#like i can remember some specific details that were particularly memorable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiruamon · 2 years

Text

Teacher-AU Part 3!

This time I would like to discuss among other things a fact from the first part more in detail! It is about the sealed memories of Oz's friends. Interestingly enough, they are not 100% locked away. Somebody must have messed up.;)

Since his old friends have returned to Spooky High, they keep having glimpses of memories of their former lives. It especially involves memories of events that they have already experienced once during their school days. The whole thing is usually triggered by certain memorable events, which were particularly important to the respective character, or by specific encounters. Like for example the first meeting between Amira, Brian and Vicky and some of their six popular classmates.;)(We're only talking about the first year of school at this point for now. That's why Cal is left out here for now, and we'll definitely come back to Zoe later, because she's a special case). Of course, at first it's extremely confusing for the characters when they experience such little flashbacks and have a feeling of déjà vu because of it. It's only as it becomes more noticeable and regular that Vicky, Brian, and Amira begin to talk about their strange memories, realizing that it wasn't just them.

In comparison, the rest of their classmates remain silent on the subject.

Whereas Polly most likely assumes that she is just on a trip when she has such flashbacks.

Vera, on the other hand, takes a more analytical approach, but is too suspicious to talk to anyone about it until she knows the cause.

Miranda may think it's a strange new confusion tactic by the air people.

Damien is extremely irritated every time it happens. Which means he compensates by arsoning and beating up some classmates until he feels better.

Scott, on the other hand, finds it rather funny and is probably the first one out of the group to say a word about these funny "dreams".

Liam. Well I think Liam will also be rather puzzled about it like Damien, but more like Vera will keep quiet about it and think about it in silence.

So now that we know that it is possible for old memories to leak out, some of you may be asking the question:

Can it happen that Oz appears in one of these memories?

The simple answer is no. But, as we all know, it's never that simple.

Oz's existence in the memories of his old friends and acquaintances is as if erased, although it is sometimes noticeable. For example, someone remembers that another person (Oz) was present at a certain event or conversation, but not who it was or what the person looked like or how the person's voice sounded.

The more the others remember, the more noticeable it becomes that there are strange gaps in their memories of these past lives.

Most from both groups can remember Coach during the first year. With the rest of the teachers it is much more difficult for them to remember if they were taught by them at that time, because they usually don't associate too strong memories with them. That's why no one notices that Teach is not the same teacher who used to teach them history.

However, at some point the color squad starts to wonder why they can't remember someone like Teach, who stands out from the mass of (faceless) teachers because of his endearing manner.

So what is the relationship between Oz and the individual members of the Color Squad?

Let's start with Vicky.;)

Of course, at the beginning he is mainly her teacher, which creates a certain distance. But it helps that Oz is quite engaged and, at least on the outside, clearly more self-confident and less shy in this role. Vicky is one of the students who has pretty quickly taken him up on his offer to come to him at any time with questions - even gladly during recess. Oz is always happy when Vicky asks him various questions or for tips on books that focus on certain historical topics in order to improve her presentation.

At some point, they happened to talk about novels in general and began to exchange opinions about their favorite works. Oz had already loved to talk to Vicky about novels in the past, especially those they had both read.

From that point on, Vicky would occasionally come up to him during break time if they happened to run into each other and would tell him excitedly about how she liked his last book recommendation and how far he had progressed in the book she recommended.

Next, we would have Brian.

Oz immediately scored points with his first lesson with Brian when he announced that he wouldn't hold it against anyone to take a nap in his class. All the better that Oz sticks to his words. Occasionally, however, Oz has woken Brian up. But only when he noticed that his sleepy friend had overheard the bell ringing for the end of class.

In case that Brian encounters Teach in the hallway while he carries around some bulky classroom materials, Brian will help him carry the stuff from point A to point B. Oz is extremely grateful for the kind help.

On a short walk, during break time outside on the grounds, he once found Brian reading a comic book by himself and approached him about it. In the process, they got to talking about their genre preferences in comics. Oz still remembers well how it was Brian who first explained to him what a comic book was and awakened in him his love for the medium in the first place. Similar to Vicky, Brian and Oz talk about the comics they read now and then. Oz just has to be careful from time to time not to say anything about comics that were released a few years later than the current time.

And since all good things come in threes, here comes Amira.

With Amira it is more complicated. In the past, the self-confident djinn was quick to take on the role of big sister to him, but this time she shows less interest in getting to know him. After all, he is just one of the teachers. And admittedly, she even finds it rather suspicious that his character traits make him stand out among the other teachers. She finds him just too nice - and not in a crazy way, as it is the case with Coach, for example, who "for the good of his students" throws crocodiles and other dangers at them - and therefore thinks it is just a facade. As a result, she becomes suspicious when she notices that Teach is often talking to her two friends. That's why she is usually neutral or sometimes even dismissive towards him.

The first real conversation between them took place when Amira collapsed at the party tree. Oz, who has made it a habit to stroll around the school grounds in the evening, checking the parties to see if there are any students who need help because they overdid it a little, is alerted to the unconscious Amira by someone in the upper grades. Of course, he doesn't hesitate and brings her to the unoccupied infirmary, where he takes care of her.

Probably it went off something like this:

A pained groan escaped her lips as she felt the dull pounding in her skull. Oh crap. Her head was throbbing and she felt exhausted. Still she couldn't manage to open her eyes. And she didn't want to. What had happened anyway? The party. She had been at the party at the old tree and... and... she had a total blackout! She must have overdone it. She would have preferred to keep her eyes closed longer and crawl even deeper under her covers. How had she gotten into her room in the first place? She frowned. Besides... there was this strange feeling of being watched. Maybe by Vicky? Or Brian? Maybe her friends had dragged her back.

However, when she finally convinced herself to open her eyes, she was surprised to find that she wasn't back at the shared apartment at all. Instead, she found herself in a strange room with dim lighting. The frame of the bed was made of metal and everything seemed a bit clinical. There was a faint smell of sanitizer in the air, but not as penetrating as in a hospital. Confused, she pushed the covers aside and a lukewarm hot water bottle fell next to her on the mattress while she sat up to get a better look.

Her eyes paused on a familiar figure. However, it was not the cheerful frankenstein monster or the stoic looking zombie as she had hoped. The figure was considerably taller and dressed in a tattered cloak, as it often was. Pitch black skin, white eyes that almost glowed a little in the dim light. Teach. "Ah. You're awake." For a brief moment, Teach's telepathic voice drove away the pounding in her head. Unfortunately, it didn't last. "How did I... ?", Amira somehow managed to bring out as she was still trying to grasp how to judge the situation she was in. "I carried you here," Teach explained in his usual friendly-sounding way, throwing a small smile at her. The little black things he had once introduced to them as phobias stared at her curiously. Creepy. "I hope you don't hold it against me too much that I didn't ask your permission before. But... you were unconscious. That's why I assumed it would be better to take you to the infirmary so you could rest here until you felt better." Oh. So that's where she was. Now that he mentioned it, she also noticed the cabinets that contained bandages and medications and were standing against the wall further to her left.

Okay. If all of this was true, then she was still on the school grounds. She hadn't been kidnapped by some crazy person. Probably... She wasn't quite sure yet, considering that she was currently here all alone with Teach, without anyone else knowing about it. Cause honestly? She didn't really trust him. Since the first day of class, he just seemed... way too nice for her liking. To her, the always and constantly friendly smile seemed put on. Like a facade behind which he hid something from everyone. Usually, the more the person tried to convince everyone of the opposite, the more sinister their secrets were. Either way, she found him suspicious.

"Coffee or tea?" Teach, who until just now had been standing by a small table with an electric kettle, held two steaming cups in his hands. Apparently he had just finished making both.

There! That's exactly what she meant! Suspiciously, Amira sat up a little straighter and narrowed her eyes skeptically. The hot water bottle came back to her mind, and her eyes wandered to it again briefly before turning back to her teacher. "O-oh. That was me. I... had heard once that fire elemental monsters prefer heat sources when they're not feeling well." Surprised, Amira noted that his voice sounded apologetic, for trying to help her? Maybe she should have stood up and told him she was going home to get away from the whole situation. Maybe she should have refused his earlier offer. But damn she still felt a little dizzy. And heavens! She could really use a cup of coffee to feel better. Amira decided to put her concerns aside at least for a moment. If worst came to worst, she could always figure something out. Besides... if Teach hadn't done anything weird so far, maybe it would stay that way.

"... It's okay." she mumbled therefore, before continuing with a sigh "Coffee sounds good." Teach who had actually seemed a bit insecure until just now, which she found interesting, found his smile back, even if it didn't seem quite as exuberant as before. "Here you go, then." Carefully, he stepped up to her bedside and handed her a floral patterned red cup that gave off the lovely scent of coffee. Without hesitating any longer, Amira took a hearty sip. Hah, that felt good. Teach, meanwhile, had sat down on a chair that stood at a little distance from her bed. With both of his hands he held a yellow, white striped cup and turned it slightly back and forth between his fingers.

It still felt somewhat strange to be alone in a room with Teach. Especially since neither of them said anything. "Do you do this kind of thing often?", maybe she would become wiser about him when she found out more about her teacher. Teach, who had just taken a sip from his own cup - at least that's what Amira assumed, it was hard to tell if someone without a mouth was really drinking - lowered the cup again and looked at her questioningly. It looked like he didn't understand what she was trying to say. "I mean taking care of students who aren't doing well and bringing them here." Now he appeared to understand. Teach took a hand from his cup and let it wander to the back of his neck. It seemed a bit like he was embarrassed. Oddly enough, the gesture felt familiar, even if she couldn't have said why. "Sometimes. If I notice." "That's pretty strange," at least she thought it was strange. Most teachers wouldn't even bother with something like that during class time, let alone on their free time. "You think so?" "Don't you?" she just didn't understand him. Why would anyone willingly do something like that? "Honestly, do you really care?" she decided to just ask what was on her mind. That way she could observe Teach's reaction to such a direct question. "Of course it worries me when one of my students isn't feeling well." The answer had come faster than she had expected. And without the slightest hesitation. Teach looked at her in genuine surprise. Almost as if he could hardly believe she was asking him such a question. Strangely, Teach's reaction struck her as sincere. Had... she perhaps misjudged him the whole time? She could have sworn that such good monsters as her friends could hardly exist twice.

