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toomuchracket · 6 months

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all i want for christmas (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

back from the dead (a depressive episode) with a fluffy pre-dating fic that's honestly longer than it needs to be. whatever. it's christmas. this fic is also part of christmas75/twelve days of christmas, organised and curated by my lovely friend @abiiors. hope you all enjoy <3

wednesday, 3:34am

as soon as the “email sent” pop-up appears, you feebly close your laptop and lay your head on the desk, ready to finally give in to the sleep that's been edging ever closer to your eyelids for the past hour. but before you get the chance, your phone buzzes with an incoming notification, the vibrations rattling through the wood of the desk and into your skull.

swearing, your voice scratchy with underuse, you open one eye and tilt the screen towards you - the name it bears above the unread text makes you shoot back up to a sitting position, and knocks all traces of grumpiness and tiredness from your brain and body.

matty.

pointedly ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when you see he's opened his message with hi, darling, you continue reading: hope you're alright, and that the new book isn't kicking your arse too much. saw a group of kids in barnes & noble raving about your last one earlier. would've joined them if i wasn't in a hurry, to be honest. fucking brilliant. anyway, i know it's late, but i had to text you before i forgot. can you give me a call when you get this, darling? flying home early tomorrow so i'll be up from about… 8am your time? i've got a favour to ask you. nothing crazy, though, and nothing urgent. but yeah, just phone me when you can. thanks, darling. miss you, talk to you soon. bye! X

just as you're reeling from the three darlings and the kiss and the miss you, another text from your best friend comes in, accompanied by a photo: also look at who you were next to on this display. i got so excited. my three favourites!

you laugh out loud, a combination of shock at the fact your collection is between slouching towards bethlehem and consider the lobster and adoration at matty's beaming face next to it all. fuck, he's cute.

so cute. enough for you to forget that it’s 3 o'clock in the morning, and happily pick up your phone and dial his number - you've spent so much time poring over your message threads that you know it off by heart - as if it was mid-afternoon. you kick your legs back and forth as the call connects, smiling to yourself at the thought of hearing his voice for the first time in over a month.

luckily, you don't have long to wait; your heart flutters as he picks up on the second ring, voice thick in the way it only goes when he's smoking. “you know, you didn't have to call me right away, darling. thought you'd have been asleep. but hiya!”

“hi, matty,” you smile. “and come on, it's deadline week, of course my sleep schedule is fucked. questioning why i'm not asleep, christ, thought you knew me better than that.”

he takes your teasing in good faith. “i do, darling, i do know you,” matty's voice is soft, his tone as tender as you've ever heard it. it's driving you batshit insane. “but you know me. i just want to make sure you're not stressing yourself out about your work too much. rather have my best friend's wellbeing intact than another book, even though your writing is my favourite. speaking of, that display! i'm recreating it at home. genuinely. s'amazing.”

you can feel your cheeks burning. “i can't even comprehend that display right now, m'too tired. but i’ll text you my thoughts once they make sense. and i'm alright, matty, honest. please don't worry about me, lovely.”

“that'll never happen, and you know it.”

“god, you're obstinate. but thanks. i appreciate the care.”

“even when you're insulting me, you're so eloquent. you've got a gift,” matty laughs down the phone. “how's deadline week going, anyway?”

“it's done. just sent the final draft away for edits. s'why i'm still up, actually.”

“really? congrats, darling!” the genuine happiness in his tone makes your heart hurt. “god, i wish i was home now, so we could go out and celebrate.”

“me too. but we'll see each other this weekend for early christmas dinner, yeah?”

“that's what i wanted to talk to you about, actually. you know those roast potatoes you made last year?”

“you mean the ones you and alexa fought over the last spoonful of?” you laugh, remembering the two of them racing to the tiny kitchen in your flat to try and nab them.

“m'still fucking fuming that she got them. bitch,” matty grumbles, then giggles. “nah, she's like my sister, i love her. but yeah, those potatoes. can i have the recipe for them, please?”

you suck air in through your teeth. “well… no. that’s a family secret, lovely. m'sorry.”

“oh,” matty sounds so genuinely deflated that you could cry - you seldom see him upset, but the thought of his pretty face all sad makes you feel incredibly guilty. “that's alright, darling, i understand. my nana was the same with her soup recipes. you'd have to marry me if you wanted them.”

you hum out a laugh, brain suddenly scrambled at the thought of walking down the aisle towards him. god. get a grip!

scrunching your eyes closed and blinking them open again - a tried and tested way to stop yourself going off on tangents - an idea pops into your head, so obvious that you’re not sure why you haven't suggested it already. “well, in lieu of us getting hitched within the next week,” you smile, enjoying the way matty laughs softly at the other end of the line. “i could come over early to yours and make the potatoes for you, if you'd like?”

“i quite like the sound of the first option, to be honest…”

what the fuck?! you have to clap a hand over your mouth to stop a gasp. or a scream. perhaps even a moan.

“...but i'm more than happy with the second one. thank you, darling,” matty's smile is as audible as his relief. “you're a lifesaver and a legend. come over whenever on sunday, yeah? wake me up if you have to. actually, no, i'll pick you up. s'the least i could do to thank you. and it means we get to spend even more time together.”

“that sounds nice,” you all but sigh into your phone. “i'm excited to see everyone.”

mostly you, though.

“as am i, darling,” matty yawns. it's the cutest sound you've ever heard. for fuck's sake. “m'not bored talking to you, honest, just tired. this is actually the most fun i've had in weeks, this phone call.”

you want to assume he's lying out of politeness, but something in your brain tells you he's being sincere; it's not like you can say anything to dispute him, either, given it's also the most fun you've had in weeks. “matty, you’re in new york. at christmas time.”

“yeah, alone! s'boring. macaulay culkin made it seem a lot more fun when i was a kid,” matty snorts. “plus, i saw you the last time i was here. any trip you're not on is just automatically a bad one.”

christ, what is with him today? “flatterer,” you smirk, before grimacing and continuing to talk. “but i assume you've not been… totally alone, the whole time? i don't like the thought of that being the case.”

you hope to god he's too tired to pick up on your actual meaning; the sight of him with another girl isn’t unfamiliar to you, but that isn’t to say you don't mind it. quite the opposite, in fact.

thank christ, he misses it. “no, i’ve been good. slept by myself every night,” he laughs.

you giggle, relieved. “really? wow.”

“why are you surprised at that?”

“you're you, matty.”

“yeah, well, i'm going through a metamorphosis-”

“kafkaesque of you.”

“knew that one was coming as soon as i said it,” matty sighs. “but in all seriousness, in the past couple of months, i've just… fully realised what i want in life, you know? and it's not what i used to want, or get up to.”

interesting. “well, that's good. m'happy for you, lovely.”

“yeah, thanks. and what about you, miss? you, um, bringing anyone to christmas dinner?”

you snort. “obvs not.”

matty hums. “why'd you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like,” he pauses, trying to find the words. you can just picture the shape of his eyebrows as he does. “derisively. as if it's a silly question.”

“because it is a silly question, matty.”

“is it?”

“yeah,” you giggle. “i wouldn't even have time for a one night stand, let alone a relationship. not that there's anyone particularly interested, right now, anyway.”

“oh, there is,” comes the reply. “there really is.”

“if you say so.”

“believe me, darling, people want you. they're down bad. totally in love with you.”

“oh, you are so high right now, aren't you?”

“i mean, yeah. but i'm right!”

“uh huh,” you smirk. “i think you need your bed, matty.”

“pot, kettle.”

“alright, point taken,” you peel yourself off your chair, joints cracking slightly worryingly as you stand and pad across the flat to your room. “i'm going there now.”

matty sighs happily. “good. but send me a selfie as proof. accountability and all.”

it's an innocent enough ask, and not a totally unprecedented one - in the times where your self-neglect was at its worst, you would send matty and your other friends selfies so they could make sure you were alright - but the concept of sending matty a late-night pic from your bed does something quite odd to your brain and stomach.

still, you’ll oblige. but will he?

matty giggles when you ask him as much. “yeah, i'll send you one in return. i'm all about reciprocation, me.”

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “good to know.”

he laughs, that stupid hyena cackle of his that might be your favourite sound in the world. “christ, i've missed you.”

“it's reciprocated,” you smile, switching your phone between hands as you get into bed and hissing quietly at how cold the sheets are. “alright, i'm in my bed. and you should be too.”

“you're right, i should be,” matty says. his voice is lower than you've ever heard it, the rasp of his cigarettes prominent; despite yourself, it goes straight between your legs. “soon, though, darling. promise.”

“good,” your voice comes out breathier than expected, a setting you haven't used in some time. “i think we both need it.”

“yeah, i think we do, too,” matty yawns again, following it up with a sigh. “right. i'm going to hang up now, darling. i really don't want to, but i feel like if i don't then one of us is gonna fall asleep before we can exchange pics. and i can't be having that, honestly. miss looking at you.”

you giggle, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs back and forth. jesus christ, what is this man doing to you? “don't get too excited, i look like shit.”

well, you've looked worse lately - you at least showered and clipped your hair up and put on a clean outfit today. but still, far less glamorous than matty's used to.

or not - “i've literally held your hair back while you yoshed in a plant pot, darling, i think you're alright.”

“and on that note, let's wrap it up,” you laugh, rolling back to lie down. “what time should i be ready for on sunday?”

“oh, um… half twelve? that should be enough time to get everything sorted.”

“half twelve it is,” you yawn. “ok. bedtime. have a safe flight, lovely. talk soon?”

“‘course. don't forget that selfie, by the way. eagerly awaiting it.”

“et toi. lots of love, see you soon.”

“back at you, darling. goodnight.”

the call ends. you close your eyes and, for the briefest of moments, let yourself dwell on the fact your best friend - who, let's be honest, you have a bit of a crush on - shamelessly flirted with you to the point of bordering on phone sex, and let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance he might feel the same way you do.

but it's matty. sweet, cheeky, affectionate matty, who'd find a way to flirt with a brick wall if he was bored enough. because that's what he is, really - bored, high, alone on a phone call with a girl late at night. it's just a natural thing for him to do in those circumstances. you're not special, you were just… there.

that notion stings more than you expected. but you persevere, opening your camera and fixing your glasses. he's your best friend, after all, and he asked you to do this to make sure you were alright. nothing more than that.

still, as you close your eyes and smile, you hold the phone with both hands so your boobs push ever so slightly more together. just in case. then you caption the pic as requested, and hit send.

matty’s reply buzzes in a few seconds later, eliciting a shocked giggle from your lips: fucking love it when you wear your glasses. a follow-up appears in another few seconds: if that's you looking like shit… you're defo the sexiest bit of shit i've ever seen.

fuck him for getting you flustered like this. honestly, fuck him.

and, oh, when he sends a selfie in return, shirtless in low light, hair in its natural state, one hand behind his head… don't you want to do just that?

you bite your lip as you compose your response: my condolences to the single girls in nyc who are missing out on you looking like that tonight.

matty: i know, poor them lol. but their loss is one specific single girl in london’s gain, though, yeah?

you: fuck yeah

matty: you crack me up

matty: miss you sm

matty: anyway, sweet dreams. see you in them, i hope

matty: but see you irl on sunday lol xx

you: miss you too, lovely. goodnight xx

***

sunday, 12:56pm

a mass of black fur rams into your legs as soon as you step through matty's front door. you laugh, dropping your bags and crouching to pet an over-excited mayhem, while matty grumbles behind you. “at least let her get in the house, mayhem, christ!”

“don't listen to him,” you coo at the dog, nuzzling into you quite adorably. “i'm just as happy to see you as you are to see me, baby. got a present for you and everything.”

“you did not buy the dog a christmas present,” matty groans, gently pulling the coat from your shoulders.

“of course i did. got you one as well.”

“thought we agreed we weren't doing presents this year?”

“well, i'm a dirty liar,” you brush down your dress and turn to face matty, smiling. “that, and i saw something when i was in glasgow that i couldn't resist getting you.”

matty's eyes widen near-imperceptibly as he takes in the dark red fabric clinging to you like a second skin, raking up and down your body almost too quickly for you to clock.

almost. you bite back a smirk. got him!

much to your chagrin, though, he recovers quickly and turns the tables. “well, it's difficult to keep control when you see something… attractive,” he murmurs, gaze lifting to meet yours. “i like that dress, darling, you look gorgeous. and,” his tone and face brighten. “i actually got you a gift, too.”

the revelation is just as shocking as the way he looked at you is. “you did?”

