would flow along with his movements. His attire was similar to Brenner’s. Both wore robes that were a deep shade of red. The ends of the sleeves and the bottom of the robe itself were aligned with a golden yellow. Unlike Brenner’s, however, where the bottom of his robe--and the collar around his neck--had a small, triangle slit, Mahlon had none. Instead, he had a hood that was quite difficult to spot due to his thick hair covering it. Another element Mahlon’s robe had that Brenner lacked was a thick, V-shaped golden line around his waist that could be mistaken as a belt. If Jesse really concentrated on the golden parts of the robe he could make out a variety of tiny symbols--mostly being odd shapes and dashes--on them. Their color was only slightly darker than the yellow they were sewn into, making them easy to miss.

In all honesty, the robe was elegant. It was clear so much time and effort was put into making sure this wonderful robe fit this horrible man. Someone so vile doesn’t deserve to wear something so graceful.

“So what is troubling you?” Mahlon asked. “If you’ve been enjoying your time here, then why sit out here all alone?”

“How’d you even know I was out here?” Jesse tilted his head slowly, curious and a little disturbed.

“Cecil, the lad. He told me.”

Cecil. Of course. What else has he been telling the Visions? He’s probably been keeping them updated every time Jesse so much as scratched his head, but now wasn’t the time to get upset. Jesse needed to make an excuse. Any excuse, as long as it was believable.

“I’ve been...” Jesse swallowed, “Thinking about a friend I lost.”

That was meant to be a lie, but it struck Jesse that it’s been nearly a year since Lukas had gone missing. He started to feel queasy.

Mahlon’s smile faded and was replaced by a look of sorrow, “I see.” He said in a whisper.

There was a moment of silence. Jesse hugged his knees, and Mahlon faced forward and stroked his beard.

Mahlon turned to Jesse again and spoke carefully, “I’m terribly sorry about your friend.”

“Don’t be,” Jesse had to force his next words out, “it wasn’t your fault.”

“If I may,” Mahlon said, “I had also lost someone close to me.”

“You did?” The sinking feeling in Jesse’s stomach grew.

“Yes, he was our Sense before you came along.” Mahlon began, “He had been a wonderful friend of mine since I was a boy, and I fondly remember the excitement I felt when I heard the news that he had been selected as my and Brenner’s Sense. We were all overjoyed. Even after our ceremony, where we were expected to remain resilient leaders, it truly felt like nothing had changed between us. We were three friends who worked together and achieved our dreams. Frankly, the whole experience felt like a dream.” He let out a pleasant laugh as he rested his head on his hands. “Antonin and Brenner made the last ten years of being a Vision possibly the greatest years of my life.” There was a sparkle of joy in Mahlon’s eye, “You’d be surprised how short a decade feels when you’re my age. Oh, it all went by so fast.”

Mahlon’s mouth twitched and he let out a sigh, “And perhaps I should have been wiser; spend an extra few minutes talking to him during breakfast, join him when he was training with Brenner, ramble with him in the library for a moment longer. I was so certain time was on my side. I truly thought that nothing bad could have ever happened to him.”

Jesse listened to Mahlon, and how his voice would get lower the longer he went on. It'd crack and shake at certain points of his recollection, and that bit of light in his eye began to fade. A part of Jesse wanted to feel bad, the other wondered just how blind Mahlon was.

Antonin, this ‘wonderful’ man, surely couldn’t have been the same man who was running towards Jesse and his friends the night they were fighting the lava beast. The image of the man’s black hair flying in the air as he was rushing to them, his sword held high, his red cloak torn, and nothing but hatred in his eyes as he screamed bloody murder at them under the smoke-filled sky was fresh in Jesse’s mind. Maybe Mahlon never saw this horrible side of his friend. Maybe he refused to see it.

And then there was that word, “Sense”. Jesse had heard Radar mention the word in the past when referencing The Awakening, he’s also heard that word in passing conversations in the shrine. He remembered Nell telling him all about their ‘community’ one day before a Gathering started, and they soon got on the topic of Cecil. “...He’s also a leader,” Nell had said, “...but he mostly protects the Visions. He’s like their own personal guard.” Jesse could hardly contain his disbelief. He couldn’t believe someone like Cecil was now another leader of the Awakening.