So... was Teach just a little too good-natured and weird in that regard after all? "I know I'm probably meddling... too much, but still... " Huh? What was coming next? "Amira? May I give you some advice?" Questioningly, the djinn raised one of her dark eyebrows. Was Teach going to give her a lecture now? Or was this some older-person-sharing-their-life-wisdom-with-younger-person thing? "Do I have much of a choice?" she asked pondering, which made her teacher smirk.

"Not really," he confessed. His voice sounded amused, almost a bit cheeky. Amira liked that. It made him sound more like a real person than normally. "But it's up to you what you make of it, of course," Teach added more kindly.

"All right. Out with it." There was no harm in listening to it, after all. Teach looked as if he was pleased with her answer. "To tell you the truth, those words aren't directly mine. But a good friend... she once said to me... It's good to have fun and test your limits. But better than that is to have fun and know when you've reached your limits and should take a step back. So that a nice experience doesn't turn into one that you regret later on." Teach spoke the words calmly as usual, but still it seemed to Amira that he was somewhere else with his mind right now. Maybe he was thinking about that moment in his past when that friend he was talking about had said those words to him? "You know, I also want you to fully enjoy this time. I want you to collect memories you'll be happy to think back on one day without regretting anything." Now he looked directly at her again.

Amira felt a sensation that she couldn't put her finger on. It was strange. It seemed to her that she had heard this advice before, without being able to remember when or where exactly. She gave up thinking about it as her headache begged for her attention again. When she thought about her current situation, the advice didn't seem so stupid to her.

"Sounds like your friend has a good idea of what she's talking about," she replied half-jokingly, allowing a small smile to creep onto her face before taking another sip of hot coffee. A soft laugh echoed in her head as soon as she had uttered the words. Only... somehow it sounded a little sad. There was something sentimental in Teach's eyes as he looked over at the window. Maybe a little pain, too? She didn't know him well enough to pinpoint it. And it was even more difficult since he usually looked so cheerful.

"Mmm. She taught me alot about how the world works... " Amira felt it would be better not to probe further as to where this person was now. She had a vague suspicion that the person Teach was talking about might not be part of his life anymore. In whatever way.

The patter of feet sounded from the hallway outside. The door was rushed open and both Amira and Teach turned their heads to the monster that had just burst into their conversation. Vicky stood there quite out of breath. "Amira! I was so worried!" she hurriedly came running into the room, past Teach and over to her at the bedside, where she immediately fell around her neck. After some delay, Brian came shuffling into the room. Even though he kept a more leisurely pace, Amira could tell by the subtle way his mouth twisted that he, too, was worried about her. However, seeing her safe and sound now seemed to help him relax. While Vicky was still half strangling her with her affection and her arms, which were strong for such a little girl, Brian approached Teach's side and handed him a note he was holding. "Thanks for letting us know Teach." Their teacher took it and shook his head just slightly. "Don't. I was sure you would want to know."

Huh, Teach had brought them both here? But when? How? At last Vicky loosened her grip a bit and threw Brian and her teacher a beaming smile before looking to Amira again.

"One of Teach's little friends found us and gave us a note saying we could find you here!", Vicky excitedly explained to her. "I didn't even know they could detach from his body!" she looked over at Teach almost excitedly. He just smiled. "It is possible. But I rarely resort to that option," carefully Teach raised himself up from his seat now. "Stay until you are better," this time he directed his words back to Amira. "I think you are in good hands now. So I will take my leave. Take good care of yourselves on your way home," he gave them all a friendly smile and was already about to go. "Teach!", Amira heard herself call out before as he reached the door frame. He looked back over his shoulder at her. Curious. Huff... okay. "Thanks for today." A smile flitted across his eyes. "Anytime." Amira had the feeling that this time he had aimed his words only at her. He waved at them again, and in the next moment he disappeared silently out of their sight.

After that day, Amira felt like she could trust Teach and was more open towards him. From this point on it also happens more often that his three friends visit Oz together to just chat with him or to ask him a question or two.

Here some general facts about the color squad and how they stand to Oz after this event:

Sometimes a strange sense of familiarity or nostalgia comes over his old friends/acquaintances when they talk or hang out with him

The color squad often involves him → once they wanted to convince him to go out into the city more to meet others or date someone until they find out he can't leave the school grounds

They thought it was just a joke at first until they try to take him out beyond the grounds and he shows them that it's not possible for him to leave the grounds beyond a certain distance

Oz is constantly torn in his feelings → on the one hand he is infinitely grateful that his friends are alive again and talk to him, but at the same time he still feels alone and rootless because they can't remember him and there seems to be a distance between them due to the teacher and student relationship even if it becomes better over time

On the one hand he still hopes that someday someone will say his name, but Oz also knows how unlikely this is and is afraid that the others will leave him behind again after their graduation without ever realizing what kind of connection they once had with each other if he does nothing about it

When the color squad invites Teach to lunch at their table and they are together as a group of four, it feels familiar and right to all of them as if an empty space has been filled → More and more often, they forget the fact that Teach is older than they are

Oz would love to have a field trip with his class from time to time, but unfortunately this is not possible because he can't leave the grounds → instead, he hosts an astronomy lesson on the sports field one evening (where participation is voluntary)

The color squad thinks about how to realize Teach's wish and come up with the idea of holding a field trip via video call or a similar method so that Oz can instruct and teach them from school while they are on the field trip → as expected, the field trip gets pretty chaotic, but it's still an experience they can look back on with a laugh in the end

Haha, that was a whole lot this time! Honestly, I wasn't quite sure how I pictured Amira and Teach's relationship before, but as I thought about it more, one or two things came to my mind. And then when I tried to describe it, it struck me that it wasn't so easy to explain via a simple description. So I did it in the form of a little story. I hope this doesn't bother anyone too much?;)

#monster prom au #monster prom oz #teacher au #oz yellow #character death #no permanent death #reincarnation #oz becomes a teacher in spooky high #jumping between calling him Teach and Oz because yeah #going deeper into relationship with the color squad #when Oz says he worries about his students it's like him saying that he cares about his friends

19 notes · View notes

vonkarma2 · 1 year

Note

4 + 14 + 23 + 27 + 34?!

4. How did you find the name for a certain character?

I have the same process pretty much all the time I feel bad bc this is such a fun question or it would be 😞 no ones named after anyone or like has their name chosen based on the meaning actively I just like look up names for the place and time period and pick whichever I think fit the character or I already have a name in mind when I make them. I’m like wondering if there were any exceptions. Oh I did want my character Adam’s name to sound like a pseudonym instead of a regular name right bc he’s an SCP agent type like mysterious or whatever. So I used a stage name generator to find out his last name (Adam I just liked how it sounded + the fact that it was biblical). I also like the last name King bc he is also in a position of authority over the other characters at times so it makes sense I guess.

14.Which OC/s do you relate to the most?

Kind of embarrassing to answer lol like this has to be at least a little personal. I like actively try to make OCs different from myself so I’m not just projecting onto them yk. Like that would be first of all embarrassing LMAO but second of all it it wouldn’t be very interesting to explore I feel like. In my opinion it’s better to start with something you can understand, but like have layers of complexity that you don’t relate to at all or whatever. I don’t really know. But to answer the question I think I relate to like the 3 main OCs of Rocio Angel and Cirillo the most :P maybe Lucia as well.

23. Have you ever seen something/someone that looks like one of your characters IRL? What was it like?

I actually haven’t that I can remember like not particularly. I have seen some people sometime where I was like ok I should draw a character’s hair or eyes or etc more like them. Like bc I was trying to draw them a certain way but wasn’t 100 sure how but I’d see someone who looked like them irl and I was like ok ok like that. Ofc Ive seen people with some shared traits, but no one who really looked exactly the same, no one where like I was like omg it’s like seeing them irl yk.

In terms of seeing people irl that remind me of them though like vibes wise what I have seen is people whose clothing really reminded me of like certain characters. Like not that they would actually wear the same thing because I don’t live in a fantasy world in the 1940s but like that remind me of their personality like that they would wear it yk. One time I was like walking around in a city and saw like 10 people with really nice outfits trying to memorize them all to write them down and draw ocs in them later. I ended up doing one of them but I didn’t like how it turned out 😔

27. What's the nicest thing someone has ever said about an OC/OCs?

This question is so embarrassing I have to admit I remember specific nice things people have said about OCs. I do remember specific nice things people have said though. It is hard to pick like 1 nicest thing. You saying Rocio had autism swag is up there. My irl cousin said a bunch of REALLY nice stuff a while ago she likes reading so it was nice to see her reaction. But like every time anyone has said anything like they like a character’s personality or design or storyline or anything it’s really nice I definitely appreciate it and I will remember it forever <3

34. What scene that you've written/imagined is your favorite?

That’s a good question. I literally don’t know at all. Bc I don’t have like all the details down for most of the scenes I’m thinking so all the ones I’ve like thought abt vividly just have a cool visual to go with them and that’s abt it. That makes it sound shallow it’s not that it’s just like I like the emotion of the scene and the idea behind it but not really any of the specifics you know. So I feel like if I tried to pick one it wouldn’t be like a nuanced pick it wouldn’t be like because it develops the character in this way yk it’d be like bc it’s the climactic scene where this character almost dies and it’s so cool or something like that. Does that even make sense.