“we're both dirty liars, it seems,” matty grins. he nods towards the kitchen. “make yourself comfortable in there, darling, and i'll go and get it. only be two minutes, promise, and then i'll help you find whatever you need, yeah?”

“you've not done a mad rearranging of your kitchen cupboards since the last time we all came over for dinner, have you?”

“nah.”

you wave nonchalantly. “then i'm good, i know where everything i need is.”

matty smiles down at you - there's an expression in his eyes that you can't quite name - and gently nudges you down the hall. his hand is light against your back, but it sends shockwaves through your nervous system regardless. “alright. give me a shout if you need anything, though, please.”

“i will, lovely,” you smile back just as sweetly. “want me to put some christmas music on? get into the festive spirit and all?”

“anything but band aid.”

you laugh, and matty joins in. “i was thinking more sinatra, anyway.”

“perfect.”

and that's exactly how he'd describe the scene in the kitchen he walks into thirty minutes later. the room is warm, made cosy by the oven that's been slow-cooking turkey for a little while now, soundtracked by frank crooning out have yourself a merry little christmas. mayhem snoozes in his bed by the massive window, which shows snow dusting over the garden like icing sugar on a cake, and then there's you. still keeping an eye on the potatoes bubbling on the hob, you sway gently to the music as you pour dried spices and seasonings into a bowl, your face as content as matty feels.

it breaks into a big smile when you see him in the doorway, white dress shirt hugging his chest quite deliciously. “oh! you got changed. i like it.”

“had to keep up with you, didn't i?” matty smiles, wandering into the room and laying a gift bag on the counter. he peers into the pan of potatoes. “thank you for doing this, by the way, darling. means a lot.”

he opens his arms, and you slot into them before they wrap around you tightly, resting your chin on matty's shoulder and smiling. “no one else i'd do it for.”

matty hums happily. “god, i've missed you. you're always a total peach to me. makes me feel good.”

“a peach? you've spent too much time stateside, matty,” you giggle, pulling away just enough to look at him. “thank god you're home for a bit. but thank you, lovely, i'll take the compliment.”

“for once, you'll take one,” matty teases. his face turns slightly more solemn. “yeah, m'glad to be home. it's a shame you won't be at any of the UK shows, though. i always like them more when you're there.”

“well, when hollywood calls, you have to answer,” you shrug, then smirk. “you just want me at the shows so i'll praise your narrative structuring again, don't you?”

matty's eyes close in bliss. “don’t tease, you literally barrelling towards me backstage screaming about midpoints and how proud of me you were is genuinely the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“oh, shush,” you roll your eyes, suddenly shy.

“i'm serious! it'd be like joan telling you she thought one of your sentences had perfect structure. a writing compliment from you is a gift, darling.”

“well… thank you. and speaking of gifts,” you - with great reluctance - pull away from matty, bending down to grab a wrapped box from your bag. “here. joyeux noël.”

your best friend takes the present from you, murmuring a “thank you” and smiling at the tag addressed to him. he holds it to his ear and shakes the box, eyebrows raising at the slight rattle.

sighing, you roll your eyes. “just open it, matty.”

his face lights up. “alright.”

after carefully peeling the tag from the box and placing it in his pocket, matty tears through the paper and lifts the lid off. he squints at the sides of the smaller plastic boxes inside, before realisation hits and his jaw drops. “this is…”

“cassette recordings of ten blue nile gigs throughout the eighties and nineties, in their entirety,” you finish, smiling. “thought you'd like them.”

“like them? darling, this is- i don't even know what to say, other than thank you,” matty looks at you, awed, and pulls you into another tight hug. “how the fuck did you manage to get them?”

“the guy in one of the record shops i went into in glasgow was selling them. they're his recordings,” you say, half into matty’s neck. “and he'd digitised them, so he didn't need the tapes anymore, and he wanted them to go to someone who'd genuinely use them. remembered you saying you'd bought a tape deck, and i know how much you love that band, so… i kinda had to buy them.”

matty turns his head and presses a kiss onto your temple; while you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming in delight, he speaks again. “you really are one of the best people i know. christ, i'm so overwhelmed by how perfect that present is. i need a drink,” he pulls away and heads to the fridge. “d’you fancy some champagne, darling, before i give you your gift? you might need it, actually.”

“that's not ominous at all,” you quip, then nod. “pour me a glass while i sort the potatoes and get them in the oven, please.”

matty nods, pulling out a bottle of perrier and grabbing glasses to take over to the table, while you drain and pat-dry the potatoes. he hums along to the background music while he fiddles around with the foil covering the champagne cork; you smile, eyes flicking up periodically to look at his cutely confused face, then back down to the food you're currently buttering and seasoning. it's incredibly domestic, a cosy little christmas dinner tableau, so much so that it hurts your heart to think that life isn't always like this for you and matty. and mayhem, obvs, curled up so adorably in his bed that you have to resist awwwwing every time you look at him.

still, it's hard to be melancholy when matty's irritation at the bottle foil is so amusing. you giggle at his grumbling, turning around to look at him scowl once the potatoes are safely in the oven. “need a hand?”

“no thanks, darling, i'm- ok, yeah, please,” matty sighs, leaning back in his chair and stretching. you pretend not to notice the way his shirt rides up and exposes his hip tattoo. “can't find the tab on the foil.”

“hmm, let me see,” you wander to the table and sit beside matty, moving your chair closer to him. well, to the bottle. “ah - that's because there isn't one.”

“well that's fucking stupid. how are you meant to open it?”

you smile, swiping your index nail across the foil; it slices clean through, and you're able to peel the covering off the cork. “like that. these aren't just for aesthetic purposes, you know.”

“that was actually quite hot. let me see them?” matty gently takes your hand in both of his own, admiring the abstract line pattern on your fingernails, tenderly rubbing his thumbs over the gel. “yeah, definitely hot. let me open the champagne from here though, darling, yeah? can't risk these pretty nails being damaged.”

you bite the inside of your cheek again; this time, to stop from giggling flirtily. “have at it, lovely.”

“i like it when you call me that,” matty smiles, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and the cork in the other, and slowly twisting. “makes me feel good.”

“well, you are lovely,” you smile back. “and opening that champagne quite effectively, i must say.”

“learnt from the best,” matty winks. “you're right, though, it's a lot less messy. although i don't mind that, sometimes. s'fun.”

“yeah, me too,” you smirk, glad to be sitting down and not having to worry about your legs caving in at matty and his words. “kinda fun getting it all over your hand, isn't it?”

matty's eyes widen again, and the cork breaks free with a loud pop; before either of you can cringe at or make light of it, though, mayhem jolts awake with a yelp at the sound, and quickly runs over to sit at your feet.

you coo at him, reaching down to scratch his sweet head and reassure him (and berate his dad). “aww, mayhem. you scared the baby, matty! look at him, he's terrified! s'ok, sweetheart, i'll keep you safe. come on, you can have your christmas present to cheer you up.”

matty rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the smile from his face as he watches his dog eagerly follow you to your bag. “you know, mayhem, you're such a sap, honestly.”

“oi, don't talk about my friend like that,” you frown, face lighting up as you find what you're looking for in your bag. “aha! here you go, mayhem. merry christmas.”

the dog takes the guitar-shaped dog toy with relish, plodding back over to his bed and playing with it contentedly. matty leans to the side to look at mayhem's gift, bursting into laughter when he sees it. “fucking brilliant. that'll be his new favourite, by the way. but you're his favourite, so it checks out, i s'pose.”

“really?”

“oh, he loves you. he never gets so excited to see anyone else,” matty nods, pouring champagne and sliding a glass to you. “bet he'd enjoy seeing more of you. as would i, actually - i really like spending time with you, darling.”

you nod, touched. “so do i,” you raise a glass. “to seeing more of each other next year.”

matty clinks his glass off yours, repeating your words with a soft smile. you take a sip of your respective drinks, humming in satisfaction as the champagne hits your lips. you nod again as you swallow. “christ, that's good.”

“agreed. and now that we've had a drink,” matty puts his glass down, then leans back in his chair and reaches to grab your gift from the counter. he presents it to you with a grin. “merry christmas, darling. save the box til last, yeah?”

“ok. thank you,” you smile sheepishly, opening the bag and pulling out its contents: a notebook, with a pen tucked into the front cover, a book, and a thin, a4-size box. laying them on the table, you inspect each facet of the present in turn, starting with the notebook. “a parker pen? matty, this is beautiful.”

“that one's also kinda a congratulations gift for getting your manuscript in. there's a little message on the inside, too,” comes his reply.

you flick your gaze up to find him blushing, and it makes you smile even wider. carefully, you lift open the black cover, and find matty's familiar scrawl on the inside: to my favourite writer… this is for the next one. lots of love, matty ♡. a little giggle leaves your lips, and you reach for your friend's hand to squeeze it. “you really are the loveliest, you know.”

“shhh, it's nothing,” matty softly rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “the next bits are the good ones, really. m'excited to see you react to them.”

“better not keep you waiting, then,” you smile, reaching for the book; you let out a little cry of excitement when you read the title. “on beauty! i haven't read this since i was at uni, my god. thanks, matty, i can't believe you remembered me saying that! oh, this is amazing.”

“open it.”

your head shoots up. “what? why?”

matty smiles. “just do it, please.”

“alright,” you do as requested. when you see what’s on the title page, your jaw drops. “matthew…”

“oh, shit, the full name. am i in trouble?” matty quips, smirking as he takes another sip of champagne.

“no, no, just… you got zadie fucking smith to sign a book for me? with a personal message?” you all but sob, lip quivering, completely overcome. “she's telling me she loves my work? what the fuck?”

“well, she's got good taste.”

“matty,” you wail. “this is the best gift i've ever been given.”

matty giggles. “no it isn't.”

“i'm telling you, it really is.”

“nah,” matty gently tugs the book from your hands and replaces it with the box. “this might be, though. but you need to stop crying before you open it, though, darling. can i just…?”

tenderly, so tenderly, matty takes your face in his hands and uses his thumbs to carefully wipe the tears pooling on your lower lashline. at his touch alone, your breathing starts to regulate; the same can't be said for your heart or brain, which both go haywire at the intimacy of his actions, something not helped by him whispering reassuringly to you. “there you are, darling. you're alright.”

it's not a question, but you nod anyway. “thank you.”

“anytime,” matty lets go of your face and sits back; you miss him as soon as he lets go. “right. now you can open it.”

with a smile, you lift the lid from the box - it falters, though, as soon as you take in the words on the paper in front of you. “these are outlines.”

“yeah, they are. look closer, darling.”

you squint at the paper, a choked noise escaping your lips. “feel free… fuck off. zadie gave you her essay notes?!”

“she did. and told me to give them to you.”

“how?”

“well,” matty grins, shuffling in his seat. “i went to see her and nick while i was in new york, and i asked her to sign the book while i was there. when she found out it was for you… she insisted you have those. printed more off for me and everything. she thinks you're the shit, darling.”

“you're sure she didn't say i was shit?” you hiccup, sliding the box onto the table before your tears hit the paper and picking up your glass for a long drink.

“positive. she only had lovely things to say about you,” matty takes your glass and refills it, beaming at you. “so, yeah. bit of a weird present, i know, but i knew you'd appreciate it.”

you laugh through your tears, wiping your eyes and shuffling your chair next to matty's to hug him. “i really do. and i appreciate you even more. thank you, lovely, you're too good to me.”

“nah, you deserve the best, darling,” matty’s hand comes up to rest on the back of your hair, stroking it gently.

you wallow in the tender moment for a second, before pulling back to smile at him. “m'sorry for crying, christ.”

he shakes his head. “don't worry about it, s'cute. and you still look fit when you cry, so…”

“shut up,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

“really, you look perfect,” matty smiles, eyes soft. “m'glad you came over early today. not just because it means we get the good potatoes, but because we get to do this, have a bit of peace before everyone gets here. s'nice. really nice.”

you nod. “it is. thanks for having me. and for the gift.”

he kisses your hand. “anytime. thank you for my gift. and just for being you, i s'pose.”