‘What a downgrade.’ Jesse thought to himself. To think the Awakening’s past Sense--a broad madman who was dead set on killing Jesse’s friends when the world was falling apart--had been replaced by some skinny, sickly pale blondie who used to flee from a fight when things became a little overwhelming. Even Cecil’s attire felt less-than compared to the Visions’ and Antonin’s. His red cloak went a bit past his waste and had a golden collar with a small, yellow button keeping the cloak together. There were no fancy symbols on it either--at least none which Jesse could see. It was jarring to see such an uptight, boastful man wear something so… Plain.

“Oh look at me, acting like he’s died long ago.” Mahlon chuckled sadly, “It’s only been a year; minutes for me.”

“You’re a fine boy,” Mahlon fixed his posture and faced Jesse’s direction again, “I’m absolutely certain your friend was just as wonderful a person as you.”

“Thank--” Jesse quickly hid his voice crack with a cough, “Thank you. He was… He was the best.”

“Our bodies may die on this earth,” Mahlon slowly rose, “but our spirits live on in The Hero’s hands.” Mahlon offered his hand to Jesse, “Will you be joining our Gathering today?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Olivia woke up. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She did remember talking with Jess about what happened last night. They were on the bed, both worried about what was happening and about each other. Guess she just… dozed off. She felt well rested at least, that’s always important. What time was it though?

She sat up and ran her hand through her tangled hair before getting out of bed. Olivia dragged her feet across the guest room’s floor to the window and opened the curtains just a sliver. She peaked through the crack, hoping to see the sun and get a vague idea of what hour it was, but instead she was greeted with light gray clouds completely covering the sky. She didn’t see anyone roaming the streets, so hopefully it was still morning. That’s technically evening for Aiden and the others, isn’t it?

She still wasn’t used to this time difference. She didn’t want to get used to it. Her sleep schedule was already weird enough, she could only imagine how horrific it would get if she got adjusted to the hours here. And being active at night… The idea didn’t sound appealing to her at all. She thought back to the times she pulled all-nighters on projects, getting headaches from the bright redstone lamps shining down on her because the Sun had set and needing to leave the comfort of her own home and storm over to the nearest cave to find whatever material she ran out of before mobs would hunt her down. Those nights were the most infuriating, and she shuddered at the thought of living every single day like that. That’d be a life full of inconveniences.

“Hm…” Olivia looked around the guest room. Where was Jess? She would’ve definitely spotted him by now, or he would’ve given her a loud ‘Good Morning!’ from behind that’d always scare the socks off of her back when they used to live in the treehouse together.

The only place she could think of was downstairs. Maybe he’s having breakfast already.

Olivia quietly left her room, making sure to open and close the door carefully so she wouldn’t awaken anyone nearby. As she made her way down the stairs, she heard a faint conversation grow louder.

When she finally reached the end, she peeked over the wall and saw Jess and Aiden sitting together on the couch working on the flint and steel. They still didn’t seem too thrilled with each other, but it was much better than the anger and shouting from last night.

“Morning guys.” Olivia said as she began walking over.

Jess waved at her, “Morning!”

Aiden gave her a stiff “Hey.”, while he continued to focus on the tool.

“Is that the appropriate thing to say?” She asked Aiden, “Can I say ‘Good Morning’? Or do you have a special phrase for this specific time?” She sat down beside Jess, sinking into the couch cushion.

“ ‘Morning’’s uncommon, but it’s fine.” Aiden replied, “Most people usually say ‘Good day’ or somethin’ like that.”

She nodded then leaned closer to the table where the items and notes were placed, “Any progress?” She shifted around, trying to get a bit more comfortable, but felt grainy, sand-like particles stuck to her feet. She glanced at the floor to see redstone powder scattered everywhere. It clinged onto the ends of the couch and got stuck in between the cracks of the wooden boards. That powder was an uncomfortable feeling on the feet and a pain to clean up.