Ok time to actually answer the question. I wish I had thought of more scenes that like show the dynamics between characters that I like bc my plan with that was to write it in wherever it felt intuitive yk. Like check up on the chastcters’ emotional states to see how they’re reacting to plot events. I just realized as writing this I think I want to have Tiago live for longer. Ok ignore that thats not important ummm I think the only scene I’ve really thought much about along those lines is the one where Cirillo and Laura meet again after a long time. I like the conflict there I like the characters a lot and I think it has the potential to be a very satisfying scene <3. Also maybe like denouement stuff where Rocio is like hi getting back from thr underworld was so annoying anyway sorry for almost ruining your lives and getting you killed. As you can see I haven’t really developed that part of the story yet but I think it’d be cool to see as well

#Im going to have to change Gawain’s name #because I have an active investment in like the knight of the round table gawain now 😞#<Im not actually going to #also this reminded me I need to start putting my art into a folder #I always have to re export them from procreate I can never find the ones I need 😭#also I might write something with Rocio and Yiming of all people lol #I think it’d be an interesting change of pace #also also maybe develop the plot line with the assassins in a little more depth?#my main thoughts rn are to make everything more complex #+ just have there be more going on #Lucia and Joanna subplot as well esp since it’s been like revamped #I like it though I think it gives Lucia more to do #only problem is figuring out her character development 😔#well whatever I’ll get to it for sure #wow thats a lot ok anyway thanks again for sending this in :)#my ocs

2 notes · View notes

bmebookmyessay · 2 months

Text

Techniques That Absolutely Work For Solving Math Word Problems

Math word problems can often feel like a daunting challenge, causing anxiety and frustration among students. Whether you're tackling algebra, geometry, or calculus, these problems require more than just rote memorization of formulas—they demand critical thinking and problem-solving skills. However, with the right techniques, you can become a proficient math word problem solver and tackle even the most complex equations with confidence. In this blog post, we'll explore some tried-and-tested strategies that absolutely work for mastering math word problems.

Understand The Problem: The first step in solving any math word problem is to thoroughly understand what it's asking. Read the problem carefully, identifying key information, variables, and what needs to be solved. Highlight or jot down important details to keep track of them.

Translate Words into Math: Many students struggle with translating words into mathematical expressions. Break down the problem into smaller parts and assign variables to unknown quantities. Use keywords like "sum," "difference," "product," and "quotient" to determine the operation needed.

Draw Diagrams Or Visualize: Sometimes, a visual representation of the problem can provide valuable insights. Draw diagrams, graphs, or charts to illustrate the problem and aid in understanding. Visualizing the problem can often lead to new perspectives and solutions.

Use Real-Life Examples: Math word problems are often based on real-life scenarios. Relate the problem to your own experiences or interests to make it more relatable. This can help in understanding the context and finding practical solutions.

Identify Patterns Aand Formulas: Many math word problems follow specific patterns or can be solved using common formulas. Familiarize yourself with these patterns and formulas relevant to the topic you're studying. Recognizing these patterns can streamline the problem-solving process.

Work Backwards: In some cases, it's easier to work backwards from the solution to the problem. Start with the answer and see if you can reverse-engineer the steps needed to arrive at that solution. This approach can be particularly useful for complex problems.

Break It Down: If a problem seems overwhelming, break it down into smaller, more manageable parts. Solve each part separately and then integrate the solutions to find the overall answer. This can prevent you from feeling overwhelmed and help you stay focused.

Practice Regularly: Like any skill, mastering math word problems requires practice. Set aside time regularly to work on different types of problems. Practice reinforces your understanding of concepts and improves your problem-solving abilities.

Seek Help When Needed: Don't hesitate to seek help if you're stuck on a problem. Reach out to your teacher, classmates, or online resources for assistance. Services like math assignment help and math homework help are available to provide personalized support and guidance.

Review And Reflect: After solving a problem, take the time to review your solution and reflect on your approach. Did you use the most efficient method? Were there alternative strategies you could have employed? Learning from your mistakes and successes is key to continuous improvement.

In conclusion, mastering math word problems is achievable with the right techniques and mindset. By understanding the problem, translating words into math, using visualization, and practicing regularly, you can become a confident math word problem solver. Remember to seek help when needed and to review and reflect on your solutions. With determination and perseverance, you'll be able to tackle any math word problem that comes your way.

If you're struggling with math assignments or need assistance with math homework, consider leveraging assignment writing service like BookMyEssay. Their expert tutors can provide personalized support to help you overcome challenges and succeed in your math studies. Don't let math word problems intimidate you—embrace these techniques and watch your problem-solving skills soar!

#BookMyEssay #MathMastery #ProblemSolvingPro #MathGeniusTips #MathWordWizards #SolveWithTechniques #MathMagic #WordProblemWisdom #CrackTheMathCode #MathSkills #ProblemSolvingPower

0 notes

thescrapbookingscientist · 1 year

Photo

Biweekly Media Roundup

- Trigun (Anime) - Still obsessing over Trigun and Knives specifically. Can’t believe how much I like this patronizing genocidal asshole. That’s good characterization baby.

- Lackadaisy (Webseries) - I don’t have anything interesting to say about this one, just that it was a very well made and pretty intro to what I remember being a pretty compelling web series. The designs of the cats and how much personality each exudes is incredible.

- The Super Mario Bros Movie (Movie) - The reviews of this seem pretty mixed, but personally I liked it quite a bit. No, it’s not some mind blowing cinematic masterpiece, but for what it is, a kid friendly movie introducing the basic Mario story, it’s honestly much better than I was expecting-especially considering Illuminations previous output. You can tell it’s made by people who love the series, not only with the level of references but also in just the details of how the characters move or how the backgrounds and world are rendered. It’s quite pretty, with the character models looking adorable and the backgrounds full of color. Bowser was a standout of course, both in Jack Blacks vocal performance and the way they incorporated his mannerisms into the character model. I loved the brothers relationship and how affectionate they were with each other. It also had a few pretty solid jokes. I do wish it had been longer, as the scenes went by too fast for any emotional moment to take root, but again if you think of it as a set up of what’s bound to be a franchise of Galaxy, Luigi’s Mansion, or Odessy sequels, then it’s a pretty good “first episode” so to speak.

- Bocchi the Rock (Anime) - My first venture into binging all the yuri-esque shows I missed from last year, Bocchi was indeed pretty solid. They made the protagonist uncomfortably relatable in her brand of social awkwardness which made for some emotional moments as well as big oof jokes. The cut away gags experimenting with different animation were fun, I did quite like the music and performances, and the character dynamics were pretty good, I’ll watch a 2nd season if it gets one. I’m not sure I’d go as far as calling it anime of the year, the ending didn’t really leave off like a complete story and plot wise it didn’t really have much going on, but as a nice slice of life comedy it’s definitely worth the watch. As a character Bocchi is great, but hopefully a s2 will explore a bit more of the other band members, who weren’t generic characters by any means but didn’t really get much screentime.

- Dr, Stone (Anime) - Hey we are back! New guy seems fun, I still adore Senku as a protagonist, and I’m interested to see how they plan to balance so many characters moving forward. Hope we see more flashbacks of the fantastic dad/son relationship, it’s honestly one of my favorites from any media I’ve seen.

- Buddy Daddies (Anime) - While the ending surprised me in it’s conclusively (I did not expect a future epilogue to be canonized) overall I’d say it was a good decision. I’d say this was a solid C+, B-, it was good at being the cute little parenting comedy it wanted to be with some fun moments and solid animation but wasn’t particularly memorable in terms of plot or characters-like, I like all the leads, but I don’t see them topping any end of the year favorite lists. I will say that I’m surprised at how platonic they kept the fathers, I hadn’t expected them to get together but I did expect a lot more ship bait than we got. They work fine as a ship but the series really did focus a lot more on the child rearing aspects which came as a surprise considering how often marketing wants to tease mlm relationships for profit. I guess I appreciate it as I prefer giving visibility to more platonic relationships and unusual family structures to queerbaiting with no delivery but also there’s so few genuinely good mlm anime that it would’ve been nice for them to just have them be a couple. I did have a fun time with this, I’d recommend it if you are into the raising children genre.

- Campfire Cooking in Another World (Anime) - Follow some people who had suggested this as a fun, relaxing little cooking anime and yeah, that checks out so far. Just a very cute and wholesome little feel good series about a man feeding his giant God level talking dog and baby slime child-As a domestic monster appreciator this is checking my boxes pretty well.

- The Locked Tomb Series (Books) - Almost done with Gideon the Ninth, once again I’m really enjoying these characters and their dynamics, as well as the general space necromancy mystery plotline. I’m listening to the audiobook at the moment, but I’ll likely buy the physical copies as there are a lot of excellent quotes in here that I would like easier access to revisit. Anyway, Gideon and Harrow are the toxic co-dependent love hate lesbian ship I’ve needed in my life since my catradora hyperfixation.

- Resident Evil 4 (Video Game) - Played till around chapter 6 so far with my friends and honestly, it’s really good. They keep all the fun stuff from the original but make it high res, I love seeing Leon and Ada and Luis and the Merchant again. It’s hard to get everyone together to play but I’m excited about getting to experience it again, got some great childhood memories of hanging with the girls and laughing at all the strange zombie noises they chose to include.

As usual I’m also keeping up with The Greatest Estate Developer, Land of the Lustrous, The Vampire Dies In No Time, and The S Classes that I raised.

Listening to: Nothing is Going Right by Meiyo, Eat Your Young by Hozier, Achilles Come Down cover by Annapantsu, Stalker’s Tango by Autoheart, Ship in a Bottle by fin, I Hate Everything But You and I’ve Always Never Believed in You from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, They’re Only Human from the Death Note Musical, Counting Bodies Like Sheep by A Perfect Circle, Kickback by Kenshi Yonezu, My Kind by Hilary Duff, Hallelujah cover by Pentatonix

#weekly roundup #My posts

1 note · View note

doshmanziari · 2 years

Text

Dark Souls 3: “More of the Same”

In terms of its public approval and situating, and relative to the first and second entries, Dark Souls 3 seems to have ever been in a curious place. Just two month’s after its release, I authored a very small essay, “What to say about Dark Souls 3?”, the very title of which implies that there just might not be a whole lot to say. But, six years later, I can’t help feeling that it really is the most fascinating, the most imaginatively spurring, of the bunch. This is a feeling which must balance against my first few playthroughs of the game being neither particularly memorable nor surprising. It is also a feeling which I do not think would exist if I weren’t compelled, by a reorientation of interests, to re-view Dark Souls 3 through various psychological, spiritual, and mythological contexts -- meaning, in part, that for those first few playthroughs I had not only differing expectations but also interpretative tools.