“it's like you want me to keep crying.”

“well, like i said, you look fit,” matty grins. “but nah, i'll stop. let's have a nice time and get rid of this champagne before everyone else gets here, yeah?”

“sounds like a plan.”

so that's what you do - sit at matty's kitchen table, drinking champagne and watching mayhem playing with his new toy, talking and laughing with your best friend. outside, the snow falls faster and faster, blanketing the garden in pristine white, but it's falling nowhere near as quickly as you are for matty. when the front door goes, you’re actually welcome for the excuse to leave the table, the kitchen, the intense care in those beautiful eyes that threatens to shatter your sanity and perspective.

it's your newly engaged friends, laden with more champagne and christmas crackers. once you've exchanged pleasantries, your friend sends her fiancé into the kitchen with the bags so she can interrogate you. “now why are you here so early? you're a little bit unsteady on your feet… oh my god, did you and matty fuck?”

“no! christ! and keep your fucking voice down,” you hiss, looking back down the hall to make sure the coast is clear. “i came over early to help with dinner. and we opened champagne. that's it.”

her eyes narrow. “but you want to fuck him, don't you?”

you open your mouth to answer, but pause for a split-second too long; she cuts back in again. “oh, you do! well, you should.”

“i don't just want to fuck him, babe,” you sigh, leaning against the cold concrete wall. your brain is screaming at you to shut up, but you can't. “i… like him. in a more-than-platonic way. like in a deep way.”

“so… tell him that.”

you blanch. “today?”

“yes! it's christmas. we've all seen love actually - it's the perfect time!” she quietly claps, beaming. “and you won't see him again until my birthday dinner, so if the revelation goes tits up… you've got two months to get over it.”

“really filling me with confidence here.”

“sorry,” she kisses your cheek. “i just like the thought of the two of you being happy, that's all.”

“i know, it's just-”

“darling?” matty wanders down the hall to you, pulling your friend into a welcoming hug, then turning to face you. “sorry to interrupt, but your timer is going off.”

“oh, thanks, lovely,” you smile at him. “be in in a minute, yeah?”

“alright. looking forward to it,” with a wink, he's gone again.

your friend smiles at him, then turns to you. “he is looking forward to you returning to the same room as him. how interesting!”

“yeah, because it means we all get the roast potatoes i made. that's it.”

“oh, you made those again? amazing,” she nods appreciatively, then looks at you and tilts her head. “he could still just be looking forward to being in close proximity to you again, though. wonder if there's any mistletoe around.”

“shut up, please, i am literally begging.”

she laughs, tucking you under her arm and walking to the kitchen. “alright, i'll leave it be tonight. but i'm just saying - i think you have to seriously consider that matty might want you under his christmas tree this month just as much as you want him under yours.”

“and i think you have to seriously consider that you might be delusional.”

“well, we'll soon find out, i'm sure.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #christmas75 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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gryffinclaw-imagines · 1 year

Text

Remus Lupin x Reader - A snowy escape

Character: Remus Lupin

Reader: Fem!Reader

Word count: 1284

Requested: No, but feel free to request a fic:))

Summary: That bloody potions essay has you stumped! So much so, that Remus has offered to spend his Saturday helping you with it instead of going to Hogsmeade. Which, in itself, isn’t all that bad...

Warnings: Nothing, just pure fluff

A/n: Can you tell I love everything snow and wintery by this???

PLEASE DON’T COPY OR STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED;)

"I guess I just can’t see why it makes a difference...” You confessed, your nose buried deep within the pages of your potions book. “Well, lacewing flies make the potion a lot more powerful.” Remus replied calmly, his patience astounding you. You would’ve given up on yourself if you were in his position.

“Ugh... Christmas break can’t come soon enough!” You exclaimed, closing the book. A silence fell upon you for a moment, and you noticed just how empty the library was. Everyone was at Hogsmeade, enjoying themselves, drinking hot chocolate, maybe even enjoying a hot meal at The Three Broomsticks. “Thank you for helping me, Rem.” You looked him in the eyes, trying to convey just how grateful you were. “No problem, Y/n. I’ll always help you if you need it.” The boy gave you a sincere look, making you blush (just a tiny bit), before grabbing a book from the table.

“Here,” he handed it to you, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. “Chapter 17.” You opened the book, but the words seemed unreadable, your mind somewhere else. You felt childish for getting so caught up on a single touch, but you couldn’t help it. Since fourth year, this boy had been making your stomach flutter with excitement. The simplest things could set it off, and you were quite tired of it by now, if you had to be honest. You were not tired of Remus, you could never be. However, you were tired of longing, tired of staring at him for too long, and tired of your expectations. You’d liked him since fourth year, and now, two years later, you figured it was too late. If he liked you too, surely something would’ve happened by now.

“Lacewing flies not only give the potion its significant shimmer, but they also increase the potion’s effect by 72%, as opposed to the cheaper replacement; rosewing beetles.” You read, finally able to concentrate. “That’s a good point to add,” Remus nodded, pushing your essay towards you. It was almost done, but you didn’t feel confident about it. “I’ll write it down, then.” You reached for the ink, sighing.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked, his brows arching. “I just feel bad for making you stay here with me...” You confessed, writing a phrase on your parchment. “Hey, you didn’t make me do anything. I chose to help you myself.” He took your hand, making you look at him.

“If you ask me,” he continued. “It’s 100% worth-” “LOOK!” You exclaimed loudly, pointing at the window behind him, earning you a somewhat aggressive shush from Madam Pince. “It’s snowing!” You whispered, smiling brightly at the boy in front of you. “We need to go outside! Get your coat!”

“But what about your essay?” He asked while you were already putting everything away. “It’s fine! It’s almost done anyways. Get your coat, Rem, we’ll meet in the courtyard!” And off you were, parchment in hand, running off to your common room to get your coat. You were too excited to notice his wholesome smile and corresponding blush as he watched you run off.

***

The sharp cold hit you as soon as you stepped outside, making your cheeks glow as you buried your chin further into your scarf. The courtyard was dead silent, and it seemed abandoned, making it look magical in a non-wizard way. You strolled over to the fountain and let your fingers run over the light coat of frost on the ice cold stone, before sitting down on its ledge. The calm seemed to hit you in a way nothing else could, potion’s essay forgotten. You’d definitely made the right choice to abandon your homework and enjoy the snow. It was one of your favourite things. Winter with snow. Winter without snow was just plain gray. Boring. Winter with snow, however, awakened a feeling in you like no other. It felt special as it always seemed to bring an opportunity for making memories. The nostalgic feeling reminded you of your childhood, playing in the snow with your family, building snowmen, drinking hot cocoa after a long day outside, the feeling of warmth coming back to your fingers once you held a warm mug in your hands a vivid memory. You toyed with the end of your scarf, deep in thought. Not for long however, as something cold and soft hit your shoulder, making you shriek in surprise before turning around.

“Remus, I’ll get you back for that!” You yelled as you saw who’d thrown the snowball. “Oi, everything’s fair in snow and war!” He replied, already taking cover behind a bush. You laughed before gathering a great amount of snow in your hands and throwing it at him, missing by a few inches. “Was that the best you’ve got?” He teased before throwing another snowball, also missing. “Well, you’re not that good yourself!” You answered as you turned to watch where the ball would land. “Rule number one,” Remus began, making you turn back around. “Always have a tactic.” He stated smugly while throwing another snowball, hitting you smack on the left shoulder.

“Ok, that’s it!” You let out before charging at the bush where Remus had taken cover, making him flee from his hiding place. He was fast. A little faster than you, always a couple steps ahead, leading the two of you out of the courtyard and a little of the way towards the great lake. You had to think of a plan. This wouldn’t go well for you if your plan depended on catching up to him somehow. So you came up with another idea as you spotted a giant soft pile of snow, practically calling your name. You ran over to it, calling out for Remus.

“Ouch, Rem! I think I sprained my ankle!” The words made him stop running to come help you out, exactly as you’d hoped. “Which one? Let me see… Can you walk?” He sounded genuinely worried, and for a second you felt bad for tricking him, but your mischievous side got the better of you. “Yea, it’s right here…” You pretended to bend down a bit before grabbing his coat and pulling him down with you, right into the pile of snow.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, followed up by laughter. “You cheat!” He turned to look at you, and you couldn’t help but taking a split-second to take him in. Pink cheeks and nose, golden curls peeking out from underneath his knit beanie, a couple of snowflakes stuck in his hair. “Everything’s fair in snow and war.” You replied, shrugging the best to your abilities while lying down. He let out a warm chuckle before sitting up and looking towards the lake, gesturing for you to do the same.

The view was simply stunning. A snowy landscape like you’d never seen it before… or rather, like you’d never noticed it before. The sun was beginning to set, shining down onto the untouched snow through a hole in the clouds. It glittered and glimmered, once again reminding you of that wintery magic you’d felt a whisp of earlier. It was as if nature had conjured up the glittering snow, just for the sake of it. Just for you. It was mesmerising.

“My mum used to tell me that the glittery snow was fairy dust.” Remus suddenly confessed in a soft whisper as if not to disturb the beauty. “It sort of is, don’t you think?” You replied, happy that he saw the magic too. “Yea.” He simply agreed, enjoying the view just as you, readjusting his position to be closer to you.

Neither one of you mentioned the way his pinky lay on top of yours, curling around it softly.

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bonesandthebees · 2 months

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i did not mean to do it, but i was passing time in the library, just waiting for my sign language lesson (theyre going great btw, im really enjoying it) not planning to borrow anything, ive got plenty of unread books at home, but as i was leaving i passed the just returned section and there, i noticed it, a huge orange book (would be hard to miss honestly) and before i knew it i was checking out with it

im going on a school trip to england tomorrow (by bus so, a few days on the ride, well be stopping in amsterdam for a day so id love any tips btw, i plan to check your old trip asks) and i figured im gonna need something to read anyway and its so long ill definitely only only need this one book with me and it was even the english version which is the one i wanted to read so it was perfect

and thats how i ended up with a bag much heavier and the priority of the orange tree on my shelf rn

all i saw so far were maps (YES! PLURAL! THATS SO FUCKING COOL) and some glossaries or something and im really excited to get into it

oh I'm so glad you're enjoying your sign language classes!! it's such a fun language to learn right??

oh my god a school trip to england and you're stopping in amsterdam on the way?? god that sounds so fun. and you have priory now aaaa that's gonna be such a good book to read while you travel (although it's so heavy it's incredibly inconvenient to travel with)

ok ok amsterdam tips hm. well first off watch out for bikes. I don't know how common bike riding is in your country so maybe you already know this, but in america you never really have to worry about looking out for bicyclists when you're crossing the street you just focus on cars. in amsterdam you WILL get hit by a bicyclist if you're not careful so make sure to watch out. this was a lesson I had to learn quickly as an american.

I definitely recommend finding a cute cafe or something in amsterdam. not a coffee shop since that term means something very different in amsterdam (although if you want to go to a coffee shop live your best life) but theres some very good actual coffee and snacks you can find in cafes. I still daydream about this cheese and tomato croissant sandwich I had in an amsterdam cafe it was so good

anyway I hope you enjoy priory!! honestly I'm kind of laughing at how many of you I've convinced to read it. I'm reading the prequel right now and literally losing my mind at how good it is. the worldbuilding for this series is just so immersive and vibrant and I really hope you fall in love with it like I did. and yes the maps are SO fucking cool. one of my favorite details is how you have maps at both the beginning of priory and the beginning of a day of fallen night (the prequel) but since adofn takes place several hundred years before priory the maps look similar but different and you find out what changed the maps over the course of the story and it's just so interesting

let me know what you think!! and I hope you have an amazing trip <33

#ask #jiksvokrat

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thetonethetollandthethunder · 10 months

Text

Arc of A Scythe analysis, chapter 6-10

—

Chapter 6!

-Ooo! This is the chapter we see the new order scythes!!!