“It was kinda rocky at first, but we’ve figured out the notes with Radar’s help!” Jess started. While he wanted to show Olivia what they’ve accomplished, Aiden was still holding onto the flint and steel with one hand, and reading a page of notes in the other, so he decided to let Aiden be. “We coated the fire striker with redstone powder. It actually stuck to the metal pretty well, but we’re still being careful whenever we place it down. We also figured out we need to make this weird mish-mash of a gold and netherrack base? Mold? Something to fit the flint in--” Jess went on to describe their plans on how they were going to create a mold out of such odd materials when suddenly Aiden interrupted.

“Olivia,” He finally spoke up, “I--I’m sorry about last night.” He gripped the flint and steel so tightly he was afraid it was going to break. “I should’ve controlled myself better--I shouldn’t have told Jesse about you. I shouldn’t have even mentioned you.” He shot up from the couch and was fidgeting with the tool now. He kept running his free hand through his hair, not caring about the red powder getting tangled up with the strands. “I put you and Jess in danger when I just wanted to help. I know--” He swallowed, “I know you’re not from this universe, you’re not really my friends, but I still want to protect you. I wanna help get you outta this mess I started.”

Olivia stopped and stared at him for a moment, surprised by this sudden apology. She slowly clasped her hands together and blinked. “Aiden…” She said quietly, “It’s okay. I forgive you.” She didn’t realize how comforting that apology was. Even if the situation was looming over them, things felt a little better.

“We’ll figure a way out of this together.” Jess added in. “And uh…” He glanced at Olivia then at Aiden, “Yeah, I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday too.”

“No, you two don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Aiden pointed at Jess as he placed the tool on top of the papers.

“But I could’ve handled things better.” Jess mumbled and went silent for a moment. “Aiden, I know you want to protect us, but we’re able to help. We don’t need to be locked in here and supervised like children. We’ve saved the world--multiple worlds--multiple times. We can help! Heck, I’m the mayor of an entire town!” He exclaimed.

“I sometimes forget about that unfortunate fact.” Olivia commented, a little smirk on her face.

Jess turned around with his eyebrows raised high. He actually looks a bit offended by her joke. “And what do you mean by ‘unfortunate’?”

“Like I could forget the time you tried to decorate Beacon Town with lava-falls for Halloween.” She kept that playful but devious expression on. She propped one leg up and rested her arm on her knee, “You nearly burnt down a good third of the buildings.”

“I put it out!” Jess felt his face turn a light shade of pink. “Plus I was following Ivor’s advice! So the Halloween Incident was technically his fault!”

“Oh sure, blame the senior citizen.” Olivia chuckled. Aiden snickered along. Jess turned even more red as he tried to think of a witty comeback, but all he could do was give her a light shove then turn away, folding his arms and pouting like a little kid as he struggled to hold back his own laughter.

“Alright, but seriously.” Aiden was finally relaxed, “I was just worked up when I said that. We can take you two outta the house and wherever you need to be as long as you hide your faces well enough.” He went to the kitchen, “I’m gonna make myself some coffee. You two want any?” He looked back at Jess and Olivia.

“Yes please!” Olivia said.

Jess shook his head, “I’m alright, thanks though.”

Aiden took out a small saucepan and placed it under the sink. He turned the faucet on and kept an eye on the water’s level.

“Actually…” Jess perked up, “Speaking of lava, what did that lava monster you guys fought look like? I’ve been thinking about it ever since you’ve brought it up.”

“Now that you mention it,” Olivia said, patting down her frizzy hair, “I’ve been pretty interested as well.”

“Oh jeez.” Aiden sighed as he turned off the water and brought the pan to the stove. He turned the heat to medium high, the knob making faint clicking sounds with each number he passed. “Man, we could only stare at that thing for a couple of seconds or our eyes would’ve melted off.” As the water slowly began to heat up, Aiden turned to a higher cabinet and swung it open.

“I knew it had a couple of eyes and a bunch of arms.” He pushed aside a few items and stopped when he spotted a small, crinkled, light blue bag.

“How many?” Olivia asked.