This has put my critical sensibilities here in an equally curious place. I understand what people mean when they coolly describe Dark Souls 3 as “more of the same”; but emphasizing mechanical novelty as the qualitative criterion simply isn’t how I approach this game anymore, even though I reject the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” mentality pervading videogame culture and am similarly unmoved by worship of the almighty Polish. This fixation on novelty presents an interesting conundrum. It’s such a sensible and coherent expectation -- we want a new thing to be new in ways exceeding its release date! -- yet it is also so commonly in the service of industries which act as restless conveyor belts of “experiences” and tend to undermine conservational or traditional principles, or devalue subtlety. One might remember, for example, how many journalistic outlets began to cast 2D videogames as contemptibly passé once 3D was identified as the hot new thing.

Here’s another problem: interpretations of novelty vary; and, depending upon one’s frame of reference, novelty can seem over- or under-interpreted. People who have spent hundreds of hours with FromSoftware’s games are likely able to detail what mechanically separates Bloodborne from Dark Souls 3; but, for most people who reside outside of this time-sink, the two will probably not appear to be that visibly different. Both of these viewpoints are what I would call experientially legitimate. One does not cancel out the other. Let us also not forget that Dark Souls 2 offered a number of tweaks, construable as novelties, and inspired a significant (but not majority) outcry. Novelty is not some dependably positive or negative attribute.

Let’s get a little more specific. Dark Souls has always had a remarkable enthusiasm on its side. It remains one of the most significant videogames of the 2010s (personally, I would go so far as to say it is one of the most significant artworks of this century). The constitution of this enthusiasm is such that, when people discuss the Souls games, Dark Souls is implicitly the central and even formative figure, almost as if it were a small-scale variant of the literary or musical sentiment that everything after some canonical high-water mark been “so much noise” or simply variations on a maximally archetypal work (of course, Dark Souls is itself a rearrangement of very old things). On the flip side, the responses to Dark Souls 2 have largely developed as self-aware reappraisals tending to take the form of “defenses.” In other words, much as it might sound counterintuitive, Dark Souls 2 has benefited precisely from its mixed responses (even though there continues to be basically no longform writing concerning its mythopoeic structure!). It has the ability to provoke discourse by its being designated as weird, incoherent, ugly -- essentially as marginalized.

Dark Souls 3, then, is... well, it’s the third Dark Souls game. It is an obvious “return to form” after the sequel. It is post-Bloodborne, which had the upper hand by being FromSoftware’s first venture on newer technology (I cannot stress enough how stunningly, almost overwhelmingly, amazing Bloodborne looked to me when I first played it) and their shift to faster action. It does little to inspire controversy, besides being especially hard to narratively put together, which has only hardened the opinion (one that I once held!) that its returning figures and iconography are merely chintzy fan-service. In some ways, the whole situation conforms to the trend of a series having some relatively experimental sequel and then “correcting course” by bringing the third entry closer to the first, or just appearing to take less creative risks. Given all this, it’s unsurprising that Dark Souls 3 may not inspire much more than a sort of dulled appreciation of craft, refinement, technical solidity.

Not that it somehow has to, as if we were all beholden to a sort of critical imperative, but it’s hard to imagine how this situation might change. Dark Souls 3 is simply too conspicuously well-made, too asset-endowed, for it to be treated as an underdog without the effort looking pathetic. Moreover, its world design has been dragged into the persistent dichotomy of linearity vs. non-linearity. Although Dark Souls 3′s type of linearity is a contextual virtue, further concretizing the game’s eschatological emphases, it is often slighted -- I cannot count how many times I have seen it written that the game is fine in spite of the linearity --, as if the game were lacking something from the first without which it is crippled. Interestingly, the relative linearity of Dark Souls 3 is a kind of novelty for the trilogy -- and it would, by association, condemn Demon’s Souls too! --, but the dichotomy’s prescriptivism insists on an inherent difference of value, presumably in part because non-linearity extends play-time and thereby offers more “content.” The other issue with this either/or insistence, as there tends to be with assessments of Dark Souls 2′s in-flux manner, is that it excludes surprising and fecund alternate analyses, such as one by Mike Stenbæk which discerns a tripartite and suggestively rich assembly of Lothric’s domains.

This isn’t all I want to say on the matter, but it’ll do for now. I’d like to conclude this brief exploration by sharing some words from a friend expressing his viewpoint:

DS3 was actually my favorite of the trilogy. DS1's combat didn't play well with my sense of timing, and I found the lag between input and move execution off-putting. Nevertheless I did eventually beat it. I have no idea where the hell I'm going in DS2, so I've never finished it. Most FROM games do a good job of letting you do whatever at the start, and you can pick your threads back up when you exhaust one direction. DS2 was just — where am i and where am i going and I don't remember why I care except to progress.

Bloodborne was a revelation because it took the DS combat and aligned input and output better. By which I mean, you press a button and you get a move rather than press a button and anticipate. BB was my "Ah ha, now I get it" moment. I didn't dislike that DS1 was hard. I disliked the way that it was hard. Which brings us to DS3, which takes some of the mechanical learnings of BB and marries them to DS. And its environments were crafted in such a way that I could move through without getting super duper lost.

I think that having a starting point to understand the spirit of the games makes the others intelligible too. If it takes a linear/action experience like BB/DS3 to show me what the Soulsborne games do best, I'm more likely to seek that aesthetic in experiences that I enjoy less naturally. Well, "more linear," I should say. All of them give you different ways to approach exploration.

#dark souls 3 #DARK SOULS #soulsborne #dark souls 2

59 notes · View notes

nejibaby · 3 years

Text

Deja Vu

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: Hyuga Hiashi does not approve of your relationship with Neji.

implied established relationship. implied that neji has plans marrying.

Word Count: 2.8k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: gotta say it started out cute but then bam angst sjdjdens i’m sorry i’m dramatic sumtyms 🤧 please let me know your thoughts 🥺

The Sharingan never forgets.

That’s among one of the few things that’s drilled into your mind as a child born in the Uchiha clan. Before you had even awakened your Sharingan, your late brother, Shishui, had already taught you this.

At a young age, you’ve always thought it was a blessing, especially to a shinobi like you. With the ability of the Sharingan to discern movements and to retain its information better than any other dojutsu, it enables you to progress faster than children your age.

Outside the shinobi life, however, it’s not really that useful, so it’s expected for you not to activate it at all. You don’t need to remember minor details of everyday life after all. But on some of your days off — on special days — although very rarely, you unconsciously activate your Sharingan when you’re with Neji.

It goes without saying that before the war, you’ve already gained quite a bit of control over the use of the Sharingan. You’re able to activate and deactivate it at will, although sometimes your emotions get the better of you and it messes your control. After the war, however, you’ve become adept at controlling both your emotions and your Sharingan, maybe even better than Sasuke.

But whenever Neji surprises you with affectionate gestures, you get so overwhelmed that you just can't control your body, and by extension, your dojutsu too.

No matter how hard you try, you’re unable to stop the blood rushing to your face. You’re unable to calm the violent thumping of your heart. You’re unable to get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’re unable to prevent the Sharingan from activating. Especially on the rare occasions that he kisses the back of your hand tenderly after he walks you home, or when he kisses your lips before he leaves for a mission.

Neji isn’t good at romantic gestures, and so he keeps it to a bare minimum. But when he does these things, it always takes you by surprise.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he likes your cute reactions to his unpredictable acts. There’s always this short moment where your mind goes blank and your Sharingan manifests itself. This reassures him of your feelings for him because he knows he’s the only one who’ll be able to pull such a reaction from you. Not that he’s ever doubted you. You’ve always been so vocal about your feelings for him, after all.

On the flip side, while it embarrasses you that you can’t control your Sharingan when you’re with Neji, you like the way they activate themselves at those moments, as they’re able to help you remember the details of its aftermath — like the way Neji would always look down on the floor first before he meets your eyes, his cheeks tinted pink, and with the slightest upturn of his lips, almost as if he, himself, wasn’t expecting the onslaught of emotions that was brought about by his own actions. In mere seconds, you have all these memorized before he pulls away, and you play it over and over again in your mind until you’re branded with a new memory.

But the Sharingan is a curse as much as it is a blessing.

It’s a curse because it reminds you of the cruelty of the world. It doesn’t allow you to forget the scene of the Uchiha clan district after the massacre, even after knowing the true reason why it had to be done. It lets you remember the way you almost lost Neji from the Ten Tails’ attack during the war in his attempt to protect Naruto and Hinata.

And when Sasuke implanted Shisui’s eye to you, which he retrieved from Danzo before he annihilated him, the Sharingan lets you relive all his memories and experiences, and it paints you a picture of how unfair the world actually is, even more so to an Uchiha like you.

The unfair reality is further proven by an unexpected knock on your door a couple of weeks ago.

Hiashi. Hyuga Hiashi. The head of the Hyuga clan. Neji’s uncle.

He came to you with a deal, a proposition of sorts, but really it was just a threat in disguise as an offer.

“Leave Neji or else I’ll make sure he won’t be able to break free from his cage” is what he basically implied.

But to be precise, his words were, “The Hyuga clan is considering Neji to be the next heir, which would result in abolition of the main and branch family system altogether. Naturally, if he becomes the head of the clan, his curse seal will be removed, along with all the other branch family members’. However, there’s no telling if there’s going to be a change if he doesn’t get the position.

“You might have been keeping your relationship with him on the down-low, but the elders of the Hyuga clan know of it.

“To put it bluntly, we do not wish to be associated with the Uchiha in any way — so much that even disowning Neji has been put out there as an option, just in case — especially after what Sasuke pulled off after defeating the goddess.

“Moreover, if you were to bear a child together, there’s no telling what will happen to their kekkei genkai. It would be ideal to have him marry into the clan and follow tradition in order to preserve the Byakugan.

“I suppose you know where I’m going with this. It would be in his best interest if you call off whatever you have with him. Although this wouldn’t be a deal if there is nothing in it for you, right? Supposing Neji’s bright future is not enough for you, we are willing to arrange allowances of sorts.”

But before he could spout anything more, you cut him off by asking, “Does he know about this?”