-99.9 percent on-time service…stuff like this makes me wish i was in scythe—

-I find it very funny that the middle seat is just as bad as disease and government, Neal always makes this small funny bits intentionally or not

-GODDARD ID RECOGNIZE THAT ROBE ANYWHERE

-Elegy of scythes <3

-This is fucking terrifying though, imagine you’re finally on your way home, you can’t wait to see your family, they’re all waiting for you, all you want is a nice flight home, and then it’s announced you’re gonna die. Thats fucking scary man

-This scene really shows how fucked up Goddard and is Elegy are, how cruel they can be

-Yes business man, gleaning is necessary, but not in this way, this way is just despicable

-Chomsky is too excited for this PUT THE FLAMETHROWER AWAY SIR

-Oh god Goddard is using the word Alpha, do you think he considers himself an alpha male? I do NOT wanna think about that

-“Yet even in dreams I often find myself gleaning…” god almost all scythes must be so fucking traumatized man-

-Jesus what a good chapter, a great way to start the new part!

—

Chapter 7!!

-Faraday is lowkey a good professor, no wonder you high school au freaks like using him for that /hj

-I for one, CAN imagine Faraday with a mace, he’d look fucking awesome

-Banned weapons are encouraged, that is SCARY!!!

-No wonder a lot of scythes (esp young ones in the new order are bloodthirsty, it’s this cycle of encouragement and being exempt from the rules of society, sure the older scythes preach about gleaning with honor but when you’re young, especially around citra and rowan’s age, you’d be hard-pressed to listen and be much more interested in the bloodsports of Goddard. That’s how he gets you!!!

-Also as someone who has started journaling my scythe journal would be UNREADABLE I have AWFUL handwriting

-Killing 5 people a week, and 260 a year is INSANE!! Again it’s no wonder a lot of scythes are so desensitized to this shit, and even revel in it, you kind of have to, just for your own sanity

-“Good scythes don’t get days off.” *COUGH COUGH* GODDARD *COUGH COUGH*

-“The idea that not all scythes were good was something neither Rowan or Citra had ever considered. It was widely accepted that scythes adhered to the highest moral and ethical standards. Even the ones who sought celebrity were seen to deserve it.” OHH YOU FUCKERS HAVE NO IDEA I LOVE WHEN I HAVE FORESIGHT THE CHARACTERS IN THEIR CURRENT PRESENT TIME DONT!!!!

-“If you do not cry yourself to sleep on a regular basis, you are not compassionate enough to be a scythe.” OUGH THAT LINEEEEE!!!!

-“She doubted rowan cried himself to sleep.” It all happens on the inside, citra!

-“I prefer to see each person I glean as an individual deserving of an end that is unique.” I love how the first book shows how compassionate and truly worthy of the title Scythe Faraday is. It’s that compassionate that makes him stay as one even after the title is gone. Because that’s what he truly is.

-“I find fire a horrific way to glean and would never use it.” ROWAN WOULD DISAGREE OHOHOHOOOOO—

-Its here where I think Rowan gets a lot of his moral code, or at least starts to think about it, to him Faraday is a model scythe, the scythe anyone should strive to be, and when he eventually sees scythes the complete opposite of him, his way of thinking as Scythe Lucifer becomes more clear.

-“I am an accomplice to the world’s oldest crime, and it will only get worse.” AAAA THAT LINE MAN

-“All they do is play games and watch cat holograms.” Oh Neal you really don’t know shit about how people actually use technology—

-I think me and Rowan would have similar handwriting (bad)

-“Rowan found it increasingly hard to parse his feelings about her.” ROWAN FELL FIRST AND HE FELL HARD MAN!!!!!!!!!

-Ben mention :(((((

-This entry of Curie’s journal really fucking hits you man!!! Especially the “I don’t know” at the end like UGH!!!!

-AMAZING CHAPTER AS ALWAYS!!! It’s really laying the groundwork for future character development!

—

Chapter 8!!!

-We get some foreshadowing to Citra’s gleaning method! The theater part if you can recall!

-Also the “No, I lost. Twice.” Is SO funny

-“It was the only time in all my years as a scythe that I had been thanked for what I do.” And you’ll be thanked SO much more soon Faraday!

-Them becoming more violent and thinking about gleaning is SO interesting esp since its so early, just shows how much it can affect you.

-Foreshadowing to where Rowan chooses which Scythe he chooses to glean when he becomes Scythe Lucifer

-GOD you can FEEL his guilt of having to choose between these 4 people!! How horrible and awful he feels to take their lives away as he learns more UGH

-AND he’s thinking about Bias’s unlike SOMEONE *cough cough* SCYTHE GODDARD *cough cough*

-“Does it ever get easier?” Rowan asked. “I certainly hope not,” the scythe said.

-Bradford Ziller is such a shit name lmao

-Rowan not wanting to admit he’s the one who chose him is soooo!!

-“They had bitten her. Good for them.” HAH that’s such a fun line

-Oop! There’s an error on my copy of the book! There’s a quotation mark at the end of “How was any of this fair?” When there shouldn’t be because it’s not dialogue! Interesting right?

-Even if he has a stupid name, you can really feel the terror and panic on Bradford, really good stuff

-The fact he wants to be aware and awake when he dies is sooo interesting man

-Rowan and Citra’s love is continuing to blossom!!

-“I fear for all of us if scythes begin to love what they do.” *STARES AT GODDARD*

-Amazing chapter as always!! Two more to go!!

—

Chapter 9!!

-Esme!! I always remember her being an underutilized character, let’s see if I was right though!

-Idk why but I hate mentions of food, esp greasy foods in books, makes me ick a lot idk I’m weird

-“Well, she could learn self-control tomorrow. Today she wanted pizza.” ICONIC LINE!! Such a mood!

-Luigi mario :)

-Elegy of scythes are back!!!

-Oh Esme there’s gonna be *so* many mass gleanings later on you have NO idea

-VOLTA

-Esme you’re life is gonna be FUCKED GIRL YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!

-A utopia where everything is perfect would be boring, most ppls lives in Scythe are boring, that’s what I think makes Scythe interesting compared to other dystopian books because its a utopia that turns into a dystopian whilst giving ideas of how that utopia itself was already a dystopia even if it wasn’t a tradition one

-Shorter chapter! Still good tho, not as interesting as others however

—

CHAPTER 10!!!!!

-TYGER!!

-Rowan you’re scaring people—

-Rowan’s disobedience is what makes him soooo interesting to me mam!!

-Lmao Rowan is worried about Tyger stealing Citra, already getting jealous!

-Apparently ppl ship Citra and Tyger which…I don’t see??? At all????

-We get some more Citra-Rowan interactions!! Very nice!!! Makes my Citran heart happy <3

-Emo-Nanites <3

-“We are not the same beings we once were. So then, if we are no longer human, what are we?” UGH ANOTHER GOOD LINE!!

-Another short chapter though not as short as the last one! Liked it more than the last though!

—

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, but here’s the next 5 chapters, those last two chapters didn’t have much but everything else was great as always!! Next time we’ll be doing chapters 11-15! Hope you’ll join me for it!!!

#the tone speaks #arc of a scythe #rowan damisch #citra terranova #scythe faraday #scythe goddard #tyger salazar #i dont wanna tag everyone else soooooo #long post

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nutzgunray-lvt · 10 months

Text

An Attempt To Fly Under The Radar - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is here! Struggled a bit with writers block, but I found that I really love writing from All Might's POV. I also couldn't help but throw a Psych reference in there, as well as a small nod to All Might's canonical 5/5 intelligence rating. Let my man be smart!

Izuku loved his lunches with All Might.

It wasn't just because of the fact that the Symbol of Peace spent one day a week sharing a homemade bento box with him (him! He made Izuku homemade lunches!). In general, it was just nice to spend some time with him outside of training. Sometimes, they talked about One For All, but other times, they talked about anything and everything - from the book series 'Internity' that he'd gotten the older man into, to how his classes were going.

"Present Mic was telling me about how well you did on your last English exam!" The older man said as he held his cup of tea. "You didn't hear this from me, but you were among the only two of your classmates to get both of his extra credit questions right! Great job, Young Midoriya!"

The praise felt nice (it always would, especially from All Might), and he felt his cheeks redden as he shrugged and took a sip of his own tea. "I've been reading some really interesting books, and one of them actually had the second bonus question in it!"

"It better not have been 'Internity'," All Might teased, grinning at his protégé. "You know I'm one book behind, and if I find out that you went back on our agreement and read ahead -"

"No, not at all!" the teen frantically promised, waving his hands in front of him, unaware that he was reacting precisely how his mentor had wanted him to. "I've been reading other books, I swear! I've been reading the third volume of a comic book series called 'Captain Hero' and another book called 'A Treatise of Human Nature'! The second bonus question was from page forty three of 'A Treatise of Human Nature,' and the quote we had to pick the correct translation from was: 'Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.' If you really think about it, that can be applied to the fundamentals of heroics, because a hero shouldn't only save people because that's what they're factually obligated to do, but rather because it's the right thing to do. It falls in line the four virtues as well, as justice is the main virtue a hero should have -"

"Man, no one is better at spouting word vomit than you, kid!" All Might cut in with a laugh. "You sure One For All didn't enhance your speaking ability along with your strength?"

Friendly ribbing aside, as Izuku sheepishly stopped his ramblings and looked up at his mentor, he noticed an unreadable expression on his face. It was the same one he had after he rescued both him and Bakugou from the Sludge Villain last April, and the same one as when he offered to train Izuku to receive One For All that same day.

It said that he saw something in him, something no one else had bothered to see up until now. Something he wanted to help nurture and develop.

"Sorry. I didn't notice I was mumbling again," he mumbled, staring at his lap. "Everyone's gotten onto me about it -"

All Might shook his head and waved him off. "Don't apologize, my prince of nonsense!" He still had that look on his face, and Izuku wasn't sure how he felt about it. "It sounds like it was a really interesting read for you, and it's great to see you so passionate about your studies! Why don't you let me borrow it sometime, and we can bounce some ideas off of each other?"

Izuku immediately nodded, an excited smile growing on his face as the bell rang, making it falter just a little. Realization that he'd have to get back to class and assume his mission of staying under the radar hit him hard, and he slowly set his tea cup on the table and got up, brushing off his pants. Was he stalling? Yes. Would it make him late? Probably. Did he care at the moment? No. He loved these moments with his mentor, and it was up to him to make sure to never take them for granted.

"Sure! It's in my backpack, so I'll lend it to you after training today."

All Might beamed at him, shooting him a thumbs up as he also stood and led them both to the door.

"Sounds like a plan, my boy!"

One Day Later

Toshinori was stupefied as he sat in the teacher's office and flipped through the book Young Midoriya had lent him. 'A Treatise of Human Nature' was an absolute behemoth to read through - 480 pages, with Present Mic's bonus question being on page forty three as stated - and it was littered with post-it notes containing annotations and fleeting thoughts digesting the text, annotations and fleeting thoughts that were surprisingly right on the nose.

This was easily a university level piece of literature, and his fifteen year old protégé had broken down the text to something he could understand and applied his own opinions to it, opinions that could easily be tied back to the original work. Clearly, the work had hit home for him… but this was a university level piece of literature. The green haired boy was a first year high schooler who wouldn't even be taking Philosophy until university if he chose to attend.

Clearly, Young Midoriya was smart.

After getting to know him and even after just meeting him, Toshinori figured out his intelligence pretty quickly; his analysis notebooks were proof enough. His point had only been reinforced by his grades once the school year started - fourth out of twenty in a curriculum as advanced as UA's Hero course was nothing to sneeze at. But yesterday during lunch, as he listened to Young Midoriya dissecting this book like he had read through it a million times (he hadn't - the spine wasn't worn down enough for that), he got an inkling that maybe his boy was even smarter than he initially believed.

But how -

"What do you got there, All Might?"

The Symbol of Peace jumped as he turned around to scowl at the sudden intrusion into his personal space. The source - Present Mic - cheekily grinned at him as he sat at his desk across from him, Aizawa following behind. Nearby, he could hear Midnight and Cementoss's voices approaching as well.

Well, the alone time was fun while it lasted.

"Dammit, Mic," Toshinori muttered, closing the book. "Do you really have to scare me like that?"

"It keeps you on your toes!" the younger man said with a shrug. "And besides, it's not my fault you make it extremely easy and fun for me to want to keep doing it!"