“Hero if I know.” Aiden let out a laugh, “More than five. It’d drag itself around with them, one arm would merge into another, and then when that thing brought one of it’s limbs back into the air--” He raised one of his arms over his head attempting to recreate the motion, “--you could see the arm split up into two or three more. And when it’s claws would hit the ground it’d send rocks and magma flying everywhere.” He splayed his fingers out, “I know a good chunk of forests burnt down, and some houses in nearby towns too, unfortunately. The library almost got hit too!” He explained while he opened and closed multiple drawers, trying to look for something.

“And the sound. Sweet Hero, the sound. It’s one of those things I’ll probably never forget. I sometimes hear it in my dreams.” He finally spotted what he was searching for--a tablespoon--and closed the drawer. He opened his bag of coffee, scooped up a hefty spoonful of powder, and added it into the pan, getting a bit of the powder on the kitchen counter. “So it’d start off real low, right? Almost sounds like a rumble, but then it’d open it’s mouth more and more until it’d let out this roar that left us deaf for nearly a minute!” He added a few more tablespoons into the water and began mixing the contents together, “Hadrian told us the sound was enough to shake the buildings, and that it’s body was so bright they thought it was day! He and Mevia used to travel the world a ton and they told us they’ve never seen anything like that creature before.”

“That’s insane.” Olivia’s eyes were wide. “That thing sounds just as dangerous as Ivor’s Witherstorm.”

“Tell me about it.” Jess was thinking about what such a beast would look like. Multiple eyes, a giant mouth, enough strength to shake the earth with each step it took. He could only imagine how horrendous the damage must’ve been, the smoke that filled the air with the fires it caused, the ashes flying everywhere, it was probably hot enough to melt a person’s skin off if they were unfortunate enough to stand too close.

“Now,” Aiden said as he tossed the tablespoon into the sink, “how bout that Witherstorm of yours? What was that like?”

Jess thought it was only fair to share their tale now. He went into detail about how the Witherstorm happened in the first place, how it kept following them and destroying everything in it’s path, how they had to travel across the world to create a weapon strong enough to destroy it, only for that plan to fail and leading to Jess having to kill it from the inside. This soon led to Jess going off about Ivor and The Order of the Stone, the Ender Dragon, and how Jess and his friends discovered the truth about them. Every now and then when Jess would mention the names of people he’s met, he’d ask Aiden if he’s ever interacted with them in this universe. Aiden needed their physical appearance to be described to get a good idea of them, but most of his answers were usually: “Don’t know them.” or a “I think we might’ve met ‘em?”. The only names Aiden seemed familiar with were Isa, Harper, and Otto. There was a big maybe on Gabriel and Soren.

“Hadrian and Mevia might’ve known them, honestly.” Aiden said at one point, “They’ve met a ton of people when they were ramblers.”

As Jess and Olivia kept going back and forth talking about the Admins, White Pumpkin, and everything else they’ve experienced, Aiden would listen along and chime in with similar situations he and his friends went through. His reactions were definitely mixed when he learned about their Cassie Rose and what she’s done. There’d be points where all he could do was laugh over how bizarre the situation sounded, and other instances where he couldn’t react at all because of how… Unstable Jess and Olivia’s Cassie Rose seemed. Aiden eventually came back into the living room with two cups of fresh, hot coffee in his hands. He sat beside Jess and placed one of the cups on the table for Olivia. She gave him a quiet thank you as they both continued to listen to Jess’ stories.

Jess was sharing his experiences out of order, but he was finally telling Aiden about Hadrian and Mevia. How they ran these twisted games and how he thought Lukas and Petra were killed right before his eyes--when suddenly Aiden jerked forward and choked on his coffee.

He hurriedly placed his cup down--spilling a bit of his drink--and broke into a coughing fit. Jess patted his back a couple of times to try and help him.

“You--your friends with Lukas in your universe?” Aiden asked between coughs.

“Yeah,” Jess answered, “I thought we--” He froze. Oh no. They never… Did they never tell Aiden that they knew Lukas in their universe? Or maybe they did--but did they never mention that they were all friends?

“And he’s alive?” Aiden said, his voice a touch raspy from the strain.