“Not yet. But we’ll let him know soon enough.”

“Don’t. Keep it that way. I’ll handle this,” you told him, not caring if you didn’t sound respectful to a prominent figure such as himself. “I don’t need anything from your clan. All I want and need is for Neji to live a life that he deserves; a life that he was robbed off.”

Hiashi glared at you, offended by your words, but he didn't comment on it. Rather, he stared you down. His hardened expression morphing into suspicion the longer he looked at you; clearly he didn’t trust you. “How will you handle it?”

The only response he got from you is an intense stare with your Sharingan, and that alone was enough for him.

It’s frustrating to not have a choice, even when it comes to love, but in hindsight, you should’ve expected this. For all the troubles your ancestors caused in the past, it’s only natural for you to be this unfortunate.

Whatever blessing the Uchihas receive, it’s always paired with some type of misery. That’s just how it is, that’s how it would probably always be.

There’s no denying that in the end, it always, always hurts. But then again, you’re no stranger to pain and loss. And so is Neji. So surely, this would be for the best, at least that’s what you tell yourself over and over again in hopes that it will strengthen your resolve.

After all, Neji deserves a life where he doesn’t have to fear dying by the hands of the main branch family. He deserves a life where he can make choices of his own, without being tied down by his curse seal or his clan in general. And if leaving him means he’ll have all this and more, so be it.

As much as it is painful, it is hard, partly because of your waning resolve but especially because it’s Neji, who’s known for being an awfully perceptive shinobi. He’s almost never caught off guard, all the more when he’s with you, as he’s always keen on keeping you safe. Hence, you have to be meticulous and methodical.

The Sharingan’s ability to cast genjutsu is particularly harder to use against Hyugas due to their ability to see and sense the chakra concentrating by the eyes, enabling them to counter or avoid it entirely. Shisui’s Kotoamatsukami technique would’ve been quite useful, except you’re unable to use it yet because of the events prior to the war. Thus, you’ll have to rely on your own skills.

If timed right and casted properly, the genjutsu of the Sharingan has the ability to remove memories. To be precise, it can trick his mind into “forgetting” memories. But with years and years of memories between you and Neji, you know that you’ll have to cast it over and over again before everything will be completely wiped out.

You take advantage of the moments where Neji gives you affection, as you deem it the most subtle way to cast genjutsu on him without suspicion.

Although you have to admit, in the beginning you’ve been selfish, only removing memories of you and him that weren’t important — like the times he would accompany you in doing mundane tasks, or the times you both just lounge around after tiring missions. And because those are only minor memories, Neji is oblivious to the loss.

It gets exceptionally harder to cast the genjutsu once you’ve started erasing the major events in your relationship — the first date, the first kiss, the first time he held your hand, and the first time he introduced you as the love of his life. Until eventually, the affectionate acts dwindle down, and the only way you can use the Sharingan around him is when you ask him to train with you.

It’s only natural that the longer this goes on, the further you drift apart, and the more you lose him.

And it’s scary and painful because unlike Sasuke, Konoha has always been your home, but more specifically because of Neji. In fact, you can argue that Neji has always felt like home more than the village itself. You can walk the streets of Konoha but all it will ever scream is Neji’s name, and all it will ever show you is the memories you shared with him on every corner of the place.

The fact that you have to walk the streets without him is terrifying and foreign, and the only way you can avoid it altogether is by taking more and more missions, either the ones involving far away places or high rank missions that require every single bit of your concentration. Sometimes you even tag along to Sasuke’s expeditions to escape not only Neji’s overwhelming presence in the village, but also the thoughts of him.

It’s tiring and it’s heavy. But you’ve accepted the fact that you’re going to carry alone the memories for the two of you.

But this doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, though they were quick to assume that things just didn’t work out between the two of you, and that you called your relationship off.

Ino is the first person to voice out her concern and her curiosity as she claimed it’s weird not seeing you hang out with Neji anymore.

“That’s just how it is, I suppose,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant about everything despite the ache in your chest and the slight quiver of your voice.

She doesn’t comment further, thinking you probably didn’t want to talk about it.

But one day, when the whole clique — except for you and Sasuke — was hanging out, Ino can tell there was something wrong when Sakura asked if Neji remembered the time when you almost fell off a tree but he was there to catch you, and he furrowed his brows, saying he doesn’t recall that at all.

Break up or not, it’s highly unlikely for Neji to forget. Regardless of how minor something is, he always seems to remember them, especially when it involves you. And while he could’ve just been deflecting, there would’ve been no point in him denying that he remembers that occasion. Besides, Neji is blatantly honest, it’s one thing that you can count on when it comes to him, so really, how come he couldn’t remember that scenario at all?

This prompted Ino to observe Neji further out of concern and suspicion. She’d often find herself casually mentioning you and the feats you’ve both been through, but time and time again, Neji would tell her he has no recollection of those.

Ino wants to do something, anything really, just to clear her mind of suspicions, but she’s afraid she’s overstepping and interfering.

Neji takes notice of this. But even before that, he feels as though there’s something wrong, like something’s missing, but he doesn’t know what it is, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

After all, genjutsu might’ve tricked his mind, but his heart is an entirely different case.

It comes as a surprise to Ino when Neji comes to visit her in Yamanaka’s flower shop, looking at your favorite flowers without a clue why.

With Ino being the only one who seems to be willing to talk about you with him, it’s her who he seeks out. That, and he thinks the Yamanaka’s mind jutsus could be of help.

Ino doesn’t hesitate to help after Neji asks for it. When she goes to explore Neji’s consciousness, the first thing that she senses is your chakra. The further she prods, the more she realizes that it’s you who have been tampering with his memories. Then she realizes that it’s genjutsu that you’ve used on him, and she quickly breaks him out of it.

You know instantly when the jutsu breaks, feeling as if there was a string that snapped, and it immediately renders you frozen.

Fear grips you as you think about how Neji would feel after his memories come back. Will he be able to tell it was you who did it? Will he be mad at you? Will you tell him the reason why you did it? Will he even listen?

But if he’d stop talking to you altogether… then that would still be a win, right? Because that’s what Hiashi wants, that’s what his clan wants. That’s the only condition for them to give back Neji’s freedom.

But is it worth it?

Is this what you want?

Is this what Neji would want?

You’d like to believe so. And that’s the last thought you have as the rogue shinobi you’re supposed to capture stabs a kunai deep into your gut.

Of all the times the genjutsu could have broken, it just had to be when you were facing a highly skilled ninja. It’s once again a reminder that life is unfair, but this time, it’s your choices that lead you to this.

Deja vu. That’s how you feel when you wake up after escaping death’s clutches once again.

You blink once, twice, and then you look around your surroundings. You’re back in Konoha’s hospital, but this time you don’t wake up to a sleeping Neji by your bed.

You’re alone, and you feel hollow.

But then the door to your room opens abruptly and you almost jump in surprise.

Your breath hitches as you find the familiar lavender eyes staring back at you.

He calls your name to you softly, as if in a trance, and you feel your heart stutter at how perfect your name sounds on his lips.

Before you know it, he’s by your side, gently holding your hands. With an untrained eye, it would seem that his face is void of any emotion, but from your years of experience with him, you can clearly point out the sadness in his eyes.

You break the silence by saying, “I’m sorry, Neji.”

“For what exactly?”

You look away in shame. “For trying to erase your memories of us.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“Because…” you bite your lip. “That’s what’s best for you,” your voice cracks. “I’m not… We couldn’t— no — we shouldn’t be together.”

Neji gathers his thoughts, and it takes a couple of minutes before he speaks up. “The Sharingan may not be able to forget, but the Byakugan sees everything.”

And you understand what he’s trying to say: he can see through the lies you feed yourself.

Neji sighs, and it gets your attention. You peek at him, and only then have you noticed the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders are slightly slumped.

He has always looked composed no matter the situation, but now he’s different.

“You used to tell me everything,” he says dejectedly.

The way he says it and the way he pleads with his eyes breaks something in you and you spill everything to him.

You’re crying and stuttering and you aren’t sure if you’re making sense. But Neji always, always understands you.

And by the end of your piece, you’re wrapped securely in his arms.

“You’re alright,” he comforts you. “We’re alright.”

“But Hiashi—”

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

here’s some really good ideas sent on anon for part 3!

374 notes · View notes

queer-cosette · 3 years

Text

On Alya Salt

There are so many people who can speak more eloquently than I can about why relentlessly salting on a black teenage girl for a minor infraction is actually really horrible, so I’m not going to talk about that (although I am thinking it).

No, what I’m going to talk about is teenage friendship and how you people seem to have no idea how it worked.

I’m going to tell you a story. It takes place just after I turned 19 - so I wasn’t that much older than the main characters of Miraculous. The friend involved was 17 at the time.

Shortly before my 19th birthday, I got into an “altercation” with a couple of fellow students. Said altercation resulted in several instances of me crying on busses, a lot of support from my close friends (some of whom had had separate incidents with the same students), and one particularly memorable afternoon one of my friends recalls as the first time he actually saw me visibly upset. As a result, I formed a deep hatred for one of the girls involved in particular, a dislike that still persists to this day. Like, I hate this girl so much, if she said “hi” to me in passing - this being nearly two years later - I would deck her. That kind of dislike.

One of my friends - the relevant one - did not dislike this girl. She had never had an issue with her the way my other close friends had. In fact they often said hi to each other and shared popcorn at Game of Thrones viewing parties. I’m not into GoT so I was never forced to sit through an hour long episode pretending not to hate the girl’s guts. In fact, since we were on different courses and only shared a common room, which was large enough that we could sit on opposite ends of it and not actually be able to see each other, I never had to interact with her if I didn’t want to. And I really didn’t want to.

(So, not all that different to Marinette vs Lila, right? You following me?)

One time the girl I hated came up in conversation; my friend was telling me who had been at the latest GoT viewing party as we walked through a supermarket: “...and I think [name] was there too... yeah, we shared popcorn.”

“Oh, [name]?” I replied. “I can’t stand her, she’s such a bitch.”

My friend shrugged and pointed to a jumbo bag of vegetarian marshmallows. “Fair. Want to go halfsies on that and split it?”