Trying to fight the fond smile growing on his face, he passed the book over to his colleague. Present Mic could certainly be a lot to handle at times, but Toshinori really liked him both as a colleague and a friend. The man just radiated good vibes and positivity, making it near impossible to stay annoyed at him for too long.

"To answer your question, I borrowed this book from Young Midoriya," he explained. "We were talking about his latest English exam, and he had some pretty interesting insights about that second bonus question you gave. It came from this book."

The younger blonde made grabby hands towards it, eagerly flipping through it when he got his hands on it. He had told the older man that he'd seen the inspiration for his bonus question in the paper, and he hadn't really expected anyone to get it right. He had been pleasantly surprised to see both Young Yaoyorozu and Young Midoriya get it correct and plainly said as much while they graded papers together. But as his eyes darted across the annotations written down, his usual easy-going grin slowly morphed into an expression of awe. He let out a low whistle as he closed the book and handed it back to him.

"Well then…" he said, clearly at a loss for words as Toshinori set the book to the side. "Wow… I mean… I had my suspicions about the little listener, but -"

"Wait, 'suspicions'?" The older man asked, maybe a tad too overprotective as he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you noticed, All Might?" Present Mic incredulously responded. "Midoriya's smart, like really smart."

Toshinori nodded slowly, not really sure of where the Voice Hero was going with this. "Yes, I have noticed Young Midoriya's intelligence -"

"No, I mean he's really really smart," Present Mic insisted, looking a little impatient that he was being so slow on the uptake. "He's like a little curly haired sponge when it comes to English grammar structure, and you should listen to the way he compares and contrasts it with Japanese grammar structure! Honestly, some of the insights he's told me about are things I saw when studying for the Praxis test!"

"Yeah, the kid's good at English. What's the big deal? Are you just happy to have a student who's actually interested in your class for once?" Aizawa asked, looking and sounding thoroughly unimpressed as he kept his eyes on his computer screen.

Ouch. That stung, and that comment wasn't even directed towards Toshinori.

He saw the split-second hurt flash across Present Mic's face before he immediately masked it and continued on.

Hmm, interesting.

"The big deal is that if he's this smart, why are his grades where they're at right now?"

At both men's confused glances, Present Mic clarified, "I'm not saying that being ranked fourth is bad or anything - it's great! But don't you think he could easily be ranked higher up if it weren't for his grades?"

The black haired man shrugged.

"Then he should study more," he bluntly said. "If he's as smart as you guys say he is, then his grades should reflect that. His Quirk control should reflect that. His decision making skills should reflect that."

The two blondes exchanged dark looks with one another, both silently deciding to ignore the third man from here on out. Their job was made easier by Midnight and Cementoss entering the room, taking their seats at their respective desks after greeting their scruffy colleague.

"Are you saying that Young Midoriya may be deliberately not performing to his full potential?" Toshinori asked, choosing to rephrase what he just heard in a much friendlier way.

Present Mic shrugged.

"Yeah, I mean what else could it be?" he bluntly asked. "I've heard him tutoring his other classmates in things that he'll get wrong on assignments - and it's not like he's telling them the wrong thing or anything. He's teaching them the right things, meaning he knows what he's talking about, but he doesn't apply that to his own schoolwork. If he did, his grades would be way higher, and it's not just me either! Did you hear about what happened yesterday in first period Math?"

The older man frowned and shook his head.

"Ectoplasm had them doing some Trigonometry, and he accidentally made a typo in the equation that he had them solve. He didn't notice it until he was already done writing it out, but he wanted to see if anyone caught it. It looked like Midoriya did, but the kid looked like he was being put in front of a firing squad. Like, he was terrified of pointing out the typo. What's even weirder is that when Ectoplasm checked up on him, he saw that he had the correct equation written down."

Toshinori frowned deeper.

"I'll admit that's strange, but you know how shy Young Midoriya is," Toshinori countered. "I'm not disagreeing with you on what you've seen and heard, but you know that boy avoids the spotlight like his life depends on it."

"Not when doing heroics," Present Mic countered back, leaning forward in his seat. "Not when placed in a life/death situation. You put him in a practical exercise, and his potential is just bursting out into the open. His deductive reasoning, leadership skills, and strategization is in a class of his own. In the classroom, however, he retreats into his shell. It's almost like he doesn't want anyone finding out about his academic potential."

The more he listened to his younger colleague, the more the older man couldn't avoid the realization that he was right. He'd always known that Young Midoriya was shy, but looking back, he saw that something wasn't quite right in regards to his protégé's intelligence versus his academic performance. Last year, Young Midoriya's grades had been pretty bad, putting him twenty seventh out of the thirty students in his class. Seeing both his schoolwork and his natural intelligence and drive, it made something in Toshinori not sit right, but with his boy being hesitant to elaborate on the matter, he let it go. He didn't want to push him into telling him anything he wasn't ready to divulge.

"Look, you knew him before UA, right?" Present Mic asked, not a hint of judgment in his voice. "Why don't you try asking him about it? He likes you, he'll listen to you."

"What about afterward?"

"We talk to the rest of his teachers, and depending on what we see and hear, we get that kiddo an IQ test."

#mha fix it fics #izuku deserves better

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prospectivehero · 8 months

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OHMYGOSH LOOK WHAT I GOT IN THE MAIL!!!

I am SO EXCITED to add this to my collection, and I can't wait to read this second volume of WORLD'S FINEST. I'm most excited to see more of Dan Mora's artwork. I am obsessed with figuring out why I like his design for Superman more than any other rendition (aside from MY ADVENTURES WITH SUPERMAN). There is something so human and charming about his style and I love it!

Unfortunately, I can't read it immediately. If anyone was curious about my system for choosing my next comic from my "unread" pile, here's a snapshot of the process. I have a lot of unread comics in my collection. Some of them I bought on my first "treat yo self" comic shopping spree three years ago.

These aren't all of them, of course. These are just the ones I wanted to read next, along with volumes of Manga that I've been itching to read. I balance my reading of Marvel and DC and anything else. I'm aware I gravitate to Detective Comics more these days, but I still want to diversify my superhero stories and their sources if I can. I'll rotate between a (probably) American comic, then a Manga, Manhwa, or Manhua, and then back to a "Western" comic.

I'm rotating my reading of Yona of the Dawn, Ouran High School Host Club, and Perfect World. I'm almost done with the latter two series, so I'll have to choose new ones. After nearly finishing Ouran, Bisco Hatori has piqued my interest, so I'll move on to one of her other stories. Spy X Family and My Hero Academia are in the queue as well.

Does it seem overly complicated? Probably. But it allows me to try new things while I make progress through books that have been waiting for me, some for years.

#dc comics #world's finest #batman and superman #batman #superman #marvel comics #manga #manhwa #manhua #yona of the dawn #ouran high school host club #perfect world manga #bisco hatori #spy x family #collections

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justiisms · 2 months

Note

"Since Kaito told me such a wild story yesterday, I want to hear one from you too, Little Koko!" *ichi is as excited as ever as he rests against the side of yuta's bed, a few unread manga scattered around him*

"I'm sure you have lots of amazing adventures, especially since you're a super smart detective! Even if it's something small, I wouldn't mind hearing it! I want to know some of the crazy things you've seen!"

"Hm? A wild story from me?" Yuta looks up from one of the manga books he was reading and towards his uncle in surprise! "E-Ehehe, thank you. Y... Yeah, I guess you could say that. And "crazy" is putting it lightly, frankly. Let's see... oh, I suppose I could tell you some of the amazing abilities I was able to use during cases, thanks to my friends from Chief's Agency assisting me."

"Have I ever told you about Fortes, uncle? They are special abilities that some Master Detectives have. Mine is called Coalescence. Basically, after being given permission by a Forte haver to borrow their ability, I hold their hand to activate that power. For one of my first Kanai Ward cases where we had to solve several locked room mysteries around town, one of my detective partners had an ability where you can literally see the state of a crime scene in the past! It was very helpful in collecting clues and evidence that otherwise would have been gone."

"Then for another case where I was basically like a spy like Uncle Phanty, one of my other partners has an ability where he can disguise himself, and so for us to be able to investigate inside of an all-girl's high school, w-we... disguised ourselves as a high school girl, me, and a teacher; him. It was pretty embarrassing, aha..."

"My third case was probably the craziest of all, with having to defuse bombs in several different areas throughout the city, being chased around by Peacekeepers, and eventually: an entire district literally flooded from the water bank pipes being destroyed! We had to travel through all that with a boat and everything.... and my partner who helped me there, had the ability to rewind time several seconds back, literally!"

"And then when exploring the city's gigantic lab, the one I investigated with has an ability where you can practically turn yourself into a ghost, while your real body sleeps. E-Even for me, it's still so unbelievable when that happened.... but yeah, it really goes to show just how amazing Fortes are, huh? And that I can borrow their abilities if they let me. If using RPG terms, I guess it's like my own special magic power? Ah, and speaking of which... out of all my detective partners and friends, I have one special one who was by my side through it all. She... um...doesn't exactly live where you can easily visit her, but if you two could meet... I know you'd get along wonderfully. She's a big Dragon Quest fan like you are! And while always loves to drive me crazy, I wouldn't replace herself with anything else in the world. She... is the reason I was even able to go on those wild 'adventures' through Kanai Ward like I did. I owe her a lot."

("Aww, Master~!") Blushing, Shinigami brushes up against him, making the Koko chuckle!

Then realizing how long he's been going on, his cheeks turn just the slightest red as he scratches his cheek~ "O-Oh man, sorry, I didn't mean to ramble on so much! I know a lot of this sounds insane, even compared to Kaito's adventures, but it was thanks to everyone helping me, that I was even able to solve such bizarre cases. Nowadays, I do a lot more normal cases ever since leaving that city, which I'm definitely not complaining about. But it'd be nice to see all my friends I met there, again, sometime... Thanks for listening, Uncle Ichiban! I hope I was able to meet your expectations and tell you some exiting things!"

#GOODNESS SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG GFNJF KOKORAMBLING!!!!#HE WANTED TO TELL HIS UNCLE ABOUT ALL THE ~TOTALLY~ NORMAL WAYS HE SOLVED CASES IN KANAI WARD TWAS ALL~#and he just had to mention Shinigami okay~!#WELL: excluding the 'death god that permanently haunts him part' JFNDJDNJ but you know!!! HEHEHEHE.....#Yuta answers;;#Shinigami;;#essenceofjustice

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schmergo · 10 months

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I have this problem where, when I start reading a new book, I imagine the book I recently finished singing a mournful rendition of that "When She Loved Me" song from Toy Story 2 that always made me cry as a kid, heartbreaking video montage and all. It makes me feel so guilty to just let a book lie around after I finish it.

Like, I've typically always preferred to get books from the library and then return them as soon as I'm done with them. But the thing is, if your husband always wants to go into bookstores and look around, you don't want to feel left out. If he buys himself something, occasionally you'll buy yourself something, too. But it feels somehow cruel and disloyal to my pre-existing books when I do this.

Imagine, you're a fresh crisp new book so eager to be purchased and read. Someone finally walks in and buys you and you're inseparable... at first. You go to bed with her, you sit on the porch with her, you travel with her. Then all of a sudden she closes your cover for the last time, puts you on a dusty shelf (or worse, the limbo of the Far Side Of The Bedside Table) and turns to a new book.

Weeks, months go by as you watch her read book after book without ever picking you up again. Did you do something wrong? Was it your ending? Did she just get tired of you? If you weren't any good, why did she spend so much time with you? Why was she so excited to see you in that bookstore, so excited to bring you home, and then mere weeks later, she's treating you like a stranger?

So, long story short, if I ever buy myself a book, please feel free to either borrow it or permanently take it from me after I finish reading it. I hate seeing books gathering dust unread and I will not get upset if you forget to give it back unless it was, like, a reference volume that I consult regularly. Please take these lonely orphaned books off my hands.

#reading #books #literature

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peonierose · 2 years

Text

Wake up Little Susie

Chapter 1

Nightbound AU vs. Hänsel & Gretel

Book: Nightbound AU

Type: Series

Characters involved: Hänsel van Andresen (M!OC), Gretel van Andresen (F!OC), Nik Ryder (M!MC), Katherine (F!MC), Garrus (M!MC)

Words: 2,500+

Rating: General, a few curse words

Summary: Hänsel and Gretel two amazing supernatural hunters are working on a new case that leads them to New Orleans and to old friends. So let the good times roll.

