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You'll Fall for Me, Today or Tomorrow novel read online - Clarissa and Matthew - Bravonovel

You'll Fall for Me, Today or Tomorrow

https://www.bravonovel.com/youll-fall-for-me-today-or-tomorrow-8403

You'll Fall for Me, Today or Tomorrow novel is a Romance story about Clarissa and Matthew.

You can read this novel online on Bravonovel and keep track of the latest chapters

You'll Fall for Me, Today or Tomorrow novel Chapter 1

Splash!

He splashed Clarissa's feverish body with cold water, waking her up from a moment of stupor.

She looked up to see the man whom she had latched on to standing right in front of her.

The man removed his coat and tossed it to the ground. Looking tall and handsome, he was dressed in a white shirt and a pair of black suit pants. He had chiseled features like those of a male model, and his eyes especially looked astute and callous.

“Sober now?” His voice was extremely cold and stern.

“I'm sorry,” Clarissa said in embarrassment.

She had just gotten off the plane to visit her mother whom she hadn't seen for years. Yet never in her wildest dream did she expect her mother to drug and deliver her to the bed of a perverted old man.

Confused and delirious, she had grabbed hold of a stranger.

If not for this fine gentleman, she wouldn't dare to imagine what would become of her now.

Clarissa huddled in the bathtub and lowered her head to hide the pain in her eyes, not realizing how seductive she looked with her dress clinging damply to her skin.

Matthew squinted his eyes. Is she really not trying to seduce me?

“Mr. Tyson.” Donnie's voice sounded at the bathroom door. “The doctor and the clothes are here.”

“Thank you,” Clarissa piped up as she lifted her head. “I'm so sorry for the trouble.”

There was no need for explanation because they were only strangers to each other. She had noticed the man's inquisitive and derisive gaze, reckoning that he would only misunderstand her for having an ulterior motive if she were to explain herself.

A female doctor came in just as Matthew was about to leave the bathroom. She put the clothes aside and gave Clarissa a jab before leaving shortly after.

Outside, the room was already empty by the time Clarissa had changed her clothes and trudged out of the bathroom.

Hah, what was I thinking?

After a night of rest at the hotel, she was reluctant to go back to the Garretts', but she had no other choice as she needed to retrieve her belongings.

“You still have the audacity to come back?”

Her arrival immediately interrupted the peaceful atmosphere in the living room.

It was Clarissa's stepsister, Yvonne, who had said that.

“I'm here to take my stuff.”

Clarissa walked past the living room, wanting to head back to her room, but Yvonne blocked her way and landed a stinging slap across her face.

Caught off guard, Clarissa jerked her head up in a rage.

“You ingrate! What do you think you're doing? How dare you disappear on such an important occasion last night? We were trying to get you a boyfriend. Do you know who that man is? Do you know how much trouble you have caused us? Do you know how humiliating it was for us just because you ran away?” Yvonne let loose a torrent of abuse at Clarissa.

“If that man is so important, why didn't you take him for yourself?” Clarissa retaliated, cupping her face.

I will never sleep with a balding and beefy old man in his fifties!

“Why you—”

“We're family, Yvonne. Don't get too worked up,” Zach interrupted before his daughter could fly off the handle again.

Then putting on a calm look, he said to Clarissa, “We're doing this for your own good, Clary. Mr. Jensen has a sizeable net worth and he's still single. Haven't you heard that older men are wiser and they're much gentler towards women? You have nothing to worry about for the rest of your life if you're married into the Jensen family. Your mother has been saying we don't take good care of you so we wanted to make it up by finding you a good man.”

Clarissa darted Zach and the woman beside him, Hilary—her biological mother—a cold look.

“I don't need it,” she said, then returned to her room to retrieve her suitcase that was left untouched since yesterday.

Upon her arrival in D City the day before, the Garetts had taken to a hotel for a meal after reuniting with Hilary. Yet little did she expect to be greeted by a filthy sight.

“I'm doing this for your own good, Clary.” Hilary had come into her room and was grabbing her by the arm. “You can't just stay in that small city and do nothing for the rest of your life, right? It's a waste of your good looks.”

Clarissa shook her hand off relentlessly. “Is this why you've abandoned me for twelve years?”

“I...”

Clarissa had already walked away before Hilary could finish.

None of the Garretts stopped her.

“Don't worry. We were indeed a little too reckless yesterday. I'm Clary's mother. That's a fact. We need to plan and think wisely about this.” Hilary tried to appease her husband and stepdaughter when she saw the dissatisfaction on their faces.

“Are you sure?” Yvonne snorted. “She's your daughter after all.”

“She may be my daughter, but I'm very much in love with your father, Yvonne. You know me, don't you, Zach?”

“Of course,” Zach smiled.

Clarissa had hailed for a cab, planning to stay at a hotel, when she received a call from her best friend, Ellie.

“Why didn't you tell me you've arrived in D City? Do you even consider me as your friend? Where are you?”

Clarissa's heart warmed at her words.

“I'm on my way to a hotel...”

“Hotel? You could have just stay at my place.”

“I don't think that's nice. I...”

“I won't take no for an answer. Head over to J City Building. I'll pick you up and we can go grab a meal together.”

Clarissa let out a helpless chuckle at Ellie's domineering behavior. Hanging up the phone, she could only tell the driver to take another route.

After she alighted from the cab, Clarissa waited under a shade beside J City Building.

She was playing with her phone when she looked up and saw the silhouette of a man in a white shirt and a pair of suit pants. There was something about that man that made him look imposing as he walked out of the building.

Followed by a crowd around him, Clarissa wondered what he was saying as the people sent him off with a bow thereafter.

The driver opened the door, and the man was about to get in when he suddenly looked over in her direction.

Taken aback, Clarissa quickly lowered her head in embarrassment and feigned ignorance.

Matthew looked at the young lady through the car window until the car drove away and her figure disappeared from sight.

“Donnie,” he piped up. “I need you to run a background check on that woman.”

Donnie naturally understood who he was referring to. What are the odds of meeting the same woman who had thrown herself at Mr. Tyson twice?

They had never believed in pure coincidence and accident.

…...

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#You'll Fall for Me Today or Tomorrow #Clarissa #Matthew #Novel #online novel #read online #romance fiction #love story

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amara-scott · 4 years

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Halloween

Movie: Blackkklansman Characters: Phil Zimmerman x Reader Categories: M’sorry this is long, everything? lil smutty at the end

So, yes- I may get a little more excited for unimportant holidays than the usual American citizen should. But does that mean others have to be cranky or a grump? No. Why not just go with the flow and enjoy some free candy?

"Okay- I get that you don't like it, but what's your costume going to be?" I ask Zimmerman as I sit on his desk at work, looking through a catalogue of adult costumes. Extremely boring ones, might I add. The ones you see in every store and every commercial.

I hear his sigh and glance over the edge of the current page. He rolls his eyes, not looking up from the paper he's reading. Jimmy laughs behind me, Ron joining in. I give them a grin, like every year, I love teasing poor Phil.

"Not happening this year." He mumbles, taking a sip of his coffee, grimacing afterwords. Probably already cold. I hop off his desk and take the mug.

"I'll give you time to think while I get you a fresh, hot coffee—" I walk out the office, patting his shoulder as I go and make out Ron who can't contain his snickering. He receives a glare from Flip but no further comment. I hurry and greet a couple guys in the kitchen.

"Flip! Hey, I have an idea guys. Since it's my turn to host the dinner, we'll all keep it a secret what we dress up as. What do you say?" I place the steaming mug next to Flip's papers and he groans, leaning back and looking at me.

"Seriously? Why do we have to dress up at all?"

"Flip, why not?" I point at Ron, agreeing with his question.

"You're my favorite officer, you know that, Stallworth?" I walk over to him and place a hand on his shoulder as we share a smile.

"Hey." Jimmy says, I look over and wave him off.

"You know very well you're high up on the rank as well." He sighs relieved and sinks back into his chair with a grin.

"What about Flip?" Ron asks, smirking and we all glance over at Phil. He's obviously listening but trying to ignore us, head down and pen ready to write.

"Officer Zimmerman? Oh, I don't know. He's been quite rude lately. I would say— just below Landers."

"Hey!" His head snaps up and he frowns at me, all of us chuckling at his expression. I skip over and lean my elbows on his desk.

"You know what to do to change that." I wink at him and stand back up straight, walking toward the office door. "I'll see you on Saturday then, no more complaints." I raise an eyebrow at Flip at the end, him sighing deeply but nodding. I grin and wave, turning. My bell pants moving and flowing with my long strides.

___

I wait for Patrice to come over that Saturday. She helps me with the food and dips, decorations and music. As Bobby Pickett's Monster Mash is playing in the background, we get ready, dressing up in our costumes.

I slip into my rather tight Bat Girl suit and Patrice in her Wonder Woman outfit. I place the crown in the perfect spot in her wild hair and we help each other touch up on our makeup. We giggle as we pose, taking polaroids and skipping through my small house like we were saving the world. I'm about to take some more popcorn to throw at her but we hear a knock, freezing and I grin, walking over to the door. I see Patrice straightening her outfit, making sure everything's in place.

I open the door and peek outside, seeing my three favorite men of the night. I can't help but burst out laughing, Jimmy dressed up as Tin Man from Wizard of Oz. Even his face is painted silver, shining brighter than my glitter eyeshadow. Patrice walks over and giggles, welcoming Ron and I hug him afterwards. With Jimmy I try to keep his face a little further from mine.

Ron honestly couldn't have picked a better costume. His name tag reading Agent Bond. Which he kind of was. A really good undercover detective. And a secretive bag in his hand.

And Flip? Flip wore a flannel, his hair as messy as ever and Jeans and boots as usual. I don't want to frown, not showing him that it disappoints me he didn't put any effort into it. I really do like him, and I know he likes me too. We spent many evenings together, staying longer at diners and bars than the others. Talking and exchanging looks. Maybe I'm just overreacting.

"Good you're here Flip." I give him a smile and hug him, wondering why he is so quiet. I raise an eyebrow as we pull away and lead them all inside, showing them the food filled table and offer them beers.

Patrice and Ron sit together, Jimmy on one end and the seat next to Flip still open. I feel his eyes on me as I walk between kitchen and dining room. I also picked the costume because it honestly just looked really good. It sparkles just like Yvonne Craig's version, purple and tight. I pull up my mask and sit down next to Flip, trying not to be too mad at him. It's just a costume for goodness sake. Or rather the lack of one.

"Hey Flip, what do you think of (Y/N)'s costume?" Jimmy says, biting into a piece of meat, raising his silvery eyebrows. Ron smiles, glancing up at Flip too. He hasn't even eaten anything yet, is he grumpy today?

"Yeah and what about the food, you don't like it? I'm sorry that I invited you- won't happen again-" I let out, growing more angry every second he's just sitting there. He looks like he's trying to suppress a grin, struggling to keep a straight face. I frown, not sure what's going on. Jimmy and Ron join in and Patrice too after Ron whispered something in her ear.

"I think you look bloody good tonight, Bat Girl." Flip says, turning to me and I glance at his mouth, wondering why his words sound muffled. He grins at me and my eyes grow wide. Vampire teeth. Everyone starts laughing and I can't help but giggle, slapping his arm. He's unbelievable.

"Just for you." He says, quickly taking out the teeth and drying his mouth.

"Well I have to admit- that was good." I say, taking my beer and holding it up to the others.

"To a fun night with Bond, Tin Man, Wonder Woman and- a wanna-be-Dracula." We all toast and take a sip, I finally feel relaxed and take another glance at Flip, shaking my head at him as he looks back at me, winking.

___

We let movies roll in the background and played Pass Out while eating and laughing. Once we finished the game and Flip won, having ten pink elephant cards first, he raises his fists in the air, Ron and Jimmy groaning in annoyance as he gets his last tongue twister right. I feel very tipsy, not used to too much booze. Who could have figured that Ron would bring that game?

I lower one of Flip's arms, shushing him. "Calm down, cowboy. It's just a game." I hear myself slur at the end, frowning. I need water.

"No way, I've never seen you drunk before, Batsy." Flip responds and I click my tongue, trying to stand up. I had to wait a second before actually moving toward the kitchen. "Hey, hey— let me help you." A hand wraps around my waist, holding me to their side. I look up at Flip and nod.

"Thanks." I say quietly, my cheeks warm and eyes glossy. "I want water." I mumble and he helps me sit down at the small kitchen table, leaving me and returning with a glass of what I hope is water.

I take a sip and frown, a weird taste after all the beer, wine and whiskey we had this night. "You doing alright? Feel like you need to throw up?" I groan, not wanting to even think about it. I lean forward on the table, head in my hands and close my eyes for a moment.

"You want me to bring you upstairs?" He suggests, his voice sounding closer than last time he spoke. I glance over my fingers and he sits beside me, rubbing my back now, beneath my costume cape.

"No, I'm good-" I hiccup, holding a hand to my lips and growing even warmer in the face as Flip chuckles, running a hand through his hair and standing up, holding out a hand to me. I sigh taking it and his other hand is back around my waist, holding me up. I can walk myself, I want to pull away but am not strong enough. Maybe it's good he's holding me.

"Hey guys, the host needs to lay down, I'll bring her to bed." I frown at Flip, shaking my head.

"No, I'm fine-" hiccup "-I just need more water." I can't make out anyone's expression before being lead to the stairs. I hear good night and thank you but the next thing I feel is already my bed. Soft blanket against my cheek. I sigh, not wanting to move an inch and sleep for days.

"Let me get Patrice." Flip says and I hear a couple steps. Then my hair is lifted off my face, moved right behind my ear. "Sleep tight." I feel something wet on my forehead and then nothing. Only quiet. And dark.

___

I roll over, feeling around for my blanket and cover my cold skin. With one eye open I look around, trying to figure out what's going on. My window is open, curtains pulled together, darkening the room. I groan, frowning. The phone rings and I flinch, holding a hand to my warm head. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to ignore the shrill tone but it doesn't stop. In one slow but swift motion I sit up, taking a second to regain my balance and blink my eyes open.

"Hello?" I get out, clearing my throat afterwards, not knowing what's wrong with my voice. So groggy and deep.

"Wow, good morning Bat Girl, had a little too much to drink last night?" I hear Patrice's voice and roll my eyes, sighing.

"Why did you let me drink that much? You know me. At least I thought you did." I grin, shaking my head and closing my eyes again, leaning forward, head in my free hand.

"You should know your limits, sister. Maybe you got a little closer to knowing them last night."

"Sure thing, sister."