“Yes--absolutely! He’s still in one piece! We met cause of the Witherstorm and got real close throughout all those adventures.” Jess was speaking so fast, “Argh, I’m sorry, I thought I told you this.” How could he forget to tell Aiden something as major as this? Especially after Aiden had told him all about the struggles he and his friends went through after their Lukas went missing.

“No, don’t be. I probably--” Aiden stopped to cough again, “I probably forgot. I sorta remember you mentioning I kinda sucked in your universe.” He grinned. There was a sad look in his eyes. “But are Lukas and I… Are we friends there?”

Jess didn’t answer for a second. In that second he thought back to Sky City; the hatred and disgust in Lukas’ eyes whenever he had to face or even acknowledge Aiden. He thought about the many letters their Aiden had sent over that Lukas threw away. He remembered Lukas’ curious expression contorting to pure anger when Jess had mentioned Aiden wanting redemption. He doesn’t--

“Oh, absolutely!” Olivia lied. “Sure you guys hit a couple of rough patches here and there, especially after the whole Sky City incident, but you two made up!”

Jess went along, “You two live pretty far away from each other, but I know you and Lukas like to hang out at this one restaurant at least once a month to catch up.”

“The Shulker Spices?” Olivia made up the restaurant’s name on the spot.

Jess snapped his finger, “Yeah, that one! Great stuff.”

“That’s good to hear… That’s probably the best thing I’ve heard in a while.” The soft smile on Aiden’s face faltered for a moment. Sure, he looked relieved, but Jess felt terrible. He hated flat out lying like this, but there was no way he was going to crush Aiden with the truth, and it’s not like he’ll ever know. They did the right thing. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Aiden’s body loosened and he let out a long sigh. “It’s been rough ever since he went missing.” He admitted, “Jess, you got a lotta good things back in your universe. Your friends are all still there, you’ve been able to take down any problems comin’ at you… I bet the people there must love ya.”

“But… Your friends love you too, don’t they?” Jess asked, gently placing his hand on Aiden’s back.

“Yeah--I didn’t mean to--of course they do!” Aiden quickly lifted his head back up, “And… You know…” His face got a little red, “I love ‘em too.”

Aiden went to grab his coffee to have another sip, “But you two need to get back to your universe. Once Rose comes back we can finish that flint and steel and get you two home.”

“Cassie’s still gone?” Olivia sounded concerned.

“She’ll be alright.” Aiden said, gesturing with his mug. “I know she can handle herself in extreme places like the Nether, but if she doesn’t come back by the end of tomorrow, we’ll have to hunt her down.”

The three sat on the couch, motionless for a minute, and couldn’t really think of anything else to talk about, so Jess and Olivia decided to finally make themselves breakfast. Jess helped himself to a couple of eggs; preparing a pan to scramble them in while Olivia mostly searched throughout the kitchen for ideas. She didn’t know what she was craving, she just knew she was hungry. As she scanned the contents of the pantry, something struck her.

“Sort of on the topic of questions, or--well, things about other universes…” She fumbled with her words as she reached inside to grab a small container of oatmeal, “I was wondering if there’d be anyway to, uh, see my place of death--my grave. If--if I have one.” She immediately held her breath after asking that question. She knew this was undoubtedly a personal thing to ask, but she’s been wanting to know for some time. She didn’t know when to ask before, and--and this felt like her only chance. She glanced at Aiden to see if he had heard her. He was staring right back at her, frozen in place with his coffee inches away from his face. His mouth was stuck open like he was in disbelief over what Olivia had just asked. Olivia even caught a glimpse of Jess being just as off guard by her question.

“I--We don’t--” Olivia stammered. She quickly turned away from the boys and tried to hide her face behind the pantry door, “We don’t have to! I understand if you don’t want to!” She said, “It might be dangerous to go outside anyways, I don’t mind if you describe it instead--”

“Is that what you wanna do?” Aiden asked, the energy of his voice absent compared to what it sounded like minutes ago. He set his cup aside and headed to the kitchen. To Olivia.

“Only if you think it’s safe.” Olivia’s voice was shaky. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. She shouldn’t have asked.