And that was the end of it. My friend didn’t bring up the girl again - not in an evasive way, just a “there’s plenty of other things to smalltalk about without bringing up people you don’t get on with” way. I assume she did the same with the other girl.

To be fair, telling people you didn’t like them was a big no-no in the field we were studying (since you never know who you might need to like you later on) so that probably contributed to the lack of detailed bitching. (Although, said friend did laugh later while she was drunk during my drunken impression of what my nemesis was like while drunk herself.)

But the point is, good friends - like Alya Césaire - won’t make a habit of bringing up people you don’t like. Alya won’t pressure Marinette to give Lila a chance if Marinette makes it clear she doesn’t want to. And - get this - forming an opinion on something from a single source (like, deciding to dislike Lila purely on the basis that Marinette has something against her - something she hasn’t explained) is exactly what salters are complaining that Alya should be doing, then getting mad that she did that very thing in Volpina with Lila’s video.

Some notes:

I have no doubt that if Ladybug told Alya to take Lila’s interview down, she would do it.

Alya was still obsessing over finding Ladybug’s identity when she posted that video. Given she has since changed her goal (y’know, after becoming Rena Rouge? Remember that, guys?) she may well have taken it down already and it simply wasn’t plot-relevant. Miraculous is not known for its stellar timeline.

Alya is a journalist who has learned a lot since season 1. Like... not forming opinions based on a single source (remember that time she thought Chloé was Ladybug?). Honestly, Alya’s probably wondering, “Is there a legitimate reason to dislike Lila? Or is this some petty thing, because I don’t want to be involved in a petty grudge.”

She’s been shown to be understanding that Marinette doesn’t want to be involved with Lila (source: the episode ‘Ladybug’). And, because she’s, y’know, a normal fucking human being, she’s not going to be actively looking for a reason to dislike Lila.

All of these conclusions can be drawn from simply thinking about how normal fucking human beings act, specifically in the case of a close friend disliking someone they have no issue with. Also you can’t pick and choose the way normal fucking human beings decide to react to things.

Thank you.

#the normal fucking human beings rant #coco speaks #alya césaire #anti alya salt #no alya salt in this house #alya sugar #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #brief alcohol mention

270 notes · View notes

tallstars-rewrite · 3 years

Text

Chapter 36

chapter list / previous / next

“So what is it you call them again?” Talltail’s eyes narrowed skeptically.

“They’re called cars, so I’ve been told.” Jake replied.

They were crouched a fox-length away from a bright red shiny monster sitting quietly in front of a twoleg den.

“Is it dead?” Talltail asked, instinctively keeping his voice quiet as if he half expected the thing to roar to life any moment.

“I don’t even think they’re alive. At least, it certainly doesn’t smell alive. All I know is when housefolk gets inside one, they start moving”

“Hm.” Talltail kicked a small pebble at it. Nothing. Jake was right about that, they certainly didn’t smell like any living thing. “And what about the lights in their eyes? It’s not fire, but there are lights like that all over the twoleg places.”

“I dunno, housefolk are just good at making light that isn’t hot I guess. Between us, I think their eyesight in the dark is awful.”

“So you don’t even know how twolegs make the things they do?”

“Not really,” Jake shrugged. “But do you understand exactly how plants grow or how birds can fly?”

“Well...no, they just do. I suppose...you sort of have a point.” Talltail admitted. “But I still don’t trust these things. They sound like monsters to me. Let’s keep going, I don’t like looking at it’s eyes, even if they aren’t alive.”

They walked through gardens, keeping to the grass and sparse trees alongside the hard stone Thunderpaths and trails. As the dusky sky turned to a pale gray dawn, they saw twolegs every so often, and many of them paused to look at the two cats walking side by side. Talltail didn’t like going past them, but after narrowly escaping another aggressive group of strays, and a lost dog, Jake eventually convinced Talltail that twolegs were the lesser of the two evils. So, daylight travel it was.

“Just don’t make eye contact,” Jake said. “They’re slow, so even if they want to pet us, we can just run and they’ll give up.”

“They just try petting every animal that walks by!?” Talltail hissed.

“Well some of them, if they can.”

Talltail snorted. The absolute arrogance of assuming that because a couple cats liked them, that meant every cat wanted to be their friend. I don’t try to groom every cat I walk by because that would be weird, Talltail thought with an irritated twitch of his tail. But he was quickly finding most twolegs weren’t necessarily the ruthless predators he’d imagined them to be in his youth. They were, however, incredibly annoying.

But on the brighter side, he’d found that he really had started to get used to the sounds of the town, even though it was still overwhelming. They had to duck behind a house every now and again when a particularly loud string of monsters passed.

“We’re almost there,” Jake assured him. “I’m...mostly sure of it. When we were on the roof, I got a better idea of where we were. The alley cats chased us in the wrong direction, but we should be able to get there without crossing anyone's territory.”

After only a couple more turns down the stone path, Jake raised his tail. “Ah! There it is!” he exclaimed. “See those tall trees up ahead? I’m sure that’s where the park is.”

“Is this ‘park’ actually...safe?” Talltail asked as they grew closer. In the distance, he knew the pines that bordered ShadowClan’s territory were close. There was a ring of twoleg dens blocking it, but such a forested area would surely house prey to some cat.

“Well, twolegs walk through it with their dogs, but they have them on leashes. Don’t worry, I know not all dogs are like Dusty. I won’t make you get slobbered by any more of them,” Jake added quickly when he saw Talltail’s alarm.

“I appreciate that,” Talltail said with a shudder.

The park was a large area with sparse patches of woods and bushes surrounded by large grassy fields. Not the fields Talltail was used to, but very short soft grass that would be impossible to hide in, and most of it stank of stale dog scent. Talltail thought he would be able to relax once they’d reached a more natural familiar area, but even this place felt very...off compared to the woodland and fields he knew. Like the plants and trees were all too...neat.

“Well, it’s still better than the town,” Talltail sighed. “But where to start looking…”

“What exactly are you planning on doing when you find them?” Jake asked with a sideways glance.

“Uh...” Talltail paused. He hadn’t been thinking of it in detail, he’d just been repeatedly telling himself that he’d figure it out when he got there. “I’ll... figure it out when I get there?” he said.

“You don’t want to fight all of them do you?” Jake’s eyes were round with concern.

“No, of course not.” Talltail for the first time felt a stab of guilt for the visitors when he thought of Mole, Reena, and her parents. They had been so kind. Reena had even been his friend for a while. They wouldn’t think so kindly of him after this, but their feelings couldn’t be at the front of his mind. They were protecting a bad cat. Sparrow didn’t even care about the others as much as Hen, he’d practically said so himself. If Talltail could just get Sparrow away from the others somehow, they wouldn’t have to get involved at all.

While he was thinking, Jake had gotten distracted and was looking up at a massive oak tree with long hanging branches splaying out. He had an eager light in his eyes, like a kit hunting a drifting feather.

“We could…get higher? Maybe if we got high up we could see if there are any cats around, or even the pond we’re looking for. I bet you could see the whole area from up there, and the branches are low enough to jump to.”

Talltail looked doubtfully up at the tree. WindClan had keener eyes than most cats, but his nose was still better for searching. Maybe Jake had other motives.

But It’s not as if we’re running out of time. If they’ve hung around for this long, they’ll hang around longer… Talltail thought. He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Jake looked back at him, “You don’t think it’s too dangerous?”

“Well...maybe it’s risky, but less dangerous than what we’ve already done. It’s not as if I’ll let you fall.”

Jake’s plumy red tail flicked high, his vibrant eyes glowing with a mischievous excitement. “Bet I can get up it faster."

With that, he crouched and leapt, hooking his claws into the lowest branch and hoisting himself all the way up with an agility Talltail hadn’t expected from such a stocky cat. Talltail bunched his muscles and jumped up after him, and his paws touched the branch without requiring him to scramble the rest of the way. Keeping his momentum, he jumped again to the next nearest branch up.

He got so caught up in the challenge, Talltail was almost on the fourth branch before he remembered he’d never actually climbed a tall tree in his entire life. He made the mistake of looking down, and the ground below felt dizzyingly far, even though it didn’t feel like he’d gone very high.

“What’s wrong? I’ll be napping at the top before you get there!” Jake called. Great StarClan, how had he gotten three branches above him?

Talltail looked up. “You know uh...there’s not really many trees like this on the moor.”

“Then this’ll be good practice! Every cat should know how to climb trees!”

“What am I, ThunderClan?” Talltail grumbled. Staring up while newly aware of the drop below him, he felt significantly less confident with his leaps. “Er, Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you get up there exactly?”

“Climbed.”

“Alright, yes, but be more specific.”

“You’re half way up! How did you get to where you are?” the ginger tom flashed him a cheeky grin.

“Dumb luck? I don’t trust my paws! Can’t you tell me where you put yours?”

“Well, I trust your paws, and you should too! Just keep your eyes on where you want to be.”

Swallowing his doubt, Talltail balanced himself with his tail and found it a reliable weight as ever as he leapt. Jake stopped past the halfway point up the massive tree. The branches were separated enough that they could see the whole area around them, but too thin to climb further. For a moment Talltail could almost pretend he wasn’t surrounded on all sides by twolegs with their bizarre dens and contraptions. The call of alarmed birds disturbed from their perching was a welcome sound blocking out the distant rumble of crossing Thunderpaths. He had learned his lesson about looking down and carefully lay himself on the branch to catch his breath.

Jake lay across from him, and looked thoughtfully at Talltail’s paws. “Huh,” he said, “I didn’t expect you to have duller claws than me.” He flexed his small needle sharp claws and scraped them on the branch.

“They’re not as sharp, but they're a lot sturdier.” Talltail flexed a paw. “And those wounds are harder to close,” he added with a wink.

But it was true his claws didn’t hook into the bark as deep as he would like. He usually only needed them to grip soft earth while running, or digging.

“How high up do you think a cat can jump from without getting hurt?” Jake asked abruptly, gazing below at the dizzying drop with an amused twitch of his whiskers. He looked like he was enjoying himself somehow.