"You up for a run later?" I raise an eyebrow, not sure if she even drank anything at all last night. I stand up carefully and draw the curtains aside, squinting my eyes as the first sunlight burns my eyes.

"Wow, how late is it?"

"It's one thirty. I'm glad I finally woke you up."

"I'm glad too, I bet it's a mess downstairs. I'll call you when I'm done cleaning, a run should do me some good though."

"Yes, right on, sister. See you later."

As I put on a robe, scanning my costume at the end of my bed, I walk out and down the stairs. I sigh relieved, the mess not as big as I thought. I hope the boys took some leftovers home to eat. But I see all the food stacked in the fridge. I roll my eyes and pack boxes, to drop them off at the station later.

I get ready, drinking a rare cup of coffee and put on grey leggings and a turquoise long sleeve for my run with Patrice. I'll meet her in about twenty minutes at the station.

As I drive there, I try to remember what all went down last night. The pass out game was maybe a little too much for my fragile stomach. And Flip, his Dracula teeth still make me grin. Such a dork.

I park my car and walk inside the station, having all the food stacked on my arms. As I get to their office I make out Patrice at Ron's table, laughing and sitting down on his desk.

"Hello guys, anyone ordered leftovers?" I place down boxes on their desks and lastly at Flip's, sitting down on his.

"Someone arose from the dead I see." Flip says and Patrice nods.

"She was still asleep two hours ago." I frown at her, mouth agape and cross my arms.

"Why do you have to betray me, Patrice?" They laugh at me, Flip nudging me arm. I glare down at him, not able to hide a smile.

"Especially you, Dracula."

"What? I didn't betray you, I even brought you upstairs." He raises his hands in front of himself, eyebrows doing the same. I roll my eyes and stand up, telling Patrice to wrap it up and go running.

"You're going for a run? You mind grabbing me a good coffee on your way back?" Flip says and continues to scan through papers.

"Who says I will come back after my run?" My hands land on my hips, eyes on him as he slowly looks up, adjusting his holster over his red plaid shirt. Which was my favorite. I loved the color on him and it's the softest out of all of them.

"Well, I know you need those tupperware boxes back so-" He shrugs his shoulders, smiling innocently.

"You're lucky you're cute, Zimmerman." I mumble, hitting his shoulder and the guys laugh, Patrice and I walking out.

___

"So are you dating now or what?" Patrice huffs, running alongside me as we enter the park and follow the path down to the water.

"Who? Me and Flip?"

"Obviously, he's absolutely into you."

"What makes you say that?" I swallow, trying to take a look at her but struggling to do it while running. I just see her eyes rolling.

"The way he's treating you, looking at you. Last night for example, he helped you go to bed and was such a gentlemen. He came back down, asking me to help you undress."

I frown, hoping not to trip as I try to remember the wet sensation on my forehead last night. The way his finger ran across my forehead. My skin tingles at the thought.

"I don't know, Patrice." I say and she sighs, changing the subject.

___

The whole way back to the department I have to think of what Patrice said, nearly running into a couple officers. I carry the four big coffee cups from our local Colorado café that usually doesn't do takeaway coffee. But for the department they do. So sweet of them.

"Three orders of hot and delicious coffee?" The guys look up and I give them the cups, Jimmy nearly burning his finger. "Careful!" I say and giggle. I give Flip his cup and he hums, smelling the liquid, eyes closed.

"That's the good stuff." I grin, nodding and take a gentle sip myself, sitting back down on his desk.

"Flip?" He looks over, nodding and drinking the coffee. I push a black strand of hair out of his face, adjusting my seat and face him more. "Can we talk later?" I ask quietly, not wanting to cause a scene or give the boys anything to tease Flip with.

"Uh, sure. After work?" I nod and rub my arm, smiling at him. "You could come by my place, if you want." He adds, seeming hesitant but tries not to show it, drinking more of the coffee. I stop moving for a second, not sure if I heard him right. To his place? I've never been there. Weird, to be honest. I've known him for a while now, nearly a year. Patrice introduced me to them all after an incident with an investigation she told me. That's how she met Ron too.

"I'll be there at around eight?" He nods and smiles at me. After writing down his address for me I leave and decide a hot shower would be the best now.

______

I'm done cleaning up my house and myself, when it's already 7.20. I curse under my breath and quickly get dressed. It's chilly outside and I settle with a thin white turtle neck and my favorite blue plaid skirt, short but beautiful. At the door I put on my black thigh highs and grab my purse and coat, finally leaving at 7.45. It's about 20 down to 21 Street so I hurry, still staying with the speed limit.

As I pull up to number 1813, I take in the house. It's matching the blue tones of my skirt, the lawn turning dry and a huge oak tree standing to the side. It's a cute one story house. I smile and step out, a cold breeze welcoming me. I pull on the coat and hug myself, walking up to his house. After knocking it only took him about a minute to open the door.

"Hey there." We share a hug and he leads me inside, taking my coat from me. I take off my boots, him clearing his throat and then moving from behind me toward a different room.

"Just follow the smell once you're done." He calls out and I look up to see where he's going. I grin and try to imagine Flip cooking a dinner. I walk toward the kitchen and stop in the doorway. He's stirring something in a pot, then goes over to grab a couple plates from a cabinet.

"Can I help?" I walk in further, smoothing down my skirt. He looks over, up and down my form only briefly and shakes his head.

"No need, I can manage. You can pick a drink and sit down in the dining room, right through that door." He nods ver to a different entry way and I open the fridge, looking through his options.

"Alright, you want a beer too?" He hums in response, tasting the sauce next and I try to peek but he points to the door, looking at me seriously.

"Okay okay, I'll leave." I raise my beer bottle filled hands in defence. Before going out the door I glance over my shoulder, his eyes on my bum, not realizing I caught him. I smirk and sway my hips more, leaving and sitting down at the round table in the room. I bite my lip, crossing my legs, running a hand over my exposed skin.

"Here we go." Flip enters, carrying two plates. Pasta with red sauce. I mean, it's nothing extraordinary but it doesn't have to be. It's a good dish and smells really good.

"Thanks, Flip, looks and smells amazing. Where have you been hiding your cooking talent all this time?" He chuckles, joining me across the table. We clink our bottles and start eating. My thigh high socks warm my feet and legs, it's really gotten cold out now. November is one of my favorite months.

"How was work, everything alright?" I ask, wiping my lips with a napkin and take another sip.

"Yeah, it's gotten more busy lately, though." He sighs, twirling more pasta on his fork. I just watch him for a moment, eating. I want to place another fork full into my mouth but it's too much sauce and splatters onto my white turtleneck. I groan, wiping my mouth and start dabbing at my shirt. But it's only getting worse. I hear him chuckle and watch me.

"Hey, that's not funny. Do you have dish soap?" He frowns, nodding though. "Excuse me for a second." I stand up and walk toward the kitchen. I make sure the door is fully closed and step up to the sink. I pull off my top, running some warm water over the spot. Then I look for the dish soap. Nowhere to be found. I want to groan again but start looking through the cabinets. Where does a man keep his cleaning supplies?

"Flip? Where is the dish soap?" I call out and hear his chair squeaking. I freeze, panicking. He'll see me in my bra- I block my chest with the wet top and shiver, the water cold against my bare skin. He walks inside and stops for a second, looking at my state. He clears his throat, hiding a smile and opens one of the upper cabinets, pulling out the dish soap from a shelf that I clearly could not have reached all by myself. Idiot.

"Here you go." He hands it to me and I smile tightly, trying to avoid eye contact. "Do you Want me to get you a shirt?" He asks, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. His grin warms my face even more and I only nod.

"Thanks." I mumble and he pushes himself off, walking past me and toward his bedroom, I assume. I let out a breath and use the soap to quickly soak into the fabric, rubbing the spot together and running it under warm water again. I repeat that until there's only a very light shade of sauce, nearly gone. One time in the wash should get rid of the rest.

"Here you go." I flinch, turning around and accept his shirt. A black plaid shirt that I haven't seen on him before.

"Is this new?" I try to act casual, pulling it on and buttoning it up- but wrong. I groan and he pushes my hands down gently, redoing the buttons. His fingers grazing the skin of my stomach and chest. He apologizes quietly, focusing on the buttons. My heart races fast and at hope he doesn't feel it.

"There- and yes. It's a new one." I thank him again, tucking the shirt into my skirt on one side at the front. The sleeves are long and wide, covering my hands as well. "You want to sit on the couch?" I bite my lip, nodding at him. Before we move he steps closer and wraps his hands around my neck, my breath stuck in my throat. His fingers push out my hair that's stuck underneath the flannel. "Better."

He smiles down at me and walks past me, looking back to see if I'm following. I do. And sit down next to him. Right leg tucked underneath me and hands in my lap as I face him. "I like this one." I say, playing with the ends of the sleeves.

"Me too." I look back up, he's already watching me. "So what did you want to talk about?"

I knew this would be coming but I hoped he forgot. He's a detective. He doesn't forget anything. Maybe struggling to remember names sometimes but that's about it.

"I- uh, you know I just wanted to see how you're doing. I care about my- friends." He nods slowly, totally not buying my words.

"Well I'm doing just fine, thanks for asking." I nod, looking down at my lap, hoping he would let it go.

"How long, (Y/N)?" I meet his ganze, a sigh leaving his lips.

"What do you mean?" He shakes his head, chuckling and inching a little closer, his left hand over the back of the couch and right hand taking my left one, holding it and then gazing back up at me.

"How long are we supposed to keep this game going? I mean, it's fun, don't get me wrong. I love flirting with you and showering you with compliments but- you know, I think-"

"-it's time we take it a step further?" I conclude for him as he starts struggling with words. He nods, sighing with a smile. I take his big hand between both of mine, running my thumbs over his skin.

"Exactly." He adds, his voice calm and warm, like always. Another thing I love about him. I don't know what else to say so I lean my head closer, watching his lips and eyes, his own face leaning in. I close my lids and concentrate on his and my breath mixing. Soon our lips meet, gently and slow. My left hand going up around his neck, trying to sit closer to him. His hands hold onto my waist, lifting me up and setting me on his lap. I giggle against his lips and he chuckles, pulling me tightly against him. Our flannels rubbing together. He's still caressing my hips, digging his thumbs into my skin and hands cupping my bum. My skirt riding up with every movement. Soon his thumbs hook under the hem of my skirt and stay there for a moment. Our tongues fighting and tasting each other. My fingers running through his thick dark hair. His beard tickling my neck as his lips move from my mouth down to my neck. I hold his head and lean mine to the side slightly, giving him more space to play with. His breath is heavy and hot against my skin, his lips leaving a wet trail as he tries to move even lower, quickly opening the top two buttons of the flannel I'm wearing.

"Flip~" I whimper, his teeth pulling at my lower lip, hands back by my skirt, lifting it even further until the fabric is around my waist, panties exposed. My core tingles and I can't help and rock back and forth on his lap, glancing down and making out his hard member inside his pants. I unbutton my shirt even further and pull it off completely, his eyes glued to my every movement, cupping my breasts as soon as they are free. I still wear my bra but he's quick to unhook it and throw it to the side. Hands back on my breasts.

"Fuck." He says under his breath, kneading them and playing with my nipples. I inhale sharply as his teeth graze that soft skin. I try to take off my high socks but he grabs my hands, shaking his head at me, going back for a kiss. His hands now running up and down my thighs up to my ass.

I finally get to unbutton his flannel and he pulls it off, shirt following. I already try my best at opening his buckle but struggle, sighing and stopping the kiss to have a better look. He chuckles and helps me, pulling down the zipper too. I feel his fingers move around my bum and push my soaking panties to the side, teasing my lips and bud. I moan, moving my hips and palming him through his boxer briefs before freeing his member fully. I stroke it, his forehead now resting on my shoulder as he breathes deeply, small but low moans leaving his luscious lips every now and then.

And that's how we had sex for the first time.

___

The next morning I wake up to low snoring, I smile before opening my eyes, glancing over at Flip's peaceful form. The blanket only covering his lower body. His bare chest falling and rising with every breath he takes. I reach out, pushing his hair back gently and watch him, covering myself with more blanket. I move closer to him, resting my head in his chest, fingertips dancing across his stomach. His breath calms down and he's sighing, still sleeping as I glance up to his eyes. I look back down and bite my lip, my fingers moving further down and pushing the blanket as I go. Soon I reach his member, lightly touching it. I lift myself off the sheets and move lower, parting his legs carefully and kneeling between them, I wet my lips and kiss his semi hard cock. I watch his face, twisting and moving. And when I finally take him whole into my mouth his eyes slowly open, hands gripping the sheets as he looks down, smirking and chuckling as he throws his head back against the pillow. I smile as I lick his penis, kissing the tip and running my hands along his abdomen, dragging my nails down. His muscles twitching underneath my touch.

"Good morning to you too." He mumbles, his voice still sounding way too tired. He rubs a hand across his face and the other one tangle ps in my hair, guiding me up and down at a pace he enjoys. His other arm is tucked behind his head and he looks relaxed. His breath is getting heavier, louder, turning into moaning. But suddenly he sits up, me following his movement as his wide eyes search for his alarm clock.

"6.30? Fuck-" He stumbles out the bed and nearly bumps into his dresser on the way to the bathroom. I didn't know he would be working today. Oops. The shower is running and I hear him exhale loudly, soon turning off the water again. I walk to the bathroom as he comes out, pulling out clothes from his drawers. I have to suppress a grin, holding a hand in front of my lips as I still see his hard member. He's trying to tuck it into his pants but I push his hands off, kneeling down.

"If you're late, ten more minutes won't be a problem." I say, his face twisting in frustration and he groans, pulling on his shirt and the black flannel I wore yesterday. I start my job, trying to make him release fast.

"Fuck, okay- this might work." He says, sounding more awake and guiding my head again, his head tilted back. He's pushing my head so far that I'm near tears, struggling to take a breath. The pace quickens and he's holding me down, groaning and twitching in my mouth, now loudly moaning and releasing his load down my throat. I hold onto his legs, hoping he'd let go soon so I could catch my breath. And that he does, I gasp and cough, wiping my mouth and swallowing down his cum. I wipe my eyes and smile up at him. I kiss his tip as he takes a couple deep breaths.

"No more- I need to get going." He tucks his member away, zipping up and buckling his belt. I stand up wiping some spit off my face. He stops and turns to me, pulling me into a hug. "You're incredible." He whispers into my hair, kissing my forehead. He steps around me and I follow him into the living room where he quickly covers me with a blanket from the couch. "Careful love- only I'm allowed to see you like that." He winks and I giggle, pulling it tightly around myself, watching him put on his boots. "I'll bring you lunch later." I say and he smiles, walking over and giving me another kiss, this time on the lips.