“If we go together,” Jess spoke up, “and hide ourselves, we should be alright.” He wanted to try and be supportive, but even he wasn’t too sure about this.

“Right.” Aiden said, focusing on Olivia. He folded his arms, “We’d have to do it soon. Today might be your only chance. If that’s where you want to go, I’ll take you there.”

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm olivia #mcsm aiden #mcsm jesse #mcsm mahlon #APWHNPMCSMWASAMCSM #UH super quick rambles but thank u to all the people who have been patient with this story!!#i was always real used to makin chapters like 10.000 words or more . especially when i was in the zone #and i always tried to put some big ol event to make things interesting #that i kinda gave myself this weird pressure that every chapter HAD to be like that or it'd be boring #or if i didn't reach this certain word amount i'd 'failed'#n writing just kinda became intimidating and i didn't know how to approach it for a while #things got better after some time gfdsfesdfgsf #just took some time to move away from those stupid standards i had set up for myself rip #but now!!!!!#writing again!!!!#thank u for tuning into tags and hope u enjoy story!!

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lilyvandersteen · 3 years

Text

The Christmas Guest Chapter 7

Author’s Note: Apparently, when I’m suffering from insomnia, I write very sleepy chapters, where Klaine take naps and drift off at a moment’s notice. Wishful thinking on my part, but I’m glad Klaine at least are getting all the sleep they need. So, enjoy some pillow talk and sleepy cuddles, I guess :-)

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 and Chapter 5, the Interlude and Chapter 6 here on Tumblr, or read the story on AO3 or FF.net.

Chapter 7: Nothing Better than the Real Thing

Kurt felt a soft warm hand caress his face and trace the contour of his body, and slowly stirred awake.

It was Blaine. Of course it was Blaine, they had been talking, but why was it so dark outside?

His muddled brain refused to work properly, but he did realize they’d have to get downstairs as soon as possible or his dad would think… Ugh, he didn’t want him to think anything like that ever.

He had meant to help Carole make dinner, but it was already done. His stepmom didn’t seem to mind, though, telling him a snowball fight and a nap after would cure that cold of his in a jiffy. And yes, he hadn’t been coughing or sniffling half as much as the day before, that was definitely true. But he’d been exhausted from the emotion more than the exercise that came before.

Kurt glanced at Blaine, who gave him a look that felt like a hug. A look that said, “Your secrets are safe with me”, and Kurt believed that was true.

As soon as they were all seated at the table, Blaine slipped his hand in Kurt’s and squeezed it lightly, the message of support more than clear, and Kurt sent him a grateful smile.

He didn’t fully cheer up until after dinner, when he got an invitation to Rachel’s New Year’s Eve party, but Finn nipped his joy about seeing his friends again in the bud by pointing out they’d all want to know everything about Blaine and how he and Kurt met.

Well. That was certainly true.

He saw Blaine’s eyes widen, his hands tremble and his color fade.

Oh, sweetie… I’ll make sure to keep you close at the party. I can bluff myself out of this. I’m good at improv. You have nothing to worry about.

But Blaine was truly rattled, and insisted on getting their story straight, so though it was still early, they both pleaded exhaustion and announced they were going to bed.

Burt fixed them with a stare. “If I let you sleep in the same bed, can I count on you behaving yourselves? No shenanigans!”

Blaine swallowed and nodded. “You have my word, sir… uhm, Burt.”

“Kurt?”

“Ugh, you’re embarrassing, Dad. But yes, I promise.”

Carole squeezed Kurt’s shoulder affectionately. “You do look beat. And no wonder, you’re still fighting against a cold. Yes, go to bed, and I’ll tell Finn to let you sleep in tomorrow. Do you need more lozenges for your throat?”

“No, I just drank about a gallon of chamomile tea, and my throat feels okay. Thanks, though. And goodnight.”

They escaped without any more comments from Burt, and Kurt slipped into his en-suite to shower and change into his pajamas, telling Blaine he could use the main bathroom in the meantime.

Sure enough, when he emerged in his bedroom again after his skincare regimen, Blaine was sitting on the bed, wearing neatly pressed pajamas and smelling like raspberries and aftershave. He was also on the verge of a panic attack, it seemed, so Kurt hastened to hug him and whisper “It will be okay.”