A/N: I’m posting this for @nbappreciationweek

Side note: This story has been a year in the making and I hope you’ll give it a chance. A massive thank you to these wonderful people for being super excited for this story and helping me with it. @annieruok94 ❤️@ofmischiefandmedicine 💖 @doriopenheart 🧡 @ladylamrian 💜 @inlocusmads 💚

2nd Side note: I’ve put out an intro you can catch up here. If you want to listen to the playlist I’ve created for this chapter you can do that here.

———————————————————

I stride into Hänsel’s room not caring if he is awake or not. This can’t wait any longer.

The room is pitch black. You can’t even make out the sleeping figure, who slumbers peacefully, tangled in his sheets, and snores softly.

I take a moment to look at him. He looks so peaceful, like he has no care in the world. Well it’s about to get interesting.

I touch his shoulder gently, and start to shake him awake. He stirs and throws out every curse word he knows.

“What in three hells, Gretel?“ His voice is still rough from sleep. He puts his pillow over his head, to avoid the light that spills through the room from outside the hall.

“Wake up sleeping beauty,“ I smile sweetly, because I know he hates it when I wake him up.

He groans and sits up in bed. Thank god the sheets cover the important bits, while the pillow gets pushed to the side.

“I wasn’t sleeping a hundred years. And where’s the fire? Why do I have to be awake?“ He asks sleepily. He still sounds groggy.

I shake my head at him.

“There’s no fire, Mr. grouchy pants. But we do have a case. Get dressed,“ I tell him, while I pull the curtains apart to let in some sunshine. He blinks against the harsh light and covers his face with his arm.

“Seriously? What case? We just came back from a hunt, Gretel. And don’t call me grouchy pants.“

I turn my head in his direction and smile. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“No rest for the wicked.“ I chirp.

He rolls his eyes.

“It’s creepy for you to be so chipper in the morning. Again. What case?“

He holds my gaze for a few seconds longer while he looks for any type of reaction. His dark blond hair disshelved and his hazel eyes sleepy but alert.

Not willing to disclose any details yet,

I walk to his closet and pick a pair of dark jeans and a flannel shirt and throw it at him. The clothes hit him in the face.

“I told you to get dressed. We’re wasting sunlight.“

I leave his room and hear him curse. I grin. My job here is done.

__________________________________

Hänsel walks into the kitchen. His jaw set, his shoulders pulled back. He gets himself some coffee and leans on the kitchen island and crosses his ankles. He appears relaxed and comfortable, but I know he’s anything but.

He takes a slow sip and looks at me directly. His face unreadable. Even though we’re twins (though I’m the older one), even I can’t decipher what’s going through his head right now.

“You woke me up. We all know how much I love that,“ he says sarcastically.

“Without even telling me what the hell is going on!“

I firmly bite my bottom lip.

“You won’t like it.“ I admit.

Hänsel only raises an eyebrow.

“Go on, sis.“

He empathizes that by pointing to his black coffee mug with the words “Hell raiser“ in my direction.

I walk to my room and hand him several pages I printed out. Dozens of faces stare back at me.

Disappearances of at least 20 people. From all sorts of backgrounds and of all ethnicities. Caucasian, African-American, Asian. You name it.

Women and men. Tall and short. Long and short hair. There seems to be no connection between them.

Hänsel sets down his coffee mug, to take a closer look at the missing file reports. He sets the papers down and gives me a pointed look.

“You’re right I don’t like it. This is turning into a weird obsession Gretel. You’ve got to stop this. I mean it.“

He takes his mug and is about to walk away.

“Weird obsession?“ My voice is steely.

He stops mid-walk and turns around.

“I’m saying this as your twin brother who loves you. Those people“ he points at the papers in my hands.

“It’s the local polices job to find them and bring them back safe and sound. Not ours. We only deal with the supernatural stuff. You know? What goes bump in the night,“ he finishes.

I gulp.

“So you’re saying you won’t come with me?“ I ask defiantly.

“And where is that exactly?“ He asks calmly.

I wet my lips and look away not able to meet his eyes.

“New Orleans,“ I say and he nods.

“Now we’re getting closer. This is why you want to investigate? So you can see your former flame again?“ He wiggles his eyebrows.

I narrow my eyes.

“Oh Nik you’re so dreamy. We should like hunt monsters together…blah…blah…“ he says in high-pitched voice to mimic me.

I take a pillow from the couch and throw it at him. It hits him in the chest and he doubles over from laughing.

“I don’t talk like that!“ I cross my arms over my chest.

“Nik and I are just friends. We always have been,“ I say.

“He’s not even my type,“ I add and Hänsel shudders.

“I don’t even want to know what your type is. There are certain things a brother does not need to know about his sister,“ he cringes.

I sigh.

“That’s not the reason I want to go to New Orleans. I want to find out what happened to these people. Or do you mean to tell me you don’t care what happens to their fate?“ I say sternly.

He stops laughing and turns serious. His hazel eyes glinting.

“Of course I care. But there’s no indication that there is a supernatural element involved,“ he states.

“When you looked at the faces did you take a closer look? There’s no connection. They’re being picked at random. But there’s got to be something that connects all of them. I say we fly down to New Orleans and find out what that is,“ I say.

That gets his attention. His eyes turn cold and he presses his lips into a firm line.

“Could be human trafficking. Or sex trade. They’re all kinds of sickos out there. Supernaturals aren’t that different from humans,“ he shrugs.

“You’re turning away from the truth Hänsel. These people are being picked up and no one bats an eye,“ I implore.

He sighs deeply.

“If you’re implying that this is the work of the witch, then I have to disappoint you. She’s dead Gretel. We made damn sure of that.“

Clearly, he‘s not willing to even entertain the idea.

“Did we though? We were kids back then,“ I say and tug nervously at my long blonde braid.

“Even though we were kids I’m pretty sure if you separate every part of a persons body, shove it into an oven and it burns? Yeah. That’s as dead as can be,“ he says matter-of-fact.

I shake my head I’ve heard enough.

“Fine. Then stay here sleep, drink and do nothing. While people are taken from their beds, or picked off the streets. I mean who cares right?“

I point a finger at myself.

“I’ll go investigate. Because I don’t want them to go through the same hell that we did. You might’ve moved on, and you’re trying to forget…“ My voice almost hitches on the last words. “I can’t.“

His voice breaks the silence.

“It’s funny, really. That you think I’ve moved on. Or that I can forget what that witch almost did to us. She lures kids to her knowing exactly which buttons to push,“ he stops and then continues.

“Did you know I still have nightmares every night?“ He confesses. I look up at him, surprise clearly written all over my face, my lips slightly parted.

“No. Why did you never say anything, Hänsel?“

My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I always felt like it’s a weakness. Admitting that you have nightmares. All the things we’ve seen, hunted and killed. It’s ironic, really. The one thing that has me woken up sweaty almost every single night is that damn gingerbread house. It wasn’t bad enough I developed diabetes. No. Seeing her turn from someone nice into someone evil in a heartbeat? Yeah, I’ll never forget that face. I’m glad we escaped that hellhole. But the memories still linger on.“

He rubs his eyes tiredly.

I close the distance and envelop him in a hug. It’s like a weight has been lifted. His shoulders sag and he almost crushes me when he returns the hug. We stand in our little kitchen, hugging each other like our lives depend on it.

Each other is all we have left.

What else have I not seen? Hänsel still has nightmares. I did not see his pain. I bury my face in his flannel shirt. Not able to stop some tears that escape my eyes. Soaking into his shirt. I wipe them away with the pad of my thumb.

After a couple of minutes we break apart.

“Want to tell me what Ryder said?“ Hänsel asks.

“We didn’t talk that much. I only wanted to let him know about the disappearances. He was genuinely surprised. I could tell by his voice that I caught him off-guard. He promised to get some info and let me know.“

I gnaw on my lips thoughtfully.

“How is that possible?“ He sounds suspicious.

“Well, he said people disappear all the time. Since these are people from the streets or homeless shelters we’re talking about…“ I shrug and continue.

“The police doesn’t think it’s worth the while to investigate. According to Nik they’ll look into it, but he’s not very hopeful that they’ll do a thorough enough job.“

He ponders over that for a minute.

“So what? You think the witch somehow made it out alive? Even though we dismembered and burned her? Even a necromancer can’t bring her back. You’d need a body for that. There were only ashes left,“ he says matter of fact.

I hate it when he takes that tone. The It’s-a-fact-and-you-know-it tone.

I turn my head to the side.

“There is actually a necromancer in New Orleans that we can ask for help,“ I look at Hänsel expectantly.

He shakes his head.

“You’ve got be kidding. You’ve thought of everything haven’t you?“ He smiles widely.

“If it turns out as a dead end? We’ll go home,“ I say adamantly.

“But if she’s alive and breathing? I want to stop her once and for all.“

I roll my shoulders.

Itching to go out there and just let out the anger I’ve been feeling lately. Or even better, take out my crossbow and shoot at some targets. I could use the practice.

“Slow down Van Helsing. What else is on your mind?“ He asks.

Of course he picked up on that.

“Ever since we escaped, I’ve devoured every lore and legend there is. Anything I can get my hands on. To find out what happened. What her ultimate goal was. Ever since I caught sight of this case, I needed to get more info. To find out anything I can. Because the more we know the better we’re prepared,“ I shiver because I feel cold all of a sudden. I put my arms around myself to warm my body up.

“And your conclusion?“ He prods.

I leave the kitchen to get my laptop. I put it onto the kitchen island and when it’s fired up I click on the files I’ve saved.

Everything is alphabetically organized so that I can easily find everything.

“I’ve printed out a map and circled all the places people were taken. The places seem completely random, except…“ I explain and show him a map of New Orleans on the screen.

“If you take a closer look you will see that this line right here?“ I point to it and continue “Is a ley line that stretches from New York up until New Orleans,“ I say.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Meaning?“

“It means that whatever they’re planning needs a lot of juice. The ley lines would offer that. According to legends, it amplifies the magical powers that you already have and makes any spell or ritual more potent. It also means they have a very short amount of time to make it work. The ley lines won’t let you use their power for long and keeping that line open is straining to say the least,“ I finish.

“Meaning you’d probably need a lot of magical users for that,“ he says.

“Exactly,“ I nod.

“What else have you got on those ley lines?“ He looks intently at the screen, the light from the laptop reflects on his face and gives him a blue hue.

I scroll though the files I’ve compiled.

“That’s pretty much it. There is not much known about it. Most of it are legends, and you know how that works. Opinions are divided on what to believe.“

I lean forward to turn the laptop off and close it.

“It’s like the blue-line case,“ Hänsel mumbles

I stare at my brother. Who seems deep in thought. He tries to piece our last case back together.

“There are similarities, but I don’t think it’s the same,“ I say and shake my head.

“If what you say is true. Who or what would need this much power? And where would they even find people powerful enough for it?“ he asks.

I shrug.

“That I don’t know.“

I walk back and forth, my thoughts running wild.

“There’s something off about the way these people are taken. I can feel it Hänsel. And I know you do too. This whole thing just reeks of black magic. Someone on an ego power trip,“ I pin him down with an intense gaze.

“It’s not just the ley lines that worry me. Halloween is close by. The veil to the other side gets thinner by the day. Nothing good can come from that. We have less than a month to find these people before it’s too late.“

He stops me from wearing a path into the carpet and takes my cold hands in his warm ones.

“If it will put your mind at ease. We’ll look into it,“ he says.

“But I can’t make a promise to be nice to Ryder,“ he says heat rises in his high cheekbones.

“Why? He’s never done anything to you, has he?“

Racking my brain and not able to come up with a single thing he could’ve said or done.

“He called me and I quote “a mediocre hunter who only gets in his way.“

He looks incredulously at me.

I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle a laugh that’s trying to bubble to the surface. But a small sound still escapes past my fingers.

“Are you laughing? At me? Your own twin brother?“ His face twists into a grimace.

I take my hand away and burst out laughing.

“You should’ve seen your face. It was hilarious…Mediocre. I’ve got to steal that one,“ I put my hand on my stomach. It hurts from all the laugther. It almost makes me double-over.