Talltail glared at him. “Do not ask me that right now.”

Jake snorted with laughter which petered into a quiet purr of contentment as the sun dripped through the branches and danced over his fur. He really did have the brightest orange pelt Talltail had ever seen. The sun caught the ginger and it glowed like the warm fire Jake’s twoleg kept in their home, the vivid stripes swirling along his tufted flanks broken up where the fur was longest. Talltail had never spent so much time trying to memorize all the details of a cat's face. It was odd, the little leap of happiness he felt fluttering around in his heart. Sometimes he caught his breath and it skipped in a way he couldn’t recall ever feeling before when looking at a cat. That’s...weird. Am I getting sick?

He scarcely realized he was staring when he noticed Jake was also looking intently at his face as well.

Talltail blinked at him. “What is it?”

Jake stretched out and touched his nose to Talltail’s cheek. “Thanks for humoring me. I’m glad you’ve let me come with you this long,” he purred.

“I wouldn’t say I’m humoring you, I wouldn’t even have gotten here without you,” Talltail replied. His ears twitched as he tried to hide the fur prickling on the nape of his neck and the warm blush rushing under his pelt from the unexpected touch. What in StarClan is wrong with me? I think the height is making me light headed.

“I mean with this climb,” Jake laughed. “My friends would have said it was fluff-brained or dangerous and told me to stop messing around. Not that I blame them, we are really high up.”

“Don’t remind me,” Talltail gulped. “I just want to enjoy the view and pretend the ground is nearby. Don’t you have friends who do this with you?”

“They’ll come on long walks with me. I like Quince and Nutmeg, but they don’t always understand me. Sometimes I just feel...this pull to do something different, like in my gut, and I have to do it. Like I see a faraway place from my roof and I think ‘what does everything look like from there?’ And I so desperately want to go there and see.”

Talltail nodded, his whiskers twitching in amusement. It was similar to that excitable longing to dash to the horizon he felt when he was young. It had been a long time since he’d dwelled on it.

Jake continued, “I can’t live my whole life every day eating, sleeping, grooming, even though I like it. I feel like...there’s something else out there, and I’ll be restless until I find out what it is. That’s why I was so glad to meet you again... I love my friends and neighbors, well-- most of them, Tyr can get stuffed. But sometimes I worry I’m annoying them with my fancies.”

Talltail blinked at Jake in surprise. “I can’t imagine any cat finding you annoying.”

Jake snorted. “Oh Talltail, you haven’t been around me long enough! Driving cats up the walls is a talent of mine.”

“Well you’ve certainly driven me up a tree, so there’s that. No other cat would be able to do that.” Talltail rested his chin on his paws. The sun felt so nice warming the dark fur on his back, he’d forgotten all about scanning the area for other cats.

Jake stretched and inched his forepaws on either side of Talltail. “I’m glad I know you,” he purred.

Talltail was a little caught off guard. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Well…. I’m...glad I know you too?”

They sat there in the branches passively grooming each other's ears, and Talltail listened to the breeze whisk through his fur. It wasn’t the familiar winds he grew up with, but he swore he could almost smell the moor carried on them from far away. Before the homesickness could creep up on him again, Jake yawned and stretched.

“Ok, we’ve stalled long enough, we should probably get down now.”

“Right, erm, down.” Talltail still wasn’t brave enough to look.

“Don’t worry, it’s not as if I’ll let you fall. Promise.” Jake winked.

“Are you going to catch me?” Talltail snorted. “I probably weigh as much as you do.”

“I could carry you if I had to! It’s not all fluff under here.”

Talltail was still doubtful of that, but Jake’s confidence in the whole situation was at least easing his nerves a little.

“I climb trees like this all the time, it’s much easier than it looks. Surely you won’t have too much trouble balancing with that tail of yours.”

Talltail swayed on his paws as he, unfortunately, finally glanced down at the dizzying drop through the branches. Oh stars… He kept his eyes firmly on Jake’s tail and paws, one branch at a time, flinching with each tentative jump, but after some coaxing and at least one instance of Jake grabbing his scruff to steady them, Talltail at last landed down onto safe grass again. He still trembled a bit even as he flexed his claws into the soft earth

“See, that wasn’t so bad!” Jake chirped.

“Says you, I can't believe you put yourself through that all the time.”

“The height is kind of a rush though, isn’t it?”

“If by rush, you mean vividly imagining the air rushing by me as I plummet to my death? Then yes, absolutely.”

“Aw I bet you could climb all sorts of things if you set your mind to it!” Jake grinned at him.

“I prefer to use my tail for steering my turns,” Talltail retorted. “WindClan are not the climbers of the forest. An old clanmate of mine, Aspenfall, took to climbing better than the rest of us, but he was still pretty bad at it.”

“You really do all have such funny names don’t you?” Jake replied. “Who else is there?”

“What, in my whole clan? well...my mentor was called Dawnstripe. I’m sure I’ve told you about Briarpaw, he’s the one training to be a medicine cat. I had a friend called Ryewhisker as well, and Fawnleap and Lilywhisker...” He listed off several more names as Jake stared. Talltail of course still knew everyone by heart.

“That’s so many cats, how do you keep track of them all?”

“That’s not even half of them! They’re your family, of course you come to know them over time.” He remembered how overwhelmed he had been as a kit, trying to learn the names of all his clanmates. They had been so patient with him.

“So how do you get your names anyhow?” Jake asked. “I heard a rumor your get a cool name when you killed your first enemy”

Talltail purred in laughter. “No, not quite. Our names are much more than that. They’re special to us, you get it when you’ve completed your training and officially become a warrior. No murder required. The first name given to you by your parents represents your roots. Your parents give you your colors and physical traits, so them choosing your first name is to honor them and the life you’ve been given. It’s usually a name referencing something from the world around us, to represent our connection to the area we are born in. Our territory is part of us after all, as important as our clanmates. It’s where you’ll spend your whole life.” Well...it’s where you’re supposed to spend your whole life, he thought with a twinge of guilt.

Jake nodded, “That's simple enough. What about the last part?”

“That��s the important part. It represents a small part of the warrior you become, what you're best known for. Some are more abstract than others. Your mentor, the leader, and the medicine cat discuss with each other about your progress over the course of your training to decide what name you're called to have.”

“That’s so cool! My name doesn’t mean anything, I wish I could earn a cool badge like that. But...What about you? Your first name is Tall, that’s not really a thing like the other names you told me.”

Talltail nodded. “My name is old. In the early times of the clans, you had no name at all until you proved you could survive to adulthood. Back then, if you got a name, it always referenced the most noticeable physical trait about you rather than anything else, so cats could tell you apart on sight. Except for the legendary warriors of course, who were named for their renowned feats, but most cats couldn’t hope to be that special. There was only one meaning to their names, rather than two separate meanings. So my name was planned ahead, a traditional one to honor the cats that survived in those hard times. That’s why my father chose it for me. I guess my tail was freakishly long back then too.”

“You didn’t get to earn a last name yourself? That doesn’t seem as fun.” Jake said.

“It’s not all about fun! Besides, no name can perfectly represent everything about you. Getting a warrior name is always an honor regardless of what it is. Besides, it is pretty notable isn’t it?” he purred, wapping Jake with his tail for good measure.

Jake sneezed as the fur tickled his nose. “Yeah, I could see you from a mile away with that thing.”

After a bit more aimless wandering, they finally paused for a moment to rest. Jake rolled in the grass, getting burs and twigs and grass shreds stuck in his tufty orange pelt. He looked a bit like a hedgehog.

“You're going to end up dragging the whole park along with you if you keep that up,” Talltail chuckled.

“Maybe I want to take some back with me. Also I like smelling like grass! It’s nice. You always smell like moor grass.”

Talltail didn’t know how that could be. It had been so long since he’d been home, the moor couldn’t possibly still be sticking to him. But maybe it was harder to get rid of than he thought.

Jake interrupted his thoughts again. “What would my name be if I was in a clan?”

Talltail snorted. “Your name? I have no idea, it’s not something you can just slap on a cat!”

“Well how do cats who join the clan get named? Does that ever happen?”

“We’ve never had an outsider join in my time but...I think the leader chooses? Even then, I can’t possibly imagine what skills you would prove over the course of training.”

“Well let’s say you’re leader, what would you call me? Just if you had to guess?”

Talltail hummed in thought, looking Jake over as he beamed back at him patiently. He had the goofiest gleeful look on his face, Talltail stifled a purr “Oh I don’t know...Perhaps Flameface.”

Jake laughed at that. “Flameface? That’s a name? That sounds so silly!”

“It’s not silly at all! It’s a perfectly fine name. No sillier than Jake, your name is nonsense! It sounds like the noise you make when you hack up a furball. It only sounds silly to you because you don’t know what it means.”

“Ok, ok that’s fair. What’s it mean?”

“Flame is pretty self explanatory. You are the brightest orange cat I’ve ever seen. And I guess I associate it with you now because your twoleg’s den was the first place I ever saw real fire.”

“I like ‘Flame.’ That part’s cool. But...what, does my face look like it’s on fire?”

“No, no it’s not always that literal. Well, maybe it is a little. Some names are for cats who are good at many different things, but master of nothing in particular.”

“What? I could be a master at something!”

“It’s not a bad thing at all!” Talltail purred. “In fact, those are some of the most reliable cats. ‘Face’ is just a variation on referencing your appearance. I think it’s often given to cats who are thought to be particularly attractive in some way or another. I can’t remember what the idea was exactly. Like their face draws attention or...lights up the area? Metaphorically of course. It’s a little sappy.”

“Ohhh...” Jake was silent for a moment in thought. “You think I’m attractive?”

“What?”

“Wow, no cats ever called me that before!”

Talltail’s pelt felt hot as he sat up. “Y-you’re thinking too hard about it, I’m trying to be objective. I only thought of it because--I just mean you’re distracting. But...In a good way.”

“I’m distracting?”

“Well, I don’t mean--I meant like, eye-catching, because of--have you looked at yourself when the sunlight hits your fur? It--No, oh for StarClan’s sake, hold on, I’m explaining this poorly. Stop looking at me like that, the point is that’s the closest guess I can manage. It might not be accurate.”