"Thanks, see you later." I wave and watch him leave, going to his car and driving off. I go into the kitchen and sigh as I see my stained shirt still laying there. I clean up his house as best as I can, taking a simple black short sleeve shirt from his drawers and get dressed. Before I leave I make sure he has dinner for tonight and write a quick note.

Thanks for last night, I loved it. Dinner is in the fridge, hope you like it. :)

I leave and take all with me that's mine, driving back to my place to make him some early lunch. I make sandwiches, grab an apple and a piece of my homemade chocolate cake that they didn't finish at the Halloween dinner.

Once I'm freshly showered and wearing new clothes, a sweater and my bell pants, I drive back to the station. It's now 11.30 am.

I walk into the office, a big smile on my face. Their conversation dies down as they see me and Flip stands up, taking my bags and pulling me into a hug, kissing my lips. I melt into his touch, stroking his cheek. Other hand holding his strong arm.

Once he lets go, he goes in for a second but brief peck on the lips.

"When did that happen?" We look over at a stunned Ron and smirking Jimmy who looked like he was waiting for it to happen.

"You owe me, Stallworth."

I ignore that our friends were betting on us and only look at Flip. "I made you lunch and brought you some cake as well."

"What about us? Are we getting no food no more?" Ron gasps, holding a hand over his heart.

"I don't know yet. Maybe you should ask Patrice." I raise a brow at him and Flip throws an arm around me, pointing at me.

"She's my personal chef now, none of yours. Get used to it. Comes with having a girlfriend, Stallworth." I look up at him. Slowly smiling.

"Girlfriend, huh?" He shrugs, smiling innocently and I ignore the comment he made about me. Instead I agree with him. Hugging him around his middle.

"He's right." I mumble into his flannel, loving his smell. I could fall asleep just like this. And just like that I won not only a man who I want to spend a lot of time with- no- I also gained a best friend. My Flip.

_________________________________

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homemade-potato · 4 years

Text

shit i forgot to say like a week ago

Here’s chapter two, have fun reading or smthn

Chapter one for those of you who are too lazy to go back (bcs same)

and here it is below the cut (i know, i’m putting effort in today)

This chapter was surprisingly short compared to the last one lmao, it's only seven pages compared to the last one's nine and it's 1500 words shorter which is good for me, but it was still a surprise.

Anyway, enjoy!

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had barely changed. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the uniform brass number four on the Dursley’s front door; it crept into their living room which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr Dursley had seen the fateful news report about owls. Only the photographs had changed, ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink boy wearing different-coloured bobble hats. But Dudley Dursely was no longer a baby, now the photographs showed a large blonde boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the travelling fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign of there being another boy living in the house.

Yes, Harry Potter was still there, he hadn’t been abandoned on the front step of an orphanage no matter how much his aunt wanted to do so, he was asleep at the moment, but not for long. His aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice which made the first sound of the day.

‘Up! Get up! Now!’

Harry woke with a start, his aunt rapped on the door again.

‘Up!’ She screeched. Harry heard her making her way to the kitchen and then the sound of a frying pan being pulled from its wrack and put on the cooker. He rolled back on his and tried to remember the dream he had been having, it had been a good one. There had been a flying motorbike in it. He had a funny feeling he’d had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside his door. ‘Are you up yet?’ she demanded.

‘Nearly,’ said Harry.

‘Well hurry up, I want you to look at the bacon. And don’t you dare let it burn. I want everything perfect on Duddy’s birthday.’

Harry groaned.

‘What did you say?’ His aunt snapped through the door.

‘Nothing, nothing...’

Dudley’s birthday - how could he have forgotten? Harry eased himself off of his small mattress and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his mattress and, after pulling a spider off one of them, he put them on. Harry was used to spiders because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was dressed he went down the hall to the kitchen. The table was almost hidden with presents of varying sizes. It looked as if Dudley had got the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Why Dudley wanted a racing bike was anyone’s guess, as Dudley hated exercise - unless of course, it involved beating up somebody. Dudley’s favourite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn’t catch him more often than not. He didn’t look like it, but Harry was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard for the better part of his life but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age and he looked even more small and skinny than he was because he was forced to wear Dudley’s old clothes and Dudley was about four times larger than he was, in both width and height. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore wire-framed round glasses held together with a lot of sellotape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry really liked about his appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead shaped like a lightning bolt, he thought it looked very badass and had had it for as long as he could remember. The first question he could remember asking was asking his Aunt Petunia how he got it.

‘In a car crash when your parents died,’ she had replied before saying, ‘and don’t ask questions.’

Don’t ask questions - that was the first rule to a peaceful life with the Dursleys, if he didn’t obey that rule…. Well, we’ll get into that later.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon. ‘Comb your hair!’ He barked as a way of a morning greeting. About once a week, Uncle Vernon peered over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, yet there was never any difference, his hair simply grew all over the place.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother, Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon - he had a large pink face, not much neck, small watery eyes, and thick blonde hair on his head which he inherited from his Aunt Petunia. She often said Dudley looked like a baby angel, Harry thought he looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of bacon and eggs on the table, which was quite difficult as presents took up most of the space. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting them. His face fell.

‘Thirty-six,’ he said looking up at his parents, ‘that’s two less than last year.’

‘Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Maggie’s present, see, it’s under this big present from Mummy and Daddy.’

‘Alright, thirty-seven then,’ said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who felt a huge Dudley-tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley flipped the table.

Aunt Petunia obviously smelled danger too, as she said quickly, ‘And we’ll buy you two more presents while we’re out today. How does that sound, Popkin? Two more presents, is that all right?’

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work, Harry thought. Finally, he said slowly, ‘So, I’ll have thirty… thirty…’

‘Thirty-nine, sweetums,’ said Aunt Petunia.

‘Oh,’ Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel, ‘okay then.’

Uncle Vernon chuckled. ‘Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. Atta boy, Dudley!‘ He ruffled Dudley’s hair.

At that moment, the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went up to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley a racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote-control aeroplane, sixteen new video games, and a video recorder. He was ripping the wrapping paper off of a golden wristwatch when Aunt Petunia walked back into the room looking like she’d just eaten a lemon.

‘Bad news, Vernon,’ she said, Mrs Figg’s broken her leg, she can’t take him.’ She jerked her head in Harry’s direction.

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror but Harry’s heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley’s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure and theme parks, hamburger bars, or the cinema. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away, Harry hated going there, the whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs Fiigg forced him to look at photographs of all the cats she’d ever owned. The only part of going to her house he enjoyed, was when she offered him stale cake and tea about halfway through his visit. The lavender scent of the fondant flowers on top of the cake was always so calming. The bittersweet of the flower’s taste never failed to relax him and then, somehow, he didn’t mind learning about her cats with heavy eyes under the heavy scent of lavender and the heavy, sleep-inducing taste of the tea.

‘Now what?’ said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he’d planned this. Harry knew he should be sorry that Mrs Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn’t easy when he reminded himself that it would be a whole year before he had to look at Mr Tibbles, Snowy, Snowball, Mr Paws, Tufty, Smokey, Misty, and Coco again.

‘We could phone Marge,’ Uncle Vernon suggested.

‘Don’t be silly, Vernon, she’d kill the boy.’

The Durselys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn’t there - or rather, as though he was something very nasty and beneath them, like a slug.

‘What about whats-her-name, your friend, Yvonne?’

‘On holiday in Majorca,’ snapped Aunt Petunia.

‘You could just leave me here,’ Harry put in hopefully (he’d be able to watch the television and maybe even have a go on Dudley’s computer).

Aunt Petunia looked like she’d swallowed another lemon. ‘And come back and find this house in ruins?’ She snarled.

‘I won’t blow up the house,’ said Harry, but they weren’t listening.

‘I suppose we could take him to the zoo,’ said Aunt Petunia slowly, ‘and leave him in the car.’

‘The car’s new, he’s not sitting in it alone.’

Dudley began to cry loudly, in fact, he wasn’t crying. It had been years since he’d properly cried, but he knew if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

‘Dinky Duddyums, don’t cry, mummy won’t let him spoil your birthday!’ She cried, flinging her arms around him in a comforting hug.

‘I… Don’t… Want…. Him… T-To come!’ Dudley wailed between huge pretend sobs, ‘He always s-spoils everything!’ He sent Harry a nasty smile through a gap in his mother’s arms.

Just then the doorbell rang - ‘Oh Good Lord, they’re here already!’ said Aunt Petunia frantically and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polikss, walked in with his mother, Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat - he was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry immediately.

Half an hour later, Harry couldn’t believe his luck, he was sitting in the back of the Dursely’s car with Piers and Dudley on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life! His aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had pulled Harry aside. ‘I’m warning you,’ he’d threatened, putting his large purple face up close to Harry’s, ‘I’m warning you now, boy, any funny business and you’ll be in that cupboard from now ‘til Christmas.’

‘I’m not going to do anything,’ said Harry, ‘honestly.’

But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him, No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn’t make it happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of craft scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald bar his fringe which she’d left to ‘cover his horrible scar’. Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry who’d spent a sleepless night tossing and turning imagining the kids at school pointing and laughing at him, he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and Sellotaped glasses. The next morning, however, he awoke to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had shorn it off. He’d been given a week in his cupboard with one small meal a day for that, even though he tried to explain, he couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had tried to force him into a revolting old jumper of Dudley’s (burgundy with bright orange bobbles), but the more she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it became until it would have better fitted a sock puppet, but definitely wouldn’t have fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn’t punished.

On the other hand, he’d got into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchen. Dudley’s gang had been chasing him as usual when, much to Harry’s surprise, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry’s headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he’d tried to do (as he shouted to Uncle Vernon through the slats in his locked cupboard door) was jump behind the big bins outside the kitchen. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him mid-jump.

But today, nothing could go wrong. It was even worth being with Dud ley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn’t school, his cupboard, or Mrs Figgs cabbage smelling home.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia, he liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were a few of his favourites. This morning, the subject was motorbikes.

‘Bloody bikers roaring along like maniacs, the young hooligans,’ he said as a motorbike overtook them.

‘I had a dream about a motorbike,’ said Harry to himself, remembering suddenly, ‘it was flying.’

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed the car, he turned in his seat and yelled ‘MOTORBIKES DON’T FLY!’

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

‘I know they don’t,’ said Harry, ‘it was only a dream.’

But he wished he hadn’t said anything, if there was one thing the Dursleys hated more than him asking questions, it was him talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it were a dream or a cartoon. They seemed to think he would get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams and then because the smiling lady in the van asked what Harry wanted before they could hurry on, they bought him a cheap lemon ice lolly. It wasn’t bad either, Harry thought, licking it while they watched a gorilla scratching its head. The gorilla looked remarkably like Dudley, except it wasn’t blonde.

Harry had the best morning he’d had in a long time, though he was careful to walk a safe distance away from Dudley and Piers, who were getting bored of the animals by lunchtime, so they wouldn’t fall back into their habit of using him as a punching bag. They ate in the zoo restaurant and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory wasn’t big enough, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish off the first.

Harry felt afterwards that he should have known it was too good to last.

After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of snakes and lizards were crawling and slivering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see the huge poisonous cobras and thick man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a dust bin - but at the moment, it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the brown coils.

‘Make it move,’ he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass but the snake didn’t budge. ‘Do it again,’ Dudley ordered and Uncle Vernon rapped on the glass smartly with his knuckles once more, but the snake snoozed on. ‘This is boring,’ Dudley moaned and he shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom. It had no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It must be worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom where the only visitor he got was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake him up, but at least he got to visit the rest of the house, he thought.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on level with Harry’s.

It winked.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone else was watching, they weren’t, he looked towards the tank once more and winked back.

The snake jerked its head towards Dudley and Uncle Vernon then raised its eyes towards the ceiling as if to say 'I get that all the time.'

‘ I know, ’ Harry murmured through the glass, although he wasn’t too sure that the snake could hear him. ‘It must be so annoying.’

The snake nodded vigorously.

‘Where do you come from anyway?’ Harry asked.

The snake jerked its tail at the little sign next to the glass. Harry stared at it.

Boa Constrictor

Brazil

‘Was it nice there?’

The boa constrictor once again jerked it's tail at the sign again and Harry read on

This specimen was bred in captivity

‘Oh, so you’ve never been to Brazil?’

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. ‘DUDLEY, MR DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING’

Dudley came waddling towards them from the lizard section as fast as he could. ‘Out of the way, you,’ he said, punching Harry in the gut. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What happened next happened so fast no one saw what happened - one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning with their noses on the glass, the next, they leapt back with screams of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped, the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake began uncoiling itself rapidly before slithering out onto the floor. Harry could have sworn he heard a low hissing voice that said ‘ Brazil here I come… obrigada amiga.’

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. ‘But the glass,’ he kept saying, ‘where did the glass go?’

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a strong cup of tea while he apologised over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry could tell, the snake hadn’t done anything but snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudey was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg. But worst of all for Harry at least, Piers was calming down enough to say ‘Harry was talking to it, weren’t you, Harry?’ With a smirk on his obnoxious face.

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could barely speak. All he could manage to say was ‘Go - cupboard - stay - no meals,’ before he collapsed in a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry lay in his dark cupboard days later, his stomach rumbling and wishing he had a watch. He didn’t know what time it was and he couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen to get some food before the Dursleys were asleep.

He’d lived with the Durselys for almost eleven years, eleven long miserable years. He’d been with them for as long as he could remember, ever since his parents had died in a car crash. He couldn’t remember being in a car when his parents had died, but sometimes, when he strained his memory during the long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he assumed, was the crash, though he couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from, a traffic light maybe. He couldn’t remember his parents at all, his aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and, of course, they forbade him from asking questions.

There were no photographs of them in the house.

When he was younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation, an aunt or uncle or cousin from his father’s side to whisk him away, but it had never happened; the Durselys were the only family. Yet sometimes he hoped that the strangers on the street that seemed to know him would do just that, take him away. Although they were very strange strangers, so he thought not. For example, and a tiny old man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping, Aunt Petunia, after asking Harry and Dudley if they knew him, had rushed them out of the Tescos without buying anything, the small half-loaf of bread that Harry had stuffed under his huge shirt for just in case aside. A wild-looking woman dressed in all green had once waved merrily at him on the bus. A bald man in a very long purple cloak had shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. the weirdest thing about these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry attempted to get a closer look.