He puts his hands on his hips and try to look intimidating, but fail miserably.

I pat his arm gently.

“Don’t be a drama queen little brother. I’ll save you from the bad hunter pinky promise.“

He scoffs and shakes off my arm.

“Whatever.“

I shake my head, still laughing.

He goes to his room to pack. I’ve already packed my suitcase. All we need to do is catch our flight.

And I can already tell it’s going to be a long trip.

#Wake up Little Susie #Nightbound AU #Hänsel van Andresen (M!OC)#Gretel van Andresen (F!OC)#Nik Ryder #Katherine #Garrus

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notasouleater · 5 months

Text

There’s a ghost in my house.

“Ghost” may be the wrong word. There’s a spirit. An apparition. A burning hole in the shape of a person.

House is also the wrong word. Place. It comes out there, when I am alone. But even outside when I cannot see it, I feel it at the corners of my vision, falling into nothing.

There are more important things, than the ghost. I have a nursery and store to tend to. A life to tend to. Friends, to tend to.

My friend is a good man. In hard times, truthfully, but doing his best. His husband passed not long ago, a dear friend of mine as well. He took it as well as you would expect, especially when it happened so suddenly, to a man in good health. He barely spoke for a week, and even then his words were truly not for himself but for his young daughter. She was the only reason he started moving again. His older brother and his brother’s partner, his only family, came down to help for a while, but had to leave on business. He’s doing much better now, but I still help where I can.

He often forgets things as of late. He doesn’t like to admit it, not when he feels he must keep everything together. It’s getting better, but he still won’t hear a word on it. I help where I can.

I was at his house when I first noticed the strangeness, though I didn’t know it at the time. We’d had a lovely evening (I cooked), and were playing with his daughter. She’s a smart girl, and is enamored with stories. She takes great pleasure in reenacting the ones she reads in books, or ones she makes herself. She was just crowning her papa- with a paper crown decorated in crayon- when someone passed outside the window, loudly playing a song.

It was one that took me barely a moment to place. A favorite of my friend and his love, one they’d often danced to. I looked to him, and for a moment an expression I could not place flashed over his face, before it settled into something unreadable. This wasn’t unusual. He hardly let himself face things like that, or in essence, the one big thing. Not out in the world, where he needed to be a sole breadwinner, or in his house, where he needed to be a sole homemaker, and especially not in front of his daughter. Not after how hard he fell that first week.

I worried, but he immediately turned back to laughing as he took his crown, and the evening continued as a pleasant one. I worried too much, it seemed. Happiness was creeping back in.

It wasn’t long after that he started to take ill. Not that he didn’t try to hide it, but even for a man with a talent in illusion, he had little energy to spare for it. One day I was watching his daughter for him after school, and ended up walking her home when I was sure he’d intended to pick her up. He opened the door with his usual energy, seemingly as unaware of any mix-up as his child was, but I could see him blinking away sleep, and tightness around his smile. I cornered him the next day, and he confessed he’d been sleeping poorly, and was starting a cough.

I convinced him to let his daughter stay with my mother for the weekend (a visit both were more than excited for), and to stay with me for the same time. He was easier to sway than I would usually expect, but I suspect he was feeling worse than he was letting on. But I suspect he had a buried wish not to be alone that night.

We stayed mainly in the house. It was nice, we hardly had full calm days together anymore, even before. Work and families and all good things, but still with days like this one. He mainly kept to the couch, not quite dozing off, and I kept my work to the same room.

For the better part of the day I only left for long enough to bring back food. Nothing that took preparing. His husband was always the cook among us. In a way I was privately glad I was sure it would go without comment. What was there I could say? Some bring poetics to grief, but he’s just gone. I lived as before, and he was utterly gone.

I ignored the smoke in the corner of my eyes as I left the kitchen.

Eventually there came a time in the day where I had to head out for a bit. I made my friend promise me to stay on the couch (to actually rest) and left. My tasks were mainly in busy areas, groceries and such, but the crowds didn’t stop the burning hole in the corner of my vision, which ebbed and flowed to its own strange reasoning. Quiet as I looked through bulbs but a screaming silent void as I tried to find vegetables. I gave up before I entirely finished collecting the produce, lest I do something drastic in the middle of a store.

At long last I was able to head back, and looking through the window saw my friend had made good on his promise to rest. As I wished not to disturb him, I had nothing that would require refrigeration, and I had tasks to tend to anyways, I went around back to the nursery. It’s smaller than the one connected directly to the shop, but a more controlled environment for plants that might need more care.

It was peaceful there. The rhythms of the work were calming, and I relaxed into the feel of dirt under my fingers. There wasn’t much to do, but I took my time doing it. A hole started burning into the corner of my vision. I ignored it. I pushed the time before returning to the house.

But something within me bucked. Perhaps it was the strain of the preceding days, or just my growing frustration, but I found myself struck with fury at this emptiness, this void in the shape of a man. I told it to go, shooing it in ways I hadn’t tried since they failed when it first appeared, and worked just about as well now. As I did, it pulled away from the corners, starting to fill my vision as my voice raised, until I could stand it no longer, grasping around and wrapping my fingers around the first object I found to hurl at the monstrous apparition.

In a blink it disappeared.

This surprised me. I hadn’t honestly thought it would work. I ventured cautiously into the room, towards where the broken remains of what I could now tell was a small trowel lay. It still did not reappear. It was only when I truly turned my attention toward the ground that I realized what I had done.

It was a simple trowel. Hand held, mass-produced, with a wooden handle that often tried to splinter and was now split from the head of the shovel. It was simple, cheap, and broken. And it had been a gift from my departed friend.

Something broke. It felt like a second funeral, but if I had been the force that struck him down. He couldn’t be any deader than he was only minutes before but it felt like he was. I didn’t realize the volume of my grief, or even that I was crying, until my friend rushed in from the house, roused from where he lay.

I felt bad about that. I tried to reassure him but that ship had firmly sailed. I didn’t need to explain what happened at least, he saw the shovel and figured it out, though he assumed it had been dropped. I don’t think I could’ve handled admitting I’d thrown it.

Despite my attempts at downplaying, he remained resolute. He refused to leave or sit, and surveying the damage he informed me he knew a woodworker who owed him a favor (I swear half the town does), and that he believed that while modifications may be needed, all the original parts should be salvageable.

I don’t know how to say why, exactly, that last bit meant so much to me. But it helped. It helped a lot.

I still wasn't entirely back, and he could clearly tell. I tried to apologize for bothering him over something so small, but he waved me off with a scoff, and told me not to say that. I told him I barely had reason to be upset. Of course I was sad to break something our friend had given me, but it didn’t change anything. He was just as gone either way.

He gave me an odd look at that. But he gave in, and allowed me to pull him (and he, of course, pulled me), back inside.

Even as the daylight faded, we stayed up for a while, after that. I stopped it earlier than I might have under different circumstances though, he was still sick after all. He tried to convince me he would be fine if we just stayed on the couches, but I insisted he move to a proper bed. He took a familiar post in the room just across the hall from mine, but requested I leave my door open. He didn’t want me to get sick from him, but he’d sleep better with an extra assurance I was there. Truthfully, so would I.

I could hardly see him from my bed, of course, but I listened for the longest time through our twin doorways. It took longer than I would wish, but eventually his breathing steadied into the steady thrum of sleep. I waited, lying awake, but aside from the occasional faint cough it stayed strong.

I was finally able to settle down to sleep, but found it evaded me. Something felt just felt off, and anytime I started to drift I would suddenly jerk awake. The sense of wrongness grew until it reached a point where I decided to get up. I planned to do a quick lap around the house, just to reassure myself that nothing was awry, but as I stood I noticed a fog as I had never seen before outside my window. No sooner had I seen this than I heard creaking from the hallway, and when I rushed out I found my friend. His eyes were barely open, still caught in the delirium of slumber. Sleep-walking then, but he had a strange purpose as he passed me, stepping quickly through the house and pulling open the front door before I could stop him.

His husband stood there.

I stood frozen but- no. It wasn’t right. Not even a ghost, an apparition, like his deceased visage seen through the ripples of a dream. Its clothes shifted, like a picture that changes at different angles, and no matter how I turned I could never quite find his eyes. It held out its hand, and my friend took it.

They danced. I less heard than felt their old song as it swelled around them, guiding their movements the same as it so often had in life. As they swirled I caught my friend’s eye through the mists, though he didn’t see me. He looked only at the face of the vision, his own face serene in a way that spoke of coming home from a long trip, contented just to be among friends. Any waking worry was smoothed from his brow. I was transfixed, unable to move lest I interrupted the scene.

I don’t know how long they danced for. It may have been hours, but eventually the music began to fade. The dance came to an end, pulling back to the house, and the specter slipped out into the mist, away from my friend’s still outstretched hand. He watched it go from the doorway, an emptiness in his face.

As my friend seemed to go devoid of feelings in the apparition's absence, I felt my own rouse. No wonder he was getting sick, how long had he been losing sleep and spending nights barefoot out in the cold? What wicked thing cast this spell on him? Pulled him from his home with nothing to offer but a cruel reminder left in its wake?

I rushed to his side, and ushered him back into my home.

He didn’t say anything, for the longest time. He was definitely fully awake, but he just sat upon the couch, studiously avoiding my gaze. Finally, in a quiet sort of voice, he asked if I had seen it too. I said yes, and his face poured into relief. I told him we would find a way to stop the thing, but he gave me a funny look.

I thought he must be confused. I had seen it, yes, but it was still a dream. It wasn’t the person we knew and it was hurting him.

He immediately pushed back at me, distraught. He was under no illusions, he cried, he knew it was only a dream. But he needed this dream. He needed it.

This gave me pause. What good could something like that do? But I thought back over the events I had witnessed. The spirit itself, in truth, seemed to pose little danger, and after the shock wore off his face I thought looked empty before now focused into something wistful, not hollow.

I could admit he seemed happier for it, these past few weeks. But even if the vision wouldn’t hurt him, the problem stood, as I told him, that he only met it in the dead hours of night, and not in his home but out in the cold. Their meetings were pushed into the dark, and it was sickening him.

He sat in still quiet. He didn’t know if he could meet it anywhere else, he admitted. But he could try.

We slept in, for a long time, that morning.

We spent that next day much in the same way as the first. But sometimes, as I passed him, I could hear him humming.

The next week we made more plans together, after, of course, he was feeling better. He even started looking well rested. It was just simple shopping, or walking together to pick up his daughter from school. It was nice. Often, as we walked together, I could feel the hole at the corner of my vision. I’m sure he could see me glancing at it, but he let it go unmentioned. Somehow, its presence didn’t feel as oppressive as before.

There was still a moment again, when I was alone at home, where it grew, and I felt it should swallow me. I reached again for something to throw, but looked this time, before. It was just a winter hat, but one that belonged to my departed friend. Funny I’d barely noticed it these last months, it only became mine after he forgot it so many times I decided to just keep it. He hadn’t noticed for at least a week. When I remembered myself, and pulled back to the present, the emptiness had withdrawn back to its corner.

I wore the hat the next day. My friend noticed it with a smile, surprising me by actually speaking the memory. We laughed together about the only man in the world who could fail to find the hat he was looking for on his best friend’s head. There was no proper reason for it, but it felt like he was walking with us, and the specter hardly burned at all.

Later that week his family came to meet me at my shop. He pointed out flowers to his daughter, naming the ones that had been his husband’s favorite (anything yellow, really). In the quiet moments as I put together a last bouquet, I could see him swaying. We walked home together, sticking to each other up until the last moment when I split off to my home.

I sit there now. I have new flowers in my sills, now that it is warm enough, little golden buds peeking out. The void is still there, and perhaps it shall always be, but it is smaller now. And when I glance at the flowers in my window, it doesn’t scream, but sings.

#my writing #creative writing #ghosts #death mention #I've never claimed to be a subtle writer #shout-out to #@justheretolurk24 #for being the only reason this is at all edited #anyways the docs name (and. only name/title) for this one is 'barbie and the twelve dancing princesses'#for reasons I'm sure are completely and totally obvious for realsies #this isn't strictly about Lauren and Trickster so I'm not tagging them but. in my heart

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fiftytwotwentytwo · 1 year

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Closing the Book on 52 Books

I saw a YouTube video not too long ago where a person talked about how they also read 52 books in one year and how it changed their life.