“Finn said…”

“I know what he said, and I’m sorry he got you so wound up. My friends are nosy, yes, but I can deal with them. We can deal with them. You’ll be fine. I’ll stay with you the whole night through, and when they’re too annoying, I’ll tell them to back off.”

Blaine didn’t look reassured. “I’d feel better if… If we had a story to tell them. About how we met.”

“All right, honey. Do you mind if I get under the duvet? I’m a bit cold.”

They both got under the covers, and Blaine wriggled until he was back in Kurt’s arms, which made Kurt smile and his heart beat a bit faster.

“So… We met at the coffee shop where you work?” Kurt suggested. “And I liked the bowtie you were wearing and complimented you on it. Oh, that is… If you… Do you wear bowties while working?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“There you go! And you smiled at me, and I was smitten at once. You have such a lovely smile.”

“Thank you.”

Kurt continued, “So I kept coming back to your coffeeshop… Where is it, in fact? Somewhere near my school or where I live, I hope.”

“Oh, it’s near the Washington Square Park. It’s called Stumptown Coffee Roasters.”

Kurt perked up. “I’ve been there! They have the best chai lattes, I love those.”

“It’s the spices,” Blaine explained. “We make our own blend.”

“Well, brilliant. I’ve raved to Rachel about those chai lattes, so now I can tell her it wasn’t just for the drinks I went to that coffeeshop.”

“Okay. So then… what happened?”

“Hmm… We ran into each other somewhere outside the coffeeshop, and… You saved me and my quiff from a sudden rain squall by letting me shelter under your umbrella. I was so grateful I asked you out on the spot, and you said yes.”

“Oh, I like that,” said Blaine. “You’re really good at this.”

“Hours and hours of practice daydreaming. Might as well put it to good use for once.”

“So… when did this happen, exactly?” Blaine wanted to know.

“Oh, just a few weeks ago. We’ve only gone on one date so far, because you’re busy, and I’m busy. But then I went to the coffeeshop one last time before I’d be heading home to Ohio, and we got talking, as we always do, and you mentioned being all alone for Christmas, and I invited you home with me. It was a spur of the moment decision.”

Blaine laughed. “Well, that’s true enough!”

Kurt hummed in assent, and carded his fingers through Blaine’s curls, gently massaging his head. “I can be impulsive, yes. But inviting you is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I don’t regret it one bit.”

“Me neither.”

“Do you think we could…?”

“Keep in touch once we’re back in New York? Yes. Yes, please.”

Kurt was a bit taken aback by Blaine’s quick reaction. He’d meant to ask Blaine out on a date, but this sounded like he was being friend-zoned.

Oh. Not quite on the same wavelength, then.

Kurt took his hands away from Blaine’s hair, fake yawned and announced that he was about to fall asleep. He turned onto his side, said “Goodnight” and focused on making his breathing soft and slow and regular.

Next to him, he heard Blaine whisper “Goodnight, Kurt” and turn onto his side as well, taking away his body heat and making Kurt shiver a bit.

“Are you still cold?” Blaine asked.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Blaine shuffled closer and spooned Kurt, his presence warm and comforting, and at once Kurt felt a million times sleepier.

“Much better than a boyfriend pillow,” Kurt mumbled, tugging Blaine’s arm snugly around him.

Blaine laughed. “Nothing better than the real thing, right?”

Kurt didn’t answer. Seeing as they were only fake dating, there was no real thing. Or was there? Ugh, why had he made such a mess of things and allowed himself to catch feelings?

Behind him, he heard Blaine say “Sweet dreams”, and he felt a slight fleeting pressure on his neck. Had Blaine just kissed him?

Kurt suppressed a sigh. This was getting more and more confusing, but he hoped it would sort itself out in the end. In the meantime, he was going to imagine this was really his boyfriend spooning him in bed and keeping him toasty warm. It felt like heaven, and he was going to enjoy the experience to the fullest.

I could get used to this…

#klaine fanfiction #my fic #The Christmas Guest #Chapter 7 #fake dating #enjoy!

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