At school, however, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang, they had a reign of terror in the playground that all were too scared of them to try and overthrow them. However their reign would be coming to an end soon as they go to secondary school.

#fanfiction #rewriting harry potter #not much changed from this chapter actually #fanfic #harry potter #fix-it fic

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esperwatchesfilms · 3 years

Text

New Year’s Evil

youtube

I got the idea to start this challenge while stoned in the middle of the night and desperate for a goal. Something to put myself into. And I thought, “COVID has made me a shut-in who only watches films and talks to people. What better way to spend that time than to actually attempt to beat that world record I set out to beat so long ago. Unfortunately, I’m doing it very unofficially so only the people I talk to on a regular basis are likely to pay it any attention. I’ve got to point out here and now that my scoring system for films is arbitrary and is not a true reflection of how much I enjoyed watching a film. My scores are based on silly things that I give and deduce points for as I see fit. The Esper Scale of Entertainment (or the ESE) is understood by no one, but I will give a clear indication of why points were given and taken away at the end of each post. With those two things out of the way, I’ve got to admit I really enjoyed New Year’s Evil despite its 35/100 ESE rating. It starts off with a disappointing horror movie rule-breaking trope. There’s a woman of color in the first scene. Clearly, this means the killer is going to kill her. She committed one of the ultimate horror movie sins by being a woman of color, and thus, the movie gods decided she had to die, which was made even worse by her cliché killer-pops-out-from-behind-a-shower-curtain death. Then we get the opening titles. About eight 80s punk-rockers are packed into a convertible and blasting “New Year’s Evil” by Shadow, the video I attached to this post. So, from the word go, I have no idea what I’m watching, but I’m here for it. The song slaps, so I’m immediately all in. Earlier we saw the Yvonne (the woman of color) talking to a friend over the phone saying, “I’m on my way” before her horror-movie-trope demise, and once the credits end, we are more properly introduced to Diane, aka Blaze, a TV/radio personality who is hosting a party she calls New Year’s Evil, which appears to be a punk show where all the opening title convertible punks were headed. Before going out on stage and starting the show, Diane/Blaze’s son rocks up in fancy coat tails with blue jeans and a crumpled tie. He’s handsome as hell, but holy hell, I can’t deal with this look. I should have probably taken more than five points off for this look alone, but it’s too late now. Anyway, Blaze and Derek (Coat Tails) have a weird mother-son exchange, and their interactions are cringey at best, but incestual-feeling at worst. Anyway, the show Blaze is hosting is a punk rock show where there are some unexplained people on a stage answering telephones (is it a telethon? We don’t know. No one seems to be pledging anything. Are they making requests? It is not explained). So, Blaze is the host and decides to get in on the answering-the-phone action. When she does, a modified voice says to call him “Ee-vil!” He pronounces it exactly the way Mermaid Man does in Spongebob Squarepants, and I could only see the ridiculous face of Mermaid Man in my head any time he said it (because, oh, yes, friends. He can’t only say it once! Anyhow, the man says he’ll be killing one person on the hour every hour from 9 pm to 12 pm. (East Coast’s New Year to West Coast’s New Year) So, naturally, Blaze informs her agent that he needs to get ALL the police there to protect everyone. Meanwhile, there’s a mosh pit happening in a sanitarium, where they are watching the New Year’s Evil show live on television. While we are at the sanitarium, an orderly (I think?) and a nurse sneak off to have some fun. The orderly has a small radio capable of recording external sound (like an oversized Talkboy) as well as the sound being emitted from the radio. The nurse makes some mention of it, to which he responds, “I always come well-equipped.” She giggles, bites her lip and says, “I bet you do!” Which tells us, as the audience, that not only are they about to do the do... but this dude’s definitely the murderer. Because we’ve already seen one horror movie rules death. So, of course, we need to see another. Nurse lady has sex? Nurse lady has to die. From here on out, there are more killings as the police rock up and try to sort out what’s happening. They’re portrayed as very useless, very authoritarian/demanding, and very judgmental -- soooooo, accurately, I suppose, is the word I’d use. They’re portrayed accurately. We see the killer in the car with two women, one of which is a ditzy blonde who just cannot shut up. She talks about all the different types of meditation she’s tried. She tells the killer her friend tried one of the types, too, for her “nervous diarrhea”. You know, just the thing you tell a stranger you’re thinking about sleeping with... that your friend gets nervous poops. The ditzy blonde girl is our next horror movie trope. “The Fool”. Done in by her own stupidity. They stop somewhere for snacks or some such (I honestly don’t remember), and the friend goes in leaving the killer alone with the ditz, whom he strangles with a plastic baggie that is also full of weed. When the friend comes back, the car is gone and in its place is her friend’s shoe. She sees a nearby dumpster with a piece of fabric matching her friend’s dress poking out. She walks over while some generic horror music mixed with some Walmart Brand Jason Voorhees breathing plays, and she opens the dumpster, and the killer is inside with a lighter which he flicks on and grins menacingly at the woman, who is yanked into the dumpster, where we can assume she, too, was murdered.

I should note that somewhere before being murdered, the ditz says, “When a girl doesn’t have a date on New Year’s Eve, she’s in Shit City.” And ditzy girl? I hear ya. From here on out, there are some necessity injuries. He is being hunted down by bikers for what seems like no reason at one point, so he hides at a drive-in movie, where he sort of kidnaps a girl who was getting felt up by her boyfriend. He yanks the dude out of the car and throws him aside after stabbing one of the bikers who was chasing him. We don’t see him die, so I’m going to assume it’s an injury since he seems to only be interested in killing women. He then, later, knocks out a security guard trying to get into the punk party because the police have now determined that Blaze is probably the final target. The police and Blaze are about to check on Blaze's hotel room (the party is being held in the hotel in a ballroom or something, I’m assuming. Convention center? I don’t know. The place is connected to the hotel), where her son is, and they pull a gun on him. She yells that it’s her son, and they apologize and leave, and she apologizes to Derek saying she forgot he was there, and he storms out, “YOU ALWAYS FORGET ME WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH”. The police leave, and when another officer comes back, THE KILLER ANSWERS HER DOOR. PLOT TWIST -- THE KILLER IS DIANE/BLAZE’S HUSBAND!!!! He called earlier to say he would be late, and when he shows up? HE’S THE KILLER!!!! I have to admit, I didn’t see this coming. The husband was mentioned briefly, but my brain didn’t connect it, so it was a pleasant surprise that this 80s film done duped me. Good job, New Year’s Evil!!

Anyway, Blaze is seen in the elevator moments later flirting with the officer, who’s married and has two sets of twins, information to which Blaze comments, “What’s the matter? No TV?” Suggest, Blaze. Very suggestive! It sucks that your creepy murder-husband rigged the camera in the elevator, so he knows about your weird suggestive conversations with randos, something it seems his son has also alerted him to, because when he reveals he’s the killer to her, he mentions that ladies are evil in general. Okay. So, it wasn’t just me. It wasn’t speculative. Dudeski really does just hate women. The whole film is just, “Guy hates women. Guy’s New Year Resolutions include killing all the nasty womens.” He tortures her a while by handcuffing her to some chains underneath the elevator, and then making the elevator go up and down with some fuse box of some kind that happens to just be easily accessible and next to where the elevator is. At least I haven’t seen this form of torture in film before, so that’s fun. The end is relatively boring. The police sort out that the husband used to be in the sanitarium we saw earlier where the nurse died. They find him torturing his wife, and they chase him to the roof, where he runs to the edge of the building, quotes Hamlet, and immediately plummets to his death wearing a goofy mask that he’s only worn twice in the film, both for short periods of time. He dies on impact, and everyone goes to investigate the body. The son picks up his mask and ominously stares into the distance, telling us before he’s actually told us that he’s totally going to take up his father’s quest to murder the womens.

Blaze is put in an ambulance, and when it pans to the driver, it’s the son, wearing his father’s mask. The film ends, the credits roll, and I move on to the next one.

Overall, I laughed throughout. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend this film, but if you’re bored on New Year’s Eve and feel like a “horror” film, this one isn’t the *worst* one you could watch. Below, you’ll find a breakdown of the ESE rating I gave it.

Quick ESE explanation: every film starts with 50 points for being a film. From there, I add or deduct points based on... my whim.

35/100

50 +4 for packed punk convertible +2 for New Year’s Evil 80s metal theme song +1 for switchblade comb -5 for coat tails with blue jeans -5 for creepy incestuous mother-son duo -2 for Mermaid Man pronunciation of “Ee-vil!” +10 for “I always come well-equipped.” “I bet you do” -5 for punks moshing to some funky blues -5 for predictable horror movie trope deaths +2 for maniacal punk laugh +3 for the “Oops” because he pissed off the bikers +5 for punks booing the police at the New Year’s Evil party -7 for the creepy incestual feeling of the interactions between Blaze and Derek +10 for PLOT TWIST!!!! -25 for the woman-hating killer +5 for creative elevator thing +2 for Hamlet quote -5 for highly predictable ending

#movies #world records #most movies watched #New Year's Evil #New Year's #review #spoilers #80s films #punk movies

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damn-daemon · 5 years

Note

Is there a chance of getting a snippet of Timeless? *puppy eyes*

(Okay, I lied, I have some now. It’s only Clara. If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll put up some Yvonne later)

Washington, D.C. – 2014

One of these days, Clara told herself she was going to learn her lesson when it came to grabbing coffee at the last minute, or anything at the last minute for that matter. There was an unwritten, universal law dictating that if you need to be somewhere, anything and everything will stand in your way – red lights, pedestrians, little old ladies who have clearly never ordered a cup of coffee in their lives.

Now, she knew it was rude – those menus were not made for beginners after all – but the thought of picking the woman up by the shoulders and placing her somewhere else had crossed her mind. It’s D.C., and if you’re not with the program, it’s better that you step aside and let the adults get to work.

But she didn’t do it – because she’s not that person – and instead resigned herself to her fate. She blew a stray hair out of her face and avoided looking at her phone for the fifth time that minute. Instead, she took to reading over the menu.

Once.

Twice.

By the third time, her eyes were beginning to glaze over.

When fate finally decided that she had suffered long enough and the woman shuffled away, having ordered the first thing she was offered several minutes ago, Clara stepped up to the counter and slammed her money down, exact change and all.

“You were thinking it, weren’t you?” Kelly, her barista and occasional friend, asked, charging the usual order. Two coffees. One pitch black, and the other full of so much creamer, it probably didn’t qualify as coffee in certain countries. “I know everyone else was.”

“If you’re referring to the forcible removal of a certain roadblock, I don’t know what you mean,” Clara replied, taking her receipt. “I’m a nice person, and nice people don’t think like that.”

“That’s too bad. Guy behind you probably would have proposed if you acted on your ‘non-thoughts.’”

Clara turned around to a businessman who had been staring at his phone – and totally not her ass – and gave him a onceover. Ginger. Tall. Well-dressed. Smiled like a creep. No thanks.

Rolling her eyes, Clara swept around to the other end of the counter to wait for her order. “I don’t come here to get a date. I’m here for the mediocre chain coffee that convinces my boss that I like him slightly more than this rest of his worker drones.”

“Hey, what do you mean mediocre?”

Clara gave the barista a look that she eventually caved to.

“Alright, alright, fine, but you can’t blame a girl for trying,” Kelly said as she shuffled over to her side of the counter, making a point to ignore the growing line of impatient customers. It left her co-worker to deal with the mess for the time being. Clara hadn’t realized it was possible to shoot daggers while making pleasant conversation about nutmeg. “I worry about you.”

She sipped at her coffee. “What’s there to worry about? I’m fine.”

“How can you say you’re fine when you return to that empty apartment every night?”

Kelly was ever the champion of true love, having married her high school sweetheart. Ten years, two kids, and five annual trips to Disney World later, she remained utterly convinced of it. Which was fine for her. Clara only wished she would stop trying to make her a convert.

“I can say it very easily, actually, and in only two syllables: I’m. Fine,” Clara replied, leaning against the counter. A man reached around her for his drink, but she hardly paid any attention to him. “Besides, my apartment isn’t empty. Mister Bubbles is there to keep an eye on things.”

The barista raised an eyebrow. “Mister Bubbles?”

“Well, Señor Cornelius Ricardo Ramon Bubbles the Third was a bit of a mouthful, but given we are both professionals, we refer to one another on a last name basis.”

There was a beat. Another man came for coffee he could barely reach.

Kelly sighed. “This is why a goldfish doesn’t make up for human interaction.”

“Hey, I get plenty of human interaction,” Clara replied, pointing an accusing finger. “My lack of socialization at night keeps me from stabbing people with my pen come morning.”

“Whatever,” the barista finally submitted, raising her hands in defeat. “Just looking out for your best interests. No need to bite my head off.”

“Look, I’m just curious as to why everyone insists that I simply cannot be happy without someone else in my life. I appreciate me, is that not enough?”

At least with her mother, she understood. It wasn’t so much about happiness as it was about getting those grandkids she wanted before she was too old to spoil them properly. She still couldn’t visit home without being bombarded by a handful of names, some who lived in the building, most she met at the local market. Her little brother, Theo, was apparently a lost cause, so all her family’s hopes and dreams rested with her.

Wonderful.

#okay but i would die for that goldfish #just saying #clara garcia #timeless

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years

Text

(Don’t) Play It Again

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Everyone has that one song that they just can’t stand for whatever reason, regardless of how good, bad, or innocuous it actually is. For you, hearing that song is like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on your head.

Gabriel, of course, takes this as a challenge.

Quick facts: Romance – [established] Gabriel/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, tildes (~) for scene breaks because Tumblr’s line breaks are nice in theory but that seems to be the only place they truly exist aside from on desktop sometimes

Words: 2512

A/N: WHEW I did not think I’d finish anything this week but I made it under the wire, even after a week from Hell with being really sick and taking someone else to the hospital. And then going to Wondercon today which, not bad, but tiring. Oh well; less whining. Here! Have a Gabriel/Reader fluffy-nonsense fic; I hope you enjoy it.

You wake to a chill where your skin meets the air and sunlight is just barely grazing the curtains. An arm slips around your stomach and pulls you back into a very warm, very bare chest. You smile as lips move from your shoulder to your earlobe.

“Gabr’l,” you say, mangling the word with a tongue still trying to sleep in the early morning hour. You wish your consciousness could claim the same.

“We have some time,” he says, still kissing with light brushes of his lips over your bare skin. “Before you have to get up and…ugh…be responsible.”

You laugh as the motions begin to tickle and the rest of your body begins to stir. Well, he has a point. Especially the ‘ugh’ part, so you're more than willing to add something nice to the morning…

Until the alarm goes off.