So, is my life changed?

No.

But I will say a weight has been lifted.

I initially started this challenge because I could not remember the last time I read a book (It had been at minimum 2 years since I read a book) and I wanted to fall in love with reading - I wanted to make it a lifelong habit.

Well - it certainly could have been my book choices but most of the time I felt like I was doing homework. I also thought by reading almost everyday that my reading speed and comprehension would increase - to be honest I never measured it AND don't know how to measure it, but I feel like I am about the same as I was.

What will happen after this?:

With my personality - I have recognized that I can drop things pretty easily without remorse. I could (and most likely) easily slide back into not reading books again.

A reverse addiction....

A Reverse Addiction is coy way of me saying that laziness is my real addiction.

Man-Oh-Man, I absolutely love doing nothing. I could do nothing for weeks if I could afford to or didn't have obligations (my internet persona is going from self appointed "Person Amongst Saints" (big JK right there) to a real Piece of Shit - no JKs there) AND I recognize that about myself.

And since laziness is an obvious realization for myself I started creating grand, yet arbitrary, goals for myself each year.

Back in college an acquaintance stated the "challenges" I set for myself were just punishements to keep me living in misery and I would have to disagree - yes - sometimes the goal I can set for myself can be tedious, exhausting, and eat away at my social engagements - but at the same time I like having something to look forward to - something to break me of my laziness - and it wouldn't be too far fetched to say that I don't at least least learn something new (either in knowledge or internalized retrospection).

Anywhosel, back to the books - Will I continue reading?

Well, I not going to worry about - I not going to set goals - so I do forsee I will probably not read much. In a perfect world What would be nice is if read about 1 to 1.5 books per month... 12-18 books per year... but no promises to myself.

If I do seek out some books - Here are some author's on my "booklist":

V.E. Schwab: I love their writing style - read two books already by Schwab. I have a third book of theirs already collecting dust that I am somewhat excited to read.

Taylor Jenkins Reid: Read two of her books - Thought they were good. Enjoyed a small discovery that her stories/characters live in the same universe - I wouldn't mind reading more of her stuff.

Stephen King: Only read one of his books, but I was thoroughly impressed and of course he has a reputation to stand up too.

Agatha Christie: I was a bit skeptical - but her mystery books are legit and I could use more mystery in my life.

Lee Child: This one I think I was most shocked by - Killing Floor (first installment to the Jack Reacher series) was sooo good. I think I wouldn't mind following Ol' Jack Reacher around.

Kurt Vonnegut: This dude has some effing style when it comes to his work - dark humor and a bit absurdist - kind of elevated punk.

And Now - Here is the list of books from my self described Worst Reads to my Favorites:

The Love Hypothesis (Wasted Potential - BS premise)

Ready Player Two (An absolute fall from grace - Made me Hate fictional versions of John Hughes and Prince which in turn made me non-fictional despise the author)

The Hating Game (IMO - Hot Garbage)

Interview with a Vampire (Depressing)

American Psycho (No Charm - Boring)

One Hundred Years of Solitude (Artful, Poetic, Repetitive, Dull)

Midnight Sun (An unreadable cash grab)

Brave New World

Last of the Breed

The Fuck-Up

Eat, Pray, Love

All About Me

The Midnight Library

Tuesdays with Morrie

Feed

Murder at the Vicarage

The Paris Apartment

Snow Crash

Carry On

Cinder

Leviathan Wakes

Grey

Crushing It

The Unhoneymooners

No Memes of Escape

Where The Crawdads Sing

Silver Screen Fiend

Yearbook

Mexican Gothic

Survivor

Invisible Monsters

Malibu Rising

Vengeful

Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone

The Maidens

Breakfast of Champions

Coma

The Storyteller

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

Death on the Nile

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

Verity

The 100 Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared

Circe

Song of Achilles

Jurassic Park

Pulp

11/22/63

Killing Floor

The Confederacy of Dunces

Slaughterhouse-Five

Vicious (Read Vicious in late January and I still think about to this day -Could not put it down - Fun, Exciting, Dark, Read like a Movie)

RED = Cannot Stand / Unbearable

BLUE = Highly Recommend / Keepers / Will Re-Read

GREEN = A New Favorite - Top 5 for Life

#52 in 22 #books #book club #reading #book review #page count #good reads #Vicious #love reading #worst books of 2022 #Best Books #favorite authors

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peachscribe · 2 years

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peach’s 2022 summer booklist

you know the drill and if you don’t: i spend my breaks from school trying to make a dent in my piles of unread books, then proceed to gather them in lists that have a brief synopsis, my thoughts on the book, and then a rating. let’s get to it shall we?

winter 20-21 / summer 21 / winter 21-22

1. Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth

WE ARE STARTING OFF STRONG AND I MEAN THAT. this novel i bought off a whim, and i really didn’t even mean to buy it - i just couldn’t resist. some may think of that as poetic given the nature of the novel. plain bad heroines is a matryoshka doll of a novel, involving many stories but all that center around the all-girls finishing school brookhants in rhode island and the land it inhabits. centering around a collection of plain, bad heroines, the novel jumps between past and present to tell the story of how each of our heroines become - perhaps fatally - entangled in the curse of brookhaunts, a curse which takes many forms, but is most notably personified by a fog of wasps. i have to say it simply: i love this book. i am enchanted with it. it’s new, and exciting, and delightfully queer and gothic. it’s modern and clever without being overwhelmingly so, and the voice and structure of its narrative is so engaging. i don’t know what else to say except i loved every moment of it.

515/10 these are the sort of plain, bad heroines that ive always longed to look up to

2. Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H. Lawrence

after her husband becomes paralyzed from the waist down while fighting in the first world war, connie chatterley resigns herself to living and caring for her husband until she begins to feel frustrated at the stagnant, seemingly pointless direction of her life and the post-war industrial decadence of the world around her. enter: the handsome, brooding gamekeeper of the chatterley estate, oliver mallors. this novel was written in 1928 and it is a fascinating read on the culture of the time period in england regarding sex, modernity, gender, industrialization, disability and so much more. this book was actually banned from publication in many countries due to its scandalous content - and boy does this book get scandalous; this is a book about a lot of things, but it is primarily a book about sex, and it is not at all afraid of that fact. i found the story itself to be engaging, but if you’re thinking of reading this, then you have to keep in mind the cultural moment the book was written in and what prejudices cling to the text because of it.

7/10 it’s unbelievably profound at times

3. Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

now in his forties, cal stephanides tells the story of his childhood as well as reflects back through generations to trace the passage of the intersex gene down onto him. a combination of grecian culture, narrative witticism, and a commitment to noticing the circular tendencies of life through generations, middlesex is the story of an immigrant family reconciling their grecian roots with american culture. this book also has such interesting things to say about gender, particularly coming from an intersex main character who transitioned from living as a girl in childhood to continuing life as boy. it took me a while to get through this book because it is so dense, but it’s poignant, forward-looking, and ultimately very loving.

7/10 it’s honestly quite a ride

4. Mr. Fox by Helen Oyeyemi

if you’ve seen my other book list posts you may recognize helen oyeyemi’s name from when i read white is for witching, which is no accident; that novel intrigued me greatly, and so when i saw mr. fox i knew i had to read it. in this novel, celebrated author and master at killing fictional women st. john fox and his wife daphne become wrapped in a writing game that feels all too real - made even more so by mr. fox’s fictional muse mary coming to life and interfering with his writing habit of killing the women in his stories as well as his marriage. just like white is for witching, mr. fox twists and turns in a way that is both unexpected and clever, weaving meta-storytelling into fairytales and the all-too-real depictions of love and struggle in relationships. despite seeming to take place in post-world war I decadence, there’s something about this book that feels timeless, even while sticking to its time setting - maybe it only seems timeless now, in an era of decadence and fast-approaching-already-here disaster. whatever it is, this is a book that makes you think, or at the very least is a collection of pleasant and engaging sights, sounds, and sensations.

11/10 the more i think about it the more i love it

5. The Tea Dragon Society by K. O’Neill

this is a short graphic novel about a budding blacksmith named greta who, after returning a tea dragon in danger to its caretaker, learns about the dying art of tea dragon caretaking and begins to form new friendships and bonds with kind people who are passionate about each other and their tea dragon companions. this is such a beautifully illustrated and written book, and, despite its short length, it really left me feeling ver warm and satisfied, much like a cup of tea. the stories of greta and her new friends is just so heartwarming and full of love, and i highly recommend this novel to anyone looking for a beautiful, low-stakes read or a fun graphic novel for younger readers

10/10 made me feel warm

6. The Tea Dragon Festival by K. O’Neill

if this sounds familiar, it’s because it’s a sort of prequel story to the tea dragon society! in this story, rinn is out gathering food for their village’s upcoming tea dragon festival when they stumble upon their village’s guardian dragon who has been asleep for 80 years. while some (quite younger looking) characters from the tea dragon society search for the mythical being that caused the dragon’s decades’ long sleep, rinn tries to help their new dragon friend feel more at home in their village. this is another absolutely beautiful story, and, although i didn’t mention it in my tea dragon society blurb, it is just as diverse as the tea dragon society! it features a nonbinary main character, many characters who communicate through sign language, other lgbtq+ characters, and many characters of color as well!! just like with the tea dragon society, i cannot recommend this story enough to anyone who is craving a beautiful art style, a low-stakes plot, and a story driven by kindness, magic, and love.

10/10 both tea dragon stories have made me feel emotional in a distinctly happy way

7. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saénz

two boys meet at a swimming pool and spend two summers discovering the secrets of their parents, each other, and the universe. ive already read this book a few times, but i did this reread for the sequel that came out recently. as for this book, what else is there to say? it’s beautiful.

17/10 im crazy about this book

8. Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

this story follows ari and dante as they go into their last year of high school and begin to contemplate their futures both together and in the world. sáenz really expands the cast of characters in this book as well as involves social issues and prejudices into the fabric of the story; while the first ari and dante novel was mainly focused on the love between them, this book seems to be more about how the world treats boys like ari and dante who love each other. the aids pandemic is a large part of this story as well as issues of racism and homophobia and how these issues affect all the characters in the story. i think this novel had some really beautiful and moving passages - there were some bits that made me cry like a baby - but as much as i loved some of it, i think it was at times a clumsy novel. it felt sometimes like it was trying to hard to be profound - and i get why it would want to try so hard. secrets of the universe is an immensely profound book, but it was profound because of its simplicity and its way of saying large things in little ways. i think waters of the world had some big shoes to fill, and because of that, it didn’t quite find its rhythm until halfway through the story it wanted to tell. it was still a beautiful story, but i don’t know if it will ever be as precious to me as the original ari and dante

7/10 i still enjoyed the experience

9. Dark Things I Adore by Katie Lattari

in 1988, tragedy strikes a previously peaceful and prestigious art camp in the woods of maine among a group of ambitious painters hoping to find inspiration for their next big work. in 2018, talented art student audra colfax invites her thesis professor max durant to her home in maine for a meticulously planned out weekend, dead set on revealing the dark secrets max has kept concealed for thirty years. i will be honest, i didn’t love this book. i was interested by it and it’s premise, but the way it’s written is vaguely reminiscent of wattpad originals which is a style im not personally fond of, audra and max’s first person perspectives were grating and repetitive to me until about the middle-end of the book where the thriller aspects of the novel really begin to kick in. the book’s other first person perspective - juniper, in 1988 - i actually really enjoyed. in fact, i found every 1988 chapter particularly engaging and worthwhile, but most of the 2018 chapters (from max and audra alike) fell flat and seemed over-emphasized to me. the last few chapters of the novel were pretty good, but the whole time i found myself thinking that this book needed some change in structure to liven up the actually very intriguing and meaningful story. this may be a strange thing to say, but i really think this book would make a movie even better than it’s source text.

6/10 i found myself wanting to know what happened more than i wanted to read it

just realized in october that i forgot to post this. here are my reads for this past summer - i had a fun time, hope you do too, in the changing weather.

#peach's summer book list #book rec list #book recs #i mean this from the bottom of my heart: my bad #it's actually really embarrassing i didn't post this earlier. i genuinely don't know why i didn't

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