The alarm being the crappy clock radio by the side of the bed that tunes into the most static-riddled radio station you’ve heard playing that fucking song. You slam your hand on the top of the radio once, twice, but it isn’t until the fourth hit that the thing finally turns off and it’s too late– you’re very much awake now and very much not in a good mood. In any form or fashion.

“Uh…everything okay?” Gabriel asks, looking at you warily. If he wasn’t who he was you’d expect a splash of holy water or handful of salt.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just…out of the mood,” you say and sit up.

“What? Why?” Gabriel asks, on the edge of pouting. “Where do you have to go in such a hurry?”

You chuckle and give him a little kiss on the nose. He scrunches it in displeasure. “Sorry Gabriel,” you say and slip out of his hold to get dressed.

“Seriously, what did you set that alarm for?”

“The alarm was set well in advance so timing isn’t a problem. It’s that fucking song.” You stick out your tongue like it can get rid of the bad taste.

“The…song?” Gabriel sounds almost as confused as Castiel at his most angelic.

“I can’t stand that song. It’s just…” You shudder. “If I listen to it too much it puts me in a bad mood. Certainly knocks me right out of that mood, so that’s one more reason to hate it.”

“It’s…” Gabriel appears in front of you. “It’s just a song. It’s dumb, yeah, but you’ve listened to way worse.”

“Maybe.” You lean forward and kiss him again. “But it is what it is. Honestly, I cannot hate that song any more than I already do.”

Gabriel pouts and you laugh, leaving him to sulk quietly. He’ll get over it, you figure, because he always does. And hey– once you’re showered, maybe you’ll be up to making the morning a little better for the both of you.

And you do. However, you really should have chosen your earlier words more carefully.

“How’s it hangin’ sweetcheeks?”

You stop before you can take a bite and glance up with wary amusement, half-expecting Gabriel to be dressed in neon, or like a villain from an eighties teen movie. But Gabriel looks as Gabriel always tends to look– blending in. More or less.

“Hey.” Gabriel swipes a fry and waves it at you. “Johnny Lawrence has nothing on me.”

“Of course not,” you say as he starts eating your food. Somehow (“somehow”) the amount of fries remains the same. “Are you riding with me?”

“No.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “I promised Castiel I’d help him with something.”

“What a nice big brother you are,” you say and laugh when he flicks a fry bit at you. Suddenly he appears next to you and kisses you deeply, salt melding and melting between your tongues.

Gabriel pulls back abruptly and winks. “Thanks for the snack, Sugar,” he says, and vanishes.

Shockingly, his disappearing act draws no notice. Well, Gabriel can be subtle. When he wants. So you just shake your head, pick up your burger, and prepare to take a bite.

That’s when you hear it.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you say and drop your food. But no– it’s that song. And this stupid place has the volume up too loud for you to ignore it. You rifle through your bag but your headphones are nowhere to be found, of course. Thankfully, by the time you’re done searching, the song is at least almost over with.

Then the sound system glitches.

And it starts from the beginning.

“F–” You toss your food back in the bag and take it to go. Apparently it’s just one of those days.

A few hours later you’re driving to the next state over when The Song comes on the radio. On two different stations. You punch it off but that’s…weird. Really weird.

The road is straight, flat, and empty. You slip on your Bluetooth and make a call.

“Hey,” Dean answers, not short of breath or otherwise distressed. Good.

“Are you involved in whatever Cas needed Gabe’s help for?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s actually being pretty helpf–” Dean’s voice becomes fainter, like he’s turned away from the phone. Even though it’s a cell phone. You roll your eyes, but smile at Gabriel’s voice in the background. Your smile grows when Dean’s voice becomes clearer with, “–not going to tell them you love them! You got your own damn phone.” Dean huffs. “Anyway, what’d you want?”

“Tell Gabe I love him too.”

“Wh– I’m not going to–” There are kissy noises in the background but still relatively close and Dean swears. “You two are disgusting,” he says and hangs up.

You laugh and toss your earpiece onto the passenger seat. So, it’s not Gabriel then. You’ll have to tell him about all this later– far from being offended, he’ll probably get a kick out of it.

You’re speaking with a witness who might have information on whatever the hell you’re hunting, when some sort of instrument starts playing. If it was tuned you might have a shot at figuring out what it is. (A tuba? You think?)

“I’m sorry,” the woman says and winces at a…a very interesting note. “My Oliver has to practice for school.”

“I understand completely,” you say and open your notebook. “Now, you told–” In with discordant notes you can barely hear it, but once you do hear that song, you can’t stop hearing it no matter how badly the kid is trying to mangle it. “Son of a bitch!”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, um, just a flash of insight,” you say quickly and scribble some nonsense on the page. You give the woman your kindest smile.

“Oh, well all right then,” she says and sits a little straighter. You carry on with the interview as the kid practices. And practices. And practices.

To his credit, the song does get more recognizable as time goes on.

By the end of the interview, your eye is twitching and Yvonne, the very nice lady who has inadvertently helped you identify someone within the police as the town’s source of problems, looks concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Job hazard,” you say and smile blandly. “Thank you for your time, ma’am.”

The song starts again, and you’re too tired to even grind your teeth. You really need to kill something.

What happens if you tear out a werewolf’s heart with your bare hands before you jam silver in it?

At first you assume the song is having a resurgence. Or maybe it never actually went away, you just got lucky. In either case, you’re hearing it a lot again.

Naturally, it is not putting you in the best mood.

“Are you okay?” Sam murmurs as you both sit at the bar, waiting for the monster du jour to take Dean’s bait.

“I’m fine,” you say and watch Dean work. He’s doing good, charming the pants right off the bitch who very obviously wants to drain him dry. But then the chorus starts and you twitch. “God I hope this nest is big. I want piles of heads. Piles.”

“Easy, Venom,” Sam says and you actually stare at him. He frowns. “I’m not completely out of the loop.”

You snort and go back to watching Dean. Though you try to tune out the song, it seeps into your consciousness regardless and Sam jabs you a couple of times to make you lighten up. When Dean and the vamp leave you have to slow up to keep off their heels.

You clear out half the nest on your own. Dean and Sam are impressed and frightened, respectively. Or both, equally.

You’re currently at a drive-in with Gabriel and channeling your inner rebellious fifties teenager. You have no idea what the movie’s about. It’s fantastic.

And then.

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asks, ruffled in a way you wish you could appreciate.

But not right now. Those opening bars… He opens his mouth and you shush him. As the next notes come, you recognize it as a goddamn slow cover version of that fucking song. You let out a heavy sigh and try not to grind your teeth as you sink back into your seat.

“What just happened?” Gabriel asks, looking from you to the screen and back again.

“I, uh…” But irritation is rising and the mood is fading. You are tired. You are just…tired.

“It’s not–” Gabriel guffaws. “You're joking.”

“I. Wish.”

Gabriel makes a ‘tsk’ noise and leans in closer to you. “Come on; I’ll take your mind off of it.”

“No.”

“But–”

“Gabriel.”

Sufficiently convinced that no, you’re not kidding, he sits back in his seat, and glares straight ahead. His hands, once roving over your body, are folded under his crossed arms, and his lips, just moments ago grazing your skin, are furrowed into a pout.

You hate that you can literally say that this song is now ruining your life.

However.

Maybe less than a week later you’re in a movie theater, suffering through that same mediocre film and posing as an usher as you scout a potential haunting. But when the scene comes on…the song doesn’t play.

Hm.

It’s a nice day in the library. A quiet one. As of late, Dean won’t even play his own music around you, just in case. You figure it’s better that way. And today, working around Dean and Sam and Cas, the silence is nice.

At some point, though, Cas starts humming. That’s…strange. He keeps his face in his book while you, Sam, and Dean all trade confused and bewildered looks. And the way Cas is humming is very mechanical– like he’s trying to remember each note as he gets to it. You and Sam smile, and Dean rolls his eyes but you see a smile start to form before he puts his head back down. You and Sam follow suit, and while you’re cleaning up a clumsy translation, you let the song filter through your brain in the background. It sounds so familiar, you just can’t place–

Wait.

“Son of a bitch!” you hiss and slam your book shut hard enough to make the table rattle and Sam and Dean jump.

“Uh oh,” Dean mutters as Cas slowly lifts his head.

“Are you all right?” Cas asks, somewhat wary.

Not wary enough, but you do your breathing exercises. “I’m fine. Castiel…” You breathe deep. “That’s an…interesting song.”

“It is,” Cas says and looks thoughtful. “Very ‘catchy.’ That’s the word, right?”

“Mm hm. That’s…a word,” you say and steadfastly stare at your project. It goes back to being quiet.

Then Cas starts again, and your pencil snaps in your hand.

“Uh, Cas, let’s–” Sam clears his throat and bumps the table when he scrambles to get up. “Cas, can I talk to you? Somewhere else?”

“I suppose so,” Cas says slowly and stands.

“I’ll help,” Dean says, closing his laptop and backing away from you like you’re a hungry tiger. Sam and Dean then basically run away with Cas caught in between them.

You sigh and let your forehead fall against the table. This has got to end. Soon.

You don’t let anything musical come on for a solid week. The alarm buzzes, you drive with only the wind rushing past your ears, and the TV gets muted ASAP. The things you can’t control– stores, homes, cars with a broken volume button– you…handle. So far, you haven’t heard it again, but you stay on edge, just waiting.

“You look like a live wire, Sugarplum.” Gabriel cracks his fingers and wiggles them. “C’mere and let me work out some of those kinks. And then we can work out a different set of kinks.”

Tempting. You’d very much like to work out some tension, but you’re just not up for it. Gabriel is a good time– and a very involved time. “No thanks, Gabe; I’m really tired.”

“I could energize you,” he offers and reaches, but you dodge him quickly, if clumsily.

“Thanks, but all I need is some sleep,” you say and blow him a kiss. “Good night, Gabriel,” you say, shut off the lights, and go to bed.

You hope the message is received.

Several days later, after you’ve moved on from the last hunt, you wake up to a song on the radio. Your stomach sinks in dread, but what’s playing is…pleasant. It’s not that song. As far from that song as possible. It’s not your favorite, but the sound of it is benign and the memory of it is…

“May I have this dance?” Gabriel asks, leaning over you and kissing your neck.

You smile as he trails kisses on your skin. “If you had been a real, actual trickster, I probably would have been dead. You were so smooth.”

“Not even a demi-god could have killed you,” he says.

You chuckle and turn over to kiss him. “Still are smooth.”

“I was hoping you’d notice,” he says, eyes glinting in the light. “No hunts lined up today, right?”

“No helping Cas with his mysterious project?”

“Completely done.”

You eye him. “Completely, one-hundred percent, done done?”

“Done forever,” Gabriel says. He affects innocence so well sometimes you can only hope you’re speaking the same language right now, but then his lips cover yours and, well, you’re certainly speaking the same language there.

You break for air and Gabriel looks pretty pleased with himself. You smile and hover just in front of his mouth. “Hey Gabriel?”

“Hmmmmm?”

You trail a finger down his chest. “Every second I hear that song will be a week you feel without me touching you. Comprende?”

“Si, mi amor,” Gabriel says and a painfully fake moustache appears on his face, fresh out of Casa Erotica.

“Ew, I finally found something worse than that song,” you say and start to pull back, but Gabriel drags you back in. You laugh, he gets rid of the moustache, and you both spend the rest of the morning making out to the sounds of the song that played when you first met.

#gabriel x reader #gabriel spn #spn reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #fluff

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parabataisarah · 5 years

Text

BOOK 3, CHAPTER 10

Masterlist here.

Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn, @roonarific, @sceptilemasterr, @endlessly-searching-for-you, @irrelevanthough, @likethetailofacomet, @indiacater.

Reactions under the ‘Keep Reading’ cut.

- So, one can assume MC and LI are getting married today?

- Awh, can I wrap Aleister in a hug?

- I love them.

- T’KAL! HEY BUDDY!

- Seraxa and Taari better be okay!

- Oh thank god, Taari is okay!

- Let’s be optimistic. A better future starts today.

- Awh, Vaanti are getting married today, heck yeah!

- Let’s fuckin’ get married.

- ‘Your friends begin to applaud and cheer! Raj runs around high five-ing everyone!’ I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I love this group.

- Diego is acting like an emotional parent would. I love him.

- Again, I love the bromance all the ES dudes have together.

- That’s such a pretty dress! Ahhh!

- “And that is how to look like a goddess on your wedding day.” Michelle, I love you so much.

- ‘A soft smile appears on Sean’s lips, and tears in his eyes.’ BOI ME TOO, THE HELL??

- !!!! ARE THEY GETTING HANDFASTED TOO???????!!!!!

- WHY ASK ME?!?!? IF YOU LOVE HIM, WHICH YOU CLEARLY DO, SAY YES!

- YEAH BOIS!

- *voice cracks* I love you too, Sean.

- Hell yeah! Raj is my wedding planner! I love him.

- Uuuuuhhhh, Michelle is gonna be my maid of honor!

- Ahh, it’s The Endless’ book. What secrets are we gonna find in there?

- ‘7 0 5′ ‘2 4 6′ ‘3 8 1′ Well, they all equal 12 from the ways you can look at them?

- Aye! I got it right!

- “Are you ready to make your entrance?” FUCK NOPE!

- ‘Jake grins as you pass, offering a quick salute and a wink.’ PFFFT

- YVONNE! MALATESTA! HIIII!

- ‘Estela simply nods, her affection for you glowing in her dark eyes.’ Sweetheart, I’m gonna cry.

- Hey there, handsome boy!

- OOOO, we get to pick our own vows?

- Oooo, Quinn and Kele, huh?

- Do y’all need me, because if you don’t I’m gonna cry in a corner. This is too sweet and soft and pure, and I just, love.

- You already know what flower I’m going with.

- I. Love. Them.

- MC just called Sean husband, and I just... *gestures into the corner* Emotions.

- There’s dust in my eye, I swear.

- gncvgfnjdx.

- ^^ I can’t convey my feelings into words rn.

- Give Sean and MC kids!!!

- Oh no. Did I say something wrong with picking the kids option? Whoops, no regrets.

- ‘Romance Up! Sean is now in love with you!’ HELL YEAH LADS!

- I know he’s just a bunch of pixels programmed to say all this stuff, but like... my heart is so full?

- I know it’s real sad that MC can’t remember their parents or anything, but really, aside from HSS, HSS:CA and TF, PB doesn’t really give MC family/parents.

- I love him. Geez, this chapter is turning me soft.

- Honey, if I didn’t trust you in the slightest, do you really think I’d have gotten handfasted to you?

- *insert side eye emojis*

- *suggestive eyebrows*

- Y’all know I picked the “Kiss lower” option.

- Michelle was crying. Why is she crying?!

- Y’all already know I’m getting my girl’s Ember!

- Awh, I want Sean’s mum to be happy and healthy and I want Michelle to be okay.

- Awh, Sean gave her apology flowers! Good job PB for actually checking out the meaning!

- So, process of elimination means that Zahra’s Ember is next?

- GASP! SO THIS IS WHERE THAT ES SELFIE COMES FROM!

- Wait, I wanted to screenshot that photo :/ but it came across in a portrait mode???

- I wanted that photo goddamit.

BONUS SCENE

- Awh, bye Endless!

- Rourke and Lundgren can piss off.

- Wait, whose Rourke’s Daughter?

#playchoices #endless summer #es #choices es #sarah's liveblog

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deztinywarriors · 5 years

Text

The Linked Charms - Episode 5 (Multi Liverpool players)

#Football fanfiction #Trent Alexander Arnold #Andrew Robertson #Mohamed Salah #Virgil van Dijk #Liverpool FC #football imagine

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hellostarlight20 · 6 years

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Soldier’s Solstice 14/

One upon a time, the Doctor could talk for England. That time has passed, and now he isn’t much for conversation. He retired to a small cottage on the Welsh coast. He rescued a dog and named her Idris. He had no contact with the rest of his family. His plan was to stay there, with minimal contact with the outside world, and heal.

And then the single-person space pod crashed to his beach during his pre-dawn run. So much for his quiet life.

Nine/Rose Nine is a human, Rose is an alien Soldiers/warriors Earth-based AU Jack Harkness and Idris

As always, I’m eternally grateful to Mrs. Bertucci for her invaluable services as beta extraordinaire.

This entire story is based on a manip by the lovely @rose--nebula.

AO3 and TSP

The Doctor watched Rose, asleep now. They’d made love twice, enjoying each other in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. He wasn’t fanciful enough to think it was because she was Rose or an alien, but they did share traits and qualities.

Her startlingly golden eyes blinked open and met his.

“You should sleep more.” He brushed her hair off her cheeks; the long strands tangled beneath her. “Don’t know how much sleep Powellans need, but I’m sure it’s more than a few hours.”

She stretched, her supple muscles pulling and teasing him. The Doctor leaned over and kissed her shoulder, cupped her breast. He wanted to taste her, spend hours doing so until neither remembered how to move. Or wanted to.

“I’m not used to sleeping much. Never knew when the next attack would strike.” She frowned. “And the castle…it had its own dangers.”

Rose didn’t elaborate, and the Doctor didn’t push. Not tonight, not now. He slid out of bed instead, pushing past the awkwardness.

“Hungry then?” He pulled on a pair of pants and his jeans. Before buttoning them, he turned to look at her. Beautiful.

“You have such an abundance of food.” Rose shook her head in marvel. “I’ve heard of such things on my planet, but I don’t remember ever seeing fields of grain or fish in the sea. Can we walk along the water again?”

She slipped from bed and stretched again, humming in what the Doctor liked to think was contentment. She closed the distance between them and draped her arms over his shoulders, fingers teasing the back of his neck. Her naked body pressed to his, and the Doctor’s hands settled on her hips.

“We can do whatever you like.” He let his lips linger on hers. “I’m sure Idris would love to show you her favorite spots.”

Rose brightened and laughed. “I’d enjoy that, too.”

“Get dressed.” The Doctor stepped back, reluctant to leave her. “I have a coat you can wear; the beach gets cold and windy after sundown.”

He stepped out the bedroom door and Idris immediately leapt at him. The Doctor caught her, pushing her aside as she nipped at his chin.

“I think she missed you,” Rose said, holding out her bra for help. “How do I put this on again?”

The Doctor calmed Idris down and tried to extract himself from her exuberant attention. “Crazy dog,” he muttered, but without any heat. “What would you do if I’d have closed the door, eh?”

He scratched Idris’s head, hushing her. She eventually calmed, then whined at Rose and leapt onto the bed.

“Idris!” The Doctor shouted. “Down!”

But Rose cooed and cuddled her, half dressed, and smiling widely. “Aw, there’s a sweet Idris. Miss me? Yes, there’s a good girl.”

“She’s never leaving the bed again,” the Doctor scowled. “I can see it now.”

He snatched the bra from the bed and tugged Rose up. She laughed at him and kissed the underside of his jaw. Slipping the bra over her shoulders, he tried not to think about Jack doing the same thing. The image burned in his mind’s eye.

“Did Jack help you on with this earlier?” he asked before he realized he needed to shut up.

“He showed me how to work it.” Rose looked over her shoulder and winked at him. His fingers fumbled on the clasp. “But he didn’t put it on, no.”

“Good.”

Rose laughed again, and the Doctor knew he’d give up anything for that sound, to hear her laugh like that always.

He called Idris off the bed and finished dressing himself. Grabbing his leather jacket from the hall closet, he searched for another one for Rose. He had none. Only the battered black leather jacket he currently wore.

Damn.

“I can wear one of your jumpers.” Rose shrugged and returned to the bedroom.

When she exited, she wore a maroon jumper over her own clothing. The Doctor nearly swallowed his tongue. He stood before her before he realized he moved, and kissed her hard. He’d never been one to care if a woman wore his clothing, always found it unnecessary.

Rose changed his mind.

“You can wear my clothing all the time,” he said against her mouth.

“Good to know,” she gasped, looking slightly dazed.

Satisfied, chuffed truth be told, the Doctor stepped back and took her hand. Whistling for Idris, he grabbed her lead off the hook by the rear door and clipped it on her.

Rose stood on the patio stones, eyes closed, head tilted to the sky. The sun set along the beach, casting her in shadows, and he stared, awed by her very presence, by the fact she had landed in his life. He’d known her not quite an entire day, yet the Doctor felt as if he’d known her lifetimes.

“Thank you.” Rose opened her eyes and met his. “I don’t remember if I said it, but it can’t be said enough. Thank you for finding me and taking me in. Thank you for protecting me and housing me.”

She squeezed his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. Idris, surprisingly, sat at his side and waited. The Doctor knew it wasn’t for him, but because of Rose.

“And thank you for—for—” Rose frowned but almost immediately offered that grin with her tongue teasing the corner of her lips. The Doctor stared, mesmerized. “How does one thank you for wonderful sex and understanding the need for it.”

He blinked and laughed. “Not sure anyone’s ever thanked me for that.” He shrugged and tugged her hand. “But it was pretty fantastic.”

She laughed with him, that same amazing, openly happy sound, and they walked down to the beach, Idris already straining the lead.

They walked toward the inlet where Idris liked digging up cockles. The Doctor released her lead and she went running. He led Rose along the shoreline, as she bombarded him with questions about water, beaches, tides, and marine animals.

The sun dipped lower, but neither made any move to leave. He had no idea such contentment could be found on a beach he hated with a woman he very much wanted to know better.

“I’d love to show you Powell,” she whispered. “Before, when it lived, not as I knew it.” Rose sighed and pulled away.

She walked to the waterline and the Doctor let her. He let her have a couple minutes; he knew all too well the instinctual need for solitude, for silence, for just a moment. He gave that to her, then followed. He also knew what it was like, bearing the weight of one’s past, the decisions and the consequences.

The lives.

“I’m sure it was beautiful,” he whispered and took her hand. “One day maybe you can describe it to me.”

Rose sniffed and smiled up at him. “Maybe, one day.”

The Doctor kissed her forehead then whistled for Idris. Just as his dog bounded up to him, well bounded up to Rose, he caught sight of a figure at the end of the beach. Idris, caught sight of it, too. She stiffened and growled, hackles rising.

“Idris,” he warned.

The Doctor recognized the figure. Yvonne Hartman.

#ficandchips #Nine x Rose #romance #idris #Nine as human #Rose as alien

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prettylittleliarsxxxx · 7 years

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61 Thoughts I Had During 7x13 “Hold Your Piece”

enjoy the salty ride, my friends

also, again, i’m super hard on hanna again this week so if you like time jump hanna....look away.

uh ok

serious question, why would spencer stay in the same place as that boardgame?? like I’d be crashing with someone, or crashing in the main house like ??? who wants to stay in the barn with that cursed thing

*whispers angrily instead of gently* why do none of them care about spencer

why is hanna such a bitchhhhhh i’m so tired of time jump hanna. like she’s basically au!hanna, this is not the hanna we knew sorry but she isn’t

ironically, they acknowledge blogs but don’t acknowledge the tumblr fanbase because we don’t have our lips suctioned to their asses

we know you guys can legally drink, sweet crickets

like I don’t even LIKE toby but like … .. .. ….. I actually thought he had so much potential with Yvonne

*groans at marco* WHY! DONT! THE! WRITERS! LET! THE! GIRLS! HAVE! CAREERS!

and why don’t they let them be happily single!!!!!! NOT ALL OF US ARE DYING TO BE IN RELATIONSHIPS

fun fact, i’ve been around computers all my life, my brothers are both in IT, my brother was practically teaching the college classes he attended because he knew it better than his professors, and like, i’m not at liberty to discuss some of the shit they may or may not have gotten into, but. they knew their way around a good hack, alright? i know snarf’ing is a thing but I’ve literally never heard anybody actually SAY it, not the amount these people do either

also i saw a post about how it’s hard to take a.d seriously because of this fucking phone and how spongebob squarepants it is and alksdghlakshg SERIOUSLY I SWEAR TO GOD ITS THE SAME FONT AND EVERYTHING

caleb she knows, you…you did that to her phone, way back when, remember? you literally recorded her

it means to fucking find the appendix, hanna

YASSSS PING PONG

ping pong is so fucking fun

for my brothers wedding photos, we had a photo of him, his wife, my other brother and me all dressed up and playing ping pong in the resort game room, it was great

god imagine if yvonne got to live. i mean really. fuuuuck you marlene

like i hate toby and this is actually super sweet

i can’t believe they ended one of the best ships they’ve had ever alkdshgalkheglkeh fuckin idiots

anyway lucas is shady as hell

i super doubt sydney is the other shooter but ok

you don’t have to say it like you’re cutting open a fucking cat, hanna

spencer’s jeans tho damn

your mom*, spencer

i might not care about sydney or her useless character but god damn she looks good

spicy tuna roll

he actually

he actually said that

why are the straights like this

I mean it isn’t her fault as far as we know, emily

like I legit don’t care about sydney but chloe bridges !!! i love her

please, she’s just another pawn. she’s probably getting blackmailed to do this

kaldshg;laksghklhasdg again with the crappy capital letters while texting!!! “It’s Done.” oh my god

*giggle* oh my god you were CHUBBY??? *giggle*

*slams head on desk*

anyway i love aria and i’d die for her

look at these girls getting shit done

“don’t forget your yoga pants”

“namaste, bitch” laksdhglhs

does bryan holdman really think women talk to each other this way or

shut the fuck up caleb nobody likes you

lkhadslgkhalshg SPENCER YEEEE GET INT THERE WITH YOUR “I JUST SPENT THE WHOEL DAY WITH SOMEONE I REALLY LIKE” AHHAHAHAHAHHAHA

yeah because you weren’t good to her you sack of shit shut the fuck up

thank god for that gas attack

once again hanna has to put aside her career for a man what a shock

on super girl this week, two lesbians were talking about their firsts and it was a life or death situation but nobody died

talking about firsts with someone doesn’t have to conclude in death, writers, take note

like this is all kinds of bullshit tbh

fuck marlene king

lol when did caleb start caring about her career? was it when he was banging her best friend or???

like this is all hanna ever wanted, why won’t the writers let her have it

shut the fuck up hanna you’re such a bitch jesus christ

all YOU, hanna, had to do was show up to a fucking investment meeting. you didn’t get to do it because YOUR boyfriend FUCKED UP you dumb wench

and let us not forget, HANNA, your mistake of going fucking rogue is what ended up almost KILLING SPENCER so shut your fucking mouth

i’m 10/10 more emotional about toby and yvonne than i am about caleb lol

so sabrina just. disappears off screen. great.

also can you fucking believe ezra is leaving aria to run his fucking business

so nicole looks like hell, is she gonna die too?

aklsdghalkhglkha marco tho “ugh that’s not good” aldkshglh

i was gonna ask what the point of this is but obviously that’s gonna be rollin’s finger

#pll #pretty little liars #pll spoilers #spoilers #recap #reactions #hold your piece #pll 7x13 #pretty little liars 7x13 #anti hanna marin

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lesbianrewrites · 7 years

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Sorcerer’s Stone Chapter 02

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of Harry Potter by J.K Rowling.

Chapters will be posted every other day at 9pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

The Vanishing Glass

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursley's front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets — but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another child lived in the house, too.

Yet Hayley Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Her Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

“Up! Get up! Now!”

Hayley woke with a start. Her aunt rapped on the door again.

“Up!” she screeched. Hayley heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. She rolled onto her back and tried to remember the dream she had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. She had a funny feeling she’d had the same dream before.

Her aunt was back outside the door.

“Are you up yet?” she demanded.

“Nearly,” said Hayley.

“Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don’t you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy’s birthday.”

Hayley groaned.

“What did you say?” her aunt snapped through the door.

“Nothing, nothing …”

Dudley’s birthday — how could she have forgotten? Hayley got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. She found a pair under her bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Hayley was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where she slept.

When she was dressed she went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley’s birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Hayley, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise — unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley’s favorite punching bag was Hayley, but he couldn’t often catch her. Hayley didn’t look it, but she was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Hayley had always been small and skinny for her age. She looked even smaller and skinnier than she really was because all she had to wear were old clothes of Dudley’s, and Dudley was about four times bigger than she was, so a number of his shirts looked more like very ugly dresses on her. Who knows what would happen when she eventually needed to wear a bra! Hayley couldn’t see Aunt Petunia buying them for her, and she had never had any money to speak of.

Hayley had a thin face, knobbly knees, dark skin, black hair, and bright green eyes. She wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched her on the nose. The only thing Hayley liked about her own appearance was a very thin scar on her forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. She had had it as long as she could remember, and the first question she could ever remember asking her Aunt Petunia was how she had gotten it.

“In the car crash when your parents died,” she had said. “And don’t ask questions.”

Don’t ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Hayley was turning over the bacon.

“Brush your hair!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Hayley needed a haircut. Hayley must have had more haircuts than all the boys in her class put together, but it made no difference, her hair simply grew that way — a long curly mess which reached down to her mid back.

Hayley was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel — Hayley often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Hayley put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn’t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

“Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father. “That’s two less than last year.”

“Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy.”

“All right, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face. Hayley, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down her bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?”

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, “So I’ll have thirty … thirty …”

“Thirty-nine, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia.

“Oh.” Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. “All right then.”

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

“Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. ’Atta boy, Dudley!” He ruffled Dudley’s hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Hayley and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

“Bad news, Vernon,” she said. “Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take her.” She jerked her head in Hayley’s direction.

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror, but Hayley’s heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley’s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Hayley was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Hayley hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made her look at photographs of all the cats she’d ever owned.

“Now what?” said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Hayley as though she’d planned this. Hayley knew she ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn’t easy when she reminded herself it would be a whole year before she had to look at Tibbies, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

“We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon suggested.

“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the girl.”

The Dursleys often spoke about Hayley like this, as though she wasn’t there — or rather, as though she was something very nasty that couldn’t understand them, like a slug.

“What about what’s-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?”

“On vacation in Majorca,” snapped Aunt Petunia.

“You could just leave me here,” Hayley put in hopefully (she’d be able to watch what she wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley’s computer).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she’d just swallowed a lemon.

“And come back and find the house in ruins?” she snarled.

“I won’t blow up the house,” said Hayley, but they weren’t listening.

“I suppose we could take her to the zoo,” said Aunt Petunia slowly, “… and leave her in the car. …”

“That cars new, she’s not sitting in it alone. …”

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn’t really crying — it had been years since he’d really cried — but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

“Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry, Mummy won’t let her spoil your special day!” she cried, flinging her arms around him.

“I … don’t … want … her … t-t-to come!” Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. “She always sp-spoils everything!” He shot Hayley a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang — “Oh, good Lord, they’re here!” said Aunt Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Petra Polkiss, walked in with her mother. Petra was a scrawny girl with a face like a rat. She was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Hayley, who couldn’t believe her luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys’ car with Petra and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in her life. Her aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do with her, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had taken Hayley aside.

“I’m warning you,” he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Hayley’s, “I’m warning you now, girl — any funny business, anything at all — and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.”

I’m not going to do anything,” said Hayley, “honestly …”

But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe her. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Hayley and it was just no good telling the Dursleys she didn’t make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Hayley coming back from the hair salon looking as though she hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of electric clippers and shaved her hair so short she was almost bald except for her bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar.” Dudley had laughed himself silly at Hayley, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where she was already laughed at for her baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, she had gotten up to find her hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had shaved it off. She had been given a week in her cupboard for this, even though she had tried to explain that she couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force her into a revolting old sweater of Dudley’s (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over her head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Hayley. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to her great relief, Hayley wasn’t punished.

On the other hand, she’d gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley’s gang had been chasing her as usual when, as much to Hayley’s surprise as anyone else’s, there she was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Hayley’s headmistress telling them Hayley had been climbing school buildings. But all she’d tried to do (as she shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of her cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Hayley supposed that the wind must have caught her in mid-jump.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Petra to be spending the day somewhere that wasn’t school, her cupboard, or Mrs. Figg’s cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Hayley, the council, Hayley, the bank, and Hayley were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

“… roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,” he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

“I had a dream about a motorcycle,” said Hayley, remembering suddenly. “It was flying.”

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Hayley, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: “MOTORCYCLES DON’T FLY!”

Dudley and Petra sniggered.

“I know they don’t,” said Hayley. “It was only a dream.”

But she wished she hadn’t said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than her asking questions, it was her talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon — they seemed to think she might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Petra large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Hayley what she wanted before they could hurry her away, they bought her a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn’t bad, either, Hayley thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn’t blond.

Hayley had the best morning she’d had in a long time. She was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Petra, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn’t fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting her. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn’t have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Hayley was allowed to finish the first.

Hayley felt, afterward, that she should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Petra wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a trash can — but at the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

“Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t budge.

“Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

“This is boring,” Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Hayley moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least she got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Hayley’s.

It winked.

Hayley stared. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t. She looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Hayley a look that said quite plainly:

“I get that all the time.”

“I know,” Hayley murmured through the glass, though she wasn’t sure the snake could hear her. “It must be really annoying.”

The snake nodded vigorously.

“Where do you come from, anyway?” Hayley asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Hayley peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

“Was it nice there?”

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Hayley read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. “Oh, I see — so you’ve never been to Brazil?”

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Hayley made both of them jump. “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Hayley in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Hayley fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Petra and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Hayley sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past her, Hayley could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, “Brazil, here I come. … Thanksss, amiga.”

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

“But the glass,” he kept saying, “where did the glass go?”

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Petra and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Hayley had seen, the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Petra was swearing it had tried to squeeze her to death. But worst of all, for Hayley at least, was Petra calming down enough to say, “Hayley was talking to it, weren’t you, Hayley?”

Uncle Vernon waited until Petra was safely out of the house before starting on Hayley. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, “Go — cupboard — stay — no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Hayley lay in her dark cupboard much later, wishing she had a watch. She didn’t know what time it was and she couldn’t be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, she couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

She’d lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as she could remember, ever since she’d been a baby and her parents had died in that car crash. She couldn’t remember being in the car when her parents had died. Sometimes, when she strained her memory during long hours in her cupboard, she came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on her forehead. This, she supposed, was the crash, though she couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from. She couldn’t remember her parents at all. Her aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course she was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When she had been younger, Hayley had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take her away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were her only family. Yet sometimes she thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know her. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to her once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Hayley furiously if she knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at her once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken her hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Hayley tried to get a closer look.

At school, Hayley had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Hayley Potter in her baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang.

#Harry Potter #Hayley Potter #Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone #Hayley Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone #Sorcerer's Stone #HPatSS #Lesbiansafe #lesbian rewrite #lesbian rewrite project #lesbian rewrites #lesbian rewrites project #LGBT #LGBTQ #LGBTQA #LGBTQAP #Lesbian #Gay #wlw

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revivedlegend · 7 years

Note

five times + quentin cleaning his gun (for sara and ray bc i had to)

Send me ‘five times + a word’ and I’ll write a drabble about our muses based on it // selectively accepting

Five Times Quentin Lance cleaned/handled his gun around Ray and/or Sara

@drcwningvoices

It’s not his usual jurisdiction but he’s in the area. He won’t admit it to anyone else at the station, but he’s looking for Sara. She was due home an hour ago. Her phone’s dead or off and Dinah’s starting to fret beneath her normally cool exterior. Quentin’s going to find his daughter but he’s going to answer this alert first. Noise in the old warehouse off First Street - could be a lead to Sara.

He hears the noises almost as soon as he gets out of the squad car. Something that sounds like the crashing of paint cans and a grunt of pain. He draws his gun and approaches slowly. The slow dread seeps into his bones; Sara had better not be here…but then, Quentin hears voices.

“Nice job, Dummy.”

“I just gotta re-calibrate the thrust and the-”

“Ray, you can’t just give yourself rocket skates with Heelys.”

“…You think I gotta start from scratch?”

“Yeah but don’t take this as me actually telling you to make your own rocket skates.”

…He knows that voice…Quentin steps into the warehouse proper…and there she is. His baby girl. All golden hair and bright smiles, helping some scrawny boy to his feet.

“Sara Yvonne Lance, what the hell are you doing?”

Cue crashing noises as the boy falls to the ground once more. Given his startled stare, it’s due to the gun and not the sudden voice. His daughter isn’t flustered at all, chirping out a bright “Hi Daddy. This is Ray. He’s a science nerd.” Aforementioned science nerd manages a weak wave, still staring down the barrel of the gun with utter dread. And all Quentin can do is blink, though his grim expression doesn’t dim.

Sara understands. “...We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

“Big time.”

ii.

It’s no longer uncommon for Quentin to get calls about that old warehouse - others at the station always assuming the disturbances are about “your youngest and that Palmer boy again.” And maybe seven times out of ten...it IS Sara and her little friend, working on experiments of his. Dinah suggests they just spend time over at the house but it’s maybe two months after that first meeting before Sara announces that Ray will be at the house the following evening. They have a physics test that Friday and Sara’s been slipping - perhaps more than either she or Laurel will admit to their parents but Quentin isn’t privy to his girls’ grades aside from their report cards.

There’s pizza and soda on the table beside where Quentin works. It’s been a while since he’s deep cleaned his gun - at least, that’s what he tells his wife. Though judging by Dinah’s disapproving stare, she knows better.

The young boy’s bright grin dims as he walks into the kitchen, eyes drawn to the dissembled pieces of metal like a magnet. Quentin doesn’t bother looking up for more than a second, those he’s inwardly fairly smug at the boy’s reaction. Oliver and Tommy have long since stopped being nervous around him - if they ever were. It’s nice to see a boy who knows his place.

“Raymond.” His voice is level, civil - he had promised Sara, after all.

The teenager’s gulp is almost audible, even from across the table. “D...Detective Lance,” he greets in return, trying and failing to hide his nervousness.

Sara flounces in a moment after, gathering up pizza on a paper plate for herself. She nudges Ray with her shoulder, jerking her head in the direction she had just come. “Come on, we can go work in my room.”

“Door open, young lady,” Quentin interjects, pointing the now clean and assembled but unloaded gun towards his daughter briefly. Ray flinches just a bit but Sara only rolls her eyes in response. She nudges Ray once more, urging him to get his food and follow her. And he does so, scrambling to get out from under the scrutinizing gaze of her father as quickly as possible.

It’s a few minutes later, when the pair are settled in Sara’s room, that his daughter’s exasperated voice floats down to the kitchen, to Quentin’s ears. “Oh my GOD, Ray, my dad isn’t going to kill you!”

There’s silence before his wife enters the kitchen for a slice of pizza herself. “You could look a little more upset that you’ve terrified Sara’s friend.”

“You know me, Di. ‘m not a very good actor,” Quentin teased, smile widening.

iii.

Sara looks confused and maybe a touch more flustered than intended when Laurel announces that her sister’s going to prom with her boyfriend. “Ray and I are just friends,” she insists, though the flush on pink in her cheeks betrays otherwise. For a while, Quentin thinks she’s lying but Dinah tells him he’s absurd - “She knows how much I like that boy. If they were dating, she’d tell me,” his wife insists.

No, Sara’s story is that she and Ray will be attending prom with a group of friends and would only be “together” because the rest of the group was coupled off, for pictures and the like. But Quentin can see the signs; it’s his job to read between the lines, to see what criminals try to hide. And though he can’t say he likes ANY of the boys who try to date his girls...Ray Palmer isn’t a criminal by any stretch of the imagination.

But that doesn’t stop Quentin from being able to read between the lines. The excited grins, the nervous and trembling fingers that slip the flowered corsage onto a thin wrist, the close way they stand - always just barely touching - even before Dinah announces she needs to take pictures before they leave.

Quentin returns his focus to his gun but finds it drifting back to the teenagers every time. It’s been a while since he’s seen Sara this giddy...it’s a pretty sight.

“Why don’t you too move over by the fireplace?” Quentin suggests, gesturing with the piece of disassembled weaponry in his hand. “It’ll be a nicer background.”

Their grins disappear almost immediately - Ray gulps nervously, nodding because who could refuse Detective Lance? Sara frowns - the picture of her mother - glaring at her father, silently begging him to be silent.

But their wide, excited smiles return when they leave - Ray holding the door open for Sara to exit the house first, with a promise to the Lance matriarch to have Sara home by 1. And Quentin lets them go. Because there’s gonna come a day when he can’t stop Sara anymore. And at least, she has someone else watching her back now.

iv.

“You’re an old fashioned sort of guy, Raymond.”

A slight shrug, a sheepish smile. “Not always. But I figured you’d appreciate it.”

And he does. More than he’ll admit. He stares across the table at the boy before him - no...no, young Raymond Palmer was indeed a man now. Not just because he had grown into his body - no longer gangly and scrawny but tall and shapely and muscular. But also because he seemed more self assured. He knows who he is. He knows what he wants. Even if it has taken him years to get to this point.

There’s still that nervousness shining in his eyes, following Quentin’s fingers as he works to clean his gun - though the older man suspects that Ray knows he’s not doing it to keep it clean. But he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t move away. He doesn’t stutter. He waits patiently for the man’s full attention and he stands his ground, even if he’s still a little anxious.

Quentin can respect that.

So he sets his work down and folds his hands before him, meeting the younger man’s gaze head on. “So. You want to take Sara out on a date.” It’s not a question.

Ray nods. “Yes sir.” His neutral expression gives way to a slight smile - sheepish but undeniably fond - and Quentin knows he’s not thinking about their conversation, but rather the girl it centers on. “She, uh...she thought I was kind of dumb for wanting to ask you.”

Quentin wasn’t surprised; he had long since stopped trying to control his youngest. Sara wouldn’t willingly let anyone tell her what to do, unless it was something she’d do anyway. “So why are you?”

This leaves Ray silent for a moment, only shrugging once. “I dunno. We’ve never really seen eye to eye, Detective. The, uh...the gun makes that pretty clear.” A pause and when he gathers his thoughts and meets Quentin’s gaze again, the nervousness is gone from Ray’s eyes. “But I care about Sara. Probably more than I’ve ever cared about anyone else. And I don’t want to screw things up because I wasn’t willing to bury the hatchet with you.”

Now it’s Quentin’s turn for silence. Yes. Ray Palmer was definitely a man now.

It’s a long moment before Quentin speaks. “Have her home by 12.”

“It’s Sara,” Ray laughs. “I’ll try, sir, but you know she’s going to stay out as long as she wants.”

Quentin chuckles in agreement, nodding ever so slightly. “You’re right, you’re right.”

She’s giddy again and Quentin is reminded of her prom night. The light flush in her cheeks is back, the wide and dazzling grin the prettiest thing she wears - though the dress is stunning too. She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, trying to expel her anxious energy while behind closed doors. It’s kind of an endearing sight and Quentin can’t help but chuckle.

“Easy, Angel. We’ll get going soon enough.”

“I know, I know, I just,” Sara sighs in quiet exasperation, though her smile barely dims. “I just wanna get it over with, you know? It’s...It’s been a long time coming.”

No one would argue with her on that. It had taken longer than anyone had anticipated for this day to finally arrive.

“You’ve waited for years, Sara, you can wait another five minutes,” he teases. He can see the look of protest on her face - as if she wants to whine like a teenager that she couldn’t wait - but something glints in the corner of her vision and Sara frowns lightly.

“...Daddy, why are you armed?”

“Always gotta be at the ready, Angel,” he answers, patting his shoulder holster reassuringly. He pauses for only a moment before grinning playfully at his baby girl. “Besides, one last effort to try and scare Raymond off won’t hurt anyone.”

Her exasperation dissipates slightly, giving way to a playfully tired look. “Daddy, you haven’t been able to scare off Ray for the last decade. I doubt he’s gonna suddenly decide he’s scared of you on our wedding day.”

Quentin chuckles because...yeah, the idea is absurd. Nothing is going to stop Ray and Sara from having their special day, just the way they’ve wanted it. Not even a father saddened about watching his daughter go. He knows this, he’s known this is where his daughter and her fiance were headed for years. No one - least of all an armed Quentin Lance - can stopped it now. And he doesn’t really want to, not when Sara os so happy.

The piano strikes up a familiar tune and Sara’s nervous energy is back. Quentin double checks his gun in its holster before holding his arm out for his daughter. “Come on. I think Raymond’s just as anxious as you are to get this show on the road.”

#messages #drcwningvoices #S: i've never seen a smile that can light the room like yours ; it's simply radiant (sara and ray)#C: caring for people ; protecting people ; i learned it from my dad (quentin lance)#verse: a canary who hasn't flown from her nest (teenager)#((I WIDENED THE PROMPT TO ALLOW FOR MORE STUFF BUT Y E A H I HOPE YOU LIKE IT DOTTIE))

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casualcatchycookie · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter book 1 Chapter 2

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys’ front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets — but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.

Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

“Up! Get up! Now!”

Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

“Up!” she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he’d had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

“Are you up yet?” she demanded.

“Nearly,” said Harry.

“Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don’t you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy’s birthday. ”

Harry groaned.

“What did you say?” his aunt snapped through the door.

“Nothing, nothing. . . ”

Dudley’s birthday — how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley’s birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise — unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley’s favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn’t often catch him. Harry didn’t look it, but he was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley’s, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.

“In the car crash when your parents died,” she had said. “And don’t ask questions. ”

Don’t ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

“Comb your hair!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way — all over the place.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel — Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn’t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

“Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father. “That’s two less than last year. ”

“Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy. ”

“All right, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right”

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, “So I’ll have thirty. . . thirty. . . ”

“Thirty-nine, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia.

“Oh. ” Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. “All right then. ”

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

“Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. ‘Atta boy, Dudley!” He ruffled Dudley’s hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

“Bad news, Vernon,” she said. “Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take him. ” She jerked her head in Harry’s direction.

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror, but Harry’s heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley’s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she’d ever owned.

“Now what?” said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he’d planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn’t easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

“We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon suggested.

“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy. ”

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn’t there — or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn’t understand them, like a slug.

“What about what’s-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?”

“On vacation in Majorca,” snapped Aunt Petunia.

“You could just leave me here,” Harry put in hopefully (he’d be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley’s computer).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she’d just swallowed a lemon.

“And come back and find the house in ruins?” she snarled.

“I won’t blow up the house,” said Harry, but they weren’t listening.

“I suppose we could take him to the zoo,” said Aunt Petunia slowly, “. . . and leave him in the car. . . ”

“That car’s new, he’s not sitting in it alone. . . ”

“Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry, Mummy won’t let him spoil your special day!” she cried, flinging her arms around him.

“I. . . don’t. . . want. . . him. . . t-t-to come!” Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. “He always sp-spoils everything!” He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother’s arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang — “Oh, good Lord, they’re here!” said Aunt Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn’t believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys’ car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.

“I’m warning you,” he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry’s, “I’m warning you now, boy — any funny business, anything at all — and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas. ”

“I’m not going to do anything,” said Harry, “honestly. . . ”

But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn’t make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar. ” Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley’s (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn’t punished.

On the other hand, he’d gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley’s gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry’s surprise as anyone else’s, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry’s headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he’d tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn’t school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg’s cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

“. . . roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,” he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

“I had a dream about a motorcycle,” said Harry, remembering suddenly. “It was flying. ”

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: “MOTORCYCLES DON’T FLY!”

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

“I know they don’t,” said Harry. “It was only a dream. ”

But he wished he hadn’t said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon — they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn’t bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn’t blond.

Harry had the best morning he’d had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn’t fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn’t have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.

Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a trash can — but at the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

“Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t budge.

“Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

“This is boring,” Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry’s.

It winked.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:

“I get that all the time. ”

“I know,” Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn’t sure the snake could hear him. “It must be really annoying. ”

The snake nodded vigorously.

“Where do you come from, anyway?” Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

“Was it nice there?”

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. “Oh, I see — so you’ve never been to Brazil?”

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, “Brazil, here I come. . . Thanksss, amigo. ”

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

“But the glass,” he kept saying, “where did the glass go?”

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, “Harry was talking to it, weren’t you, Harry?”

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, “Go — cupboard — stay — no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn’t know what time it was and he couldn’t be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

He’d lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he’d been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn’t remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn’t remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.

At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang.

#New chapters every day!!!!! No ones reading this :(

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jifsy · 6 years

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2017 Recap: Top 20 ezbuy Products Highly Recommended By Customers

Hello 2018 & A Happy New Year to all readers!

As we welcome the new year, here’s a look back at 20 top products as recommended by our lovely ezbuy customers which caused a lot of ‘Wooo’ and ‘Wah!’ from all of us.

And here we go!

Product: Handheld Juice Blender

Reviewed By Alice Yeo:

“Always wanted some fresh juices daily but very lazy to bring out my big blender from cardboard. Saw this and carted 1 to try for daily use. It is charged using a USB cable and it can last for multiple use (at least 8-10x) after full charge. Very light weight and handy to carry around. Easy to use after you put in fruits to make fresh juices or milk to do milk shake. Most importantly, very easy to clean in less than 1 min. I’ve been bringing this around office and home, it’s so convenient. You can leave it on the table or shake it while it’s blending. End up I carted 2 more extras for colleagues when they saw how easy and convenient to use.”

After reading Alice’s review and watching the video she uploaded, I’ve got the urge to cart it out as well and already thinking how I am going use it on the first day of 2018 to set my diet right! *New year’s resolution: Eat clean*

Product: Children’s Play Tents

Reviewed By Sylvia Tangugu:

“I was scrolling Facebook when I saw advertisement on this item… the price stated was $259!!! You can buy 20 sets from ezbuy!!! This is a great indoor item for kids! Even no kids, this can be a great indoor concept for single or couple.”

This is so pretty! Lay a comfy floor mat underneath the tent and filled it up with snugly pillows, it will be a perfect for a HTHT with your loved ones.

Additionally, it’s perfect as a photography prop as well! *idea*

Product: Pipe-style Storage Rack

Reviewed By Sylvia Tangugu:

“90% of the items bought for whole new house were from ezbuy Prime. Theme: retro simplicity to allow max space for kids to play. These are expensive and hard to find locally. The book rack is very stable and firm. Loved it to be on the Wall away from kids too! The below are also from Prime but due to the current system, I share the taobao links so that you can add in Prime later .”

Looking so artistic with this pipe-style rack. It seems to be able to hold more books than a normal book-shelf! Oh, seems like you can set the pipe-line how you would like it to be.

Product: L-shaped Sofa

Reviewed By Pearlyn Neo:

“My biggest purchase ever since i joined ezbuy. I was worried about the quality and how my sofa will look like but everything goes so well and beautiful”

The sofa looks so comfy to sit in. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and it seems to be able to fit quite a lot of people!

Product: Wallpaper sticker

Reviewed By Xin Yu:

“Dislike the colour/texture of your furniture? Check this out! Bought this marble stickers from ezbuy to change the design of my IKEA shelf and it turned out so great!

Water proof! Easy to use. Just measure the size of your furniture and cut the stickers accordingly and paste it over your furniture! Don’t worry about not having enough to fill your whole table because i manage to fill the whole IKEA shelf and i still have a lot left!”

This item is M-A-G-I-C! It turns a normal and dull shelf to something that looks so exquisite.

Product: Stainless Steel Basin

Reviewed By Chan Elle:

“Wanted to reno my bathrooms and had quotes from various contractors for vanity top. Find it too ex and decided to buy from ezbuy. Managed to get an 80cm in length stainless steel cabinet so it doesn’t rot easily if to get a carpenter to customize. Includes mirror, basin top and bottom cabinet. Need to indicate to seller to send out full black color.

Quality wise still considered acceptable for this price. Mirror and ledge is so so but still looks aesthetically pleasing.”

I’m sure those that are homeowners themselves would know how expensive it is for a full house renovation. When it comes to cupboards, sinks, toilet bowls, contractors would have a limited selection and sometimes it just doesn’t go with the theme you had in mind.

Now that ezbuy has a ezHome collection, you will probably find something suitable for your home and best still, the cost will be almost a fraction off compared to getting locally. Don’t say no share!

Product: L-Shaped Sofa

Reviewed By Yvonne Low:

“Despite many horror stories about ezbuy damaging your bulky items but I took the leap to buy a sofa! Since all my lights came without a crack, how much a damage can a sofa have right?

So tadah! Here’s my sofa. Firm and comfortable! I personally don’t like sofa that’s too soft. Colour totally match my flooring and theme! I love it!!

Product: Puffed-Up Costume

Reviewed By Carol Toh:

“Got my Halloween costume and it not only impressed my friends, they had a good laugh as well!”

This would be the best costume of the year! Frankly speaking, this looks so comfy to be in and it does not look too heavy to walk around as well. *Idea*

Product: Takoyaki Grill Pan

Reviewed By from Katrina Theobald:

“We made our own takoyaki last weekend It came with accessories like oil brush and the 2 sharp sticks. This product also come with an interchangeable grill pan!”

“Lai lai, 5 for $2~”

Your photo really made us drool. Little did we know that you can actually DIY takoyaki at home. I guess we won’t be seeing you in the queue at pasar malams!

Product: Kids Bunk Bed

Reviewed By Adeline Tii:

“I want to convert my study room into my boy room so was searching around for a good bunk bed that can fit in the room and yet doesn’t make the room look too small. Sourcing around Singapore and mostly quote me 30% more for customise even the size I want is smaller. So, in the end I source prime and found this bunk bed. Customized to the design and size that I want, cost around $300plus. Totally love it!!!”

I got the urge to climb up and lie on the bed watching those fairy lights. It looks so comfy and cosy. Oh, like what our customer mentioned, this is a customized bed. Which means you can customize something to suit your room size and theme. 1 and only design bed in the world, that’s pretty cool right?

Product: Lightings

Reviewed By Yvonne Low:

“Sharing one of my fav buy from ezbuy! My hanging dining light! Cost only a fraction of what SG shops are selling! Item came styrofoam nicely without a single scratch on it! I love it! Thanks, ezbuy!”

Product: Dog Costume

Reviewed By Kyra Lim:

“Damn hilarious, awesome outfit for Halloween or CNY!!!”

Your majesty! How cute is this!!! All dog owners would know that dog costumes aren’t cheap to buy locally. Furthermore, it’s also not practical for our little fur balls to put on due to our climate. Hence, aside for that photo opportunity and instaworthy shot most would be unwilling to part with the cash. But not anymore with ezbuy! With our wide range of designs and alternatives along with low prices and shipping fees.

Product: Children Play Car

Reviewed By Cherie Celesta Tan: “Bought 3 sets for my nieces and nephews. No English manual but easy to fix. $39+ each. Received my items less than a week”

Product: Animals Chairs, Drawer storage cupboard, Children Plastic Wardrobe & Toy Racks

Reviewed By: Nuramalina Hafidz

“Bought these items for my kids room to make it more colourful and organised”

Our customer’s kids’ room filled up with almost all ezbuy items. We love storage boxes as it stores away anything and everything in the fastest and neatest way!

Product: Camping Tent

Reviewed By Pauline Neo:

“This is super good and cheap! I saved more money buying here than going retail shops. This is so convenient as is automatic in terms of just open the tent, pull to open and press down to secure! Just Press down and fold to keep. Not like those old type, still have to assemble the metal rods ourselves making us so tiring. After buying from ezbuy, I went to retails and to my surprise, they sell more than $100 for only 3-4 person!… This is my 2nd purchased here for my parents for 6-8 persons. They loved it so much.”

Automatic tent! It definitely makes camping a lot easier and convenient. No more fixing of the poles and finding the right ends to the other.

Product: Multifunction Vanity Mirror

Reviewed By Jingru Lyu

“Sharing this must-buy multifunctional vanity mirror to all of the chiobu. It’s a bit pricey but worth the money! This mirror lamp cost me $39.96. Perfect wrapped when delivered to my hands, easy to install, I managed to do it by myself! It can be a bedside lamp, vanity mirror with LED light, perfect for makeup. It’s touch screen, lighting is adjustable. The bottom can be makeup or jewellery storage. Also available in white, mint green, baby pink color!”

Mirror light! All ladies must have for their daily usage. What’s more, it acts as a bedside lamp as well. This product was also one of our best picks from share & win.

Product: Vanity Table

Reviewed By Desmond Ker:

“I bought this European dressing table, solid wood with perfect finishing. The price that I paid definitely in Singapore we are not able to get it. Love it to the max. Thanks again”

This is so perfect to fit in a European themed home.

Product: Shark Bean Bag

Reviewed By Yvonne Low:

“My Son saw this bean bag at the mall and asked for this! I went up to the sales assistant and asked the price and it cost $149.90! I couldn’t bear to buy it for $150 and thus I quickly searched on ezbuy and guess what… it only cost less than $50 and delivered to my house! Everyone in the family are snatching to sit on this while watching TV!”

“Baby shark, doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo.

Baby shark, doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo.

Baby shark.”

I would like to have a sit on it too, getting bitten by the “shark”

Product: Multi way Wooden High Chair

Reviewed By Michelle Koh Pei Voon:

“I had bought this highchair from ezbuy after my Best Friend’s recommendation. (My friend bought 2 for her toddlers, then you can tell how good deal it is)

I and my little one love it so much when we received it. From the photo you can tell this is a really worth for money product, and it can be used since toddler. I regret that I know it when my little one is 3 years old already. I should buy it earlier, lol. Overall, the quality of the highchair is excellent while the price is affordable. From the last photo, you can see the wood finishing of the chair is fine.”

Retro yet looking super useful at the same time. Maybe a cushion on the seats will make it even comfortable for the kids. Just a suggestion for people whom are interested to get it.

This wraps up 20 of the best products of 2017 as recommended by you, our customers. We hope 2018 will be an even better shopping experience for everyone!

Got an amazing find or scored a great deal? Share with us at ezbuy Share & Win Facebook page. Happy Shopping!

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