Jake grinned up at him, “I like that name.”

“...Good. It’s past sunhigh now, so we should start looking,” Talltail mewed quickly, already to his feet, hoping his fur wasn’t noticeably bristling in embarrassment.

Jake trotted after him, his tail held up high. “So, what would your name be if you earned a normal one, do you think?” he asked, a new note of amusement in his voice that Talltail was trying very hard to ignore.

“I don’t know, Jake.”

“‘Cause I think you could be a ‘face’ cat too, you’re the most distracting thing I've ever seen in my life”

“We are burning daylight here, Jake.”

“Ok, but think about it.”

Talltail would probably think about it for the rest of the day, thanks.

chapter list / previous / next

#FRU36 #chapter 36 #asdfghds this last scene was one of the first ones i wrote back in like 2018 #it still makes me giggle lmao #but also enjoy the light chapters while you can #because i will be pulling out the angst stick again soon

26 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Forgiving - Tom Holland

alright so this was vaguely based on a dream i had? idk how to feel about it, but i felt the need to write it bc it’s been on my mind for two days so here we are.

summary: You and Tom like to experiment sexually. After having your first ever threesome with him and an unknown guy you realize it was not what you wanted but you’re afraid to come clear to Tom.

word count: 2.3k

warning: slightly sexual? kinda NSFW, not too detailed threesome, some emotional stuff going on i reall don’t know

masterlist

Sex has always been about experiments for you. Ever since the beginning, your curiosity has been driving you along to try more things, find what you like, expand your boundaries. It has been all about being pleasured and to pleasure. Through the years you can easily say you’ve tried more than the average, explored unknown territories from time to time, mapped your own body, figured out what works best for you. It was all just about satisfaction, not too much about the emotions, until you met Tom.

The shy smiles he sent you at the pub that night, keeping his gaze fixed on your while his friends were trying to catch his attention, he surely caught your eye. He luckily worked up the courage to talk to you, ending up talking with you for hours before it was closing hours. The two of you exchanged numbers without hesitation and the rest is history. It’s been almost an entire year and you are confident to say you are completely and utterly in love with him. You found the person who doesn’t just clicks with you on the field of humor, interests and passions… but he shares your curiosity about undiscovered levels of sex.

You still remember the open and honest conversation you had with him just two months into the relationship. You felt nervous to bring it up, a little scared about his reaction, but he seemed just as excited as you, interested to try out things you’ve already did. It took the two of you some time to catch up with each other and get to the part where new things were unexplored by the both of you.

Experiencing these things with Tom made it all way more intense than before. The trust and love you’ve been feeling since the beginning turned it into something so much more intimate and memorable. See him grow, delving into sides of himself he hasn’t connected with and just be there for him, with him, makes you feel fulfilled. It surely brings you another level of satisfaction you haven’t been able to experience with anyone else.

You don’t think anything into it when the idea of having a threesome comes up. It has surely been a thought you played with, but didn’t feel ready yet. However, when it just casually comes up between the two of you one evening, you are surprised to see how interested Tom has been too.

“Definitely thought about it,” he hums to himself, glancing up at you from his phone while you lie next to him, tugged under the covers comfortably.

“In which setup?” you question, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Both,” he confidently answers. “But I have to admit, I thought more about the two women one man version,” he smirks and you smile back at him.

“Yeah? Had anyone in mind for the third party?”

“Not specifically, no,” he truthfully admit and you believe him. An agreement has been made in the beginning to be open and honest about anything regarding your experiments and you trust Tom with keeping his word as you do the same.

“How about you, Darling?”

“I have a few celebrities in mind, but that doesn’t count,” you smirk at him coyly before bringing back the seriousness into the conversation. “Would you want to give it a try?”

Tom thinks about it, clearly chewing his answer before he nods shortly, his eyes returning to yours.

“I think yes. But only with a person we would never ever meet again.”

“I agree,” you smile at him.

Somehow, in the upcoming weeks, the situation progresses fairly and quite steadily. Following a few more discussions you end up choosing to have another man participate in your intimate session and the two of you reach out to a professional party, wanting to make sure you don’t just fetch someone up from the street. You choose a guy based on three photos and a short description. His name is Lucas and he seems like a genuinely nice guy, it all seems like it’s going to go smoothly, he is even up for signing and NDA, something you both agreed would be essential in your current situation.

You don’t feel particularly nervous that evening you and Tom head to the hotel where you booked a room for the occasion. It was evident you wouldn’t let the third party into your bedroom, so Tom was quick to look for a room.

Holding hands, you arrive and check in, Lucas texts you that he’ll be arriving in ten when you walk into the elegant looking room. The bed is huge, could easily fit three people and you bet Tom paid extra attention to this detail.

“Hey,” Tom catches your attention when there’s still a few minutes until Lucas arrives. His hand slides into yours, squeezing it gently. “Whenever you want it to stop, just tell me, alright?” he softly tells you and it warms your heart to know that he just wants to make sure you’re comfortable with whatever happens.

“Same goes for you,” you smile at him. Leaning down he kisses you lovingly, murmuring a quiet I love you before letting go of you.

All your past experiences in sex couldn’t prepare you to what a threesome would bring to you.

It all starts just fine. Lucas is just as likable as you thought, completely open to anything you had in mind. Tom has one rule that he makes clear in the beginning: Lucas can’t kiss you, that’s just for him. And that’s a rule you easily agree with.

After a short round of do’s and don’ts you finally get down to business. Right from the beginning there’s a slightly numbing feeling in the back of your mind that you just can’t put anywhere and you are not even paying enough attention to it to figure it out. One thing follows the other and you are so focused on what’s in front of you that you are too overwhelmed to analyze your own feelings that keep just piling inside you, pushed down inside your guts until they finally erupt.

It’s happens when Lucas is inside you for the first time. Immediately, you think it must just be the unfamiliarity that you are too used to Tom, so you keep going, focusing on your boyfriend who is kissing you in the meanwhile, ushering his hand to his erection. You’re eager to please him first and utmost, but each time Lucas slides inside you, it’s like something breaks in you.

You don’t want him to be inside you. You don’t want anyone else either, just Tom. It doesn’t feel right, you want to stop it, but then you get scared, because it seems like Tom is enjoying himself and you don’t want to ruin the experience for him. So swallowing your tears you keep going until your body refuses to continue. As you get off of Lucas, you try your best to make it look like you just want a change, your hands eagerly pull Tom with you, urging him to take Lucas’ place and when you finally feel him inside you, you still can’t enjoy it the way you’d want. Clinging onto him, you are breathlessly praying to forget what it feels like to be touched by someone else than him, but the foreign, burning feeling of Lucas’ touch still stains your skin and you wish you could just shed it, get rid of it. Burn it.

Drained. That’s how you feel when the night eventually ends. Lucas doesn’t stay any longer, he thank you both that you chose him and wishes you a great rest of the night before he takes off. Lying in bed, you are still fighting your tears back, feeling nothing like yourself. You hear Tom making his way back to the bed, but before he could see the torn expression on your face, you quickly jump out of bed and lock yourself up in the bathroom. With no clothes on, you don’t waste any time to stand under the hot water, hoping it would wash away this restless feeling. Sitting down in the walk-in shower you take some time to figure out what you really feel.

You remember clearly the lustful look in Tom’s eyes, the way he seemed to be enjoying it fully. And you just now realize that’s what hurt more. That it didn’t affect him the way it affected you. Feeling another man do things only Tom does to you made you want to scream, it simply didn’t feel right and you wanted it to end. While it seemed like he didn’t. Like he didn’t mind seeing you with another man and it makes you question if he loves you the same way you love him.

Didn’t he feel jealous? Did he like seeing you like that? Didn’t he want it to stop? The questions flood your mind entirely, making it impossible for you to think about anything else.

Time is completely forgotten as you remain seated on the ground, the water flowing down your face, mixing with your salty tears. You didn’t even realize the bathroom door opens and Tom walks in.

“Y/N?” he calls out and your eyes snap up at him, meeting his gaze that’s filled with despair and confusion. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, immediately getting inside the spacious shower, kneeling down, his arms going to wrap around you, but you move away and he freezes as a sob erupts from you. “Fuck, baby, please talk to me! What’s wrong?” he begs, desperate to figure out what’s gotten you so shaken up, but you don’t feel like you are able to talk. You just cry and cry and he stay right there until you feel like there are no more tears to shed.

“I fucking hated it,” you breathe out eventually, not even daring to look him in the eyes. “I fucking hated that he wasn’t you. I didn’t want anyone else, just you.”

“Why didn’t you tell?” he asks and you can tell he is getting mad now and he has every right. He told you to speak up if something doesn’t sit right with you, yet you chose to keep your mouth shut about it. You sniff before daring to look into his eyes again, feeling smaller than ever, like you were nothing in that moment.

“Because you liked it. I didn’t want to ruin it for you,” you admit truthfully and Tom exhales sharply through his nose. It feels like eternity until he finally speaks up.

“I didn’t,” he simply says and your mouth falls open.

“What?”

“I didn’t like it.”

“Really? But you looked like… I thought—“

“Darling, you always seem to forget that I’m an actor. I pretend for a living,” he states matter-of-factly.

“How would you pretend to have a fucking erection?” you snap, letting your arms to fall from around your knees. Tom lets out a soft chuckle.

“My imagination was proved to be stronger than I expected. I wished he was gone the whole time. Fucking hated seeing someone else touch you like I do.”

“So then why didn’t you speak up?” you ask the same question he prompted just a few seconds ago.

“Because I thought you were enjoying it.”

His eyes are soft on you and most importantly: forgiving.

“We were proper idiots,” you breathe out, hands reaching out for him as you finally let him scoop you into his arms, your head lying on his naked chest.

“Seems like we both broke out rule,” he mumbles, his hands continuously brushing up and down your bare back and arms.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you. I just wanted you to enjoy it, I love knowing that I get to give you all these new feelings.”

“I’m sorry too, baby. I was afraid you’d think of me different if I didn’t go through with it.”

Lifting your head up you look into his eyes as you cup his face in your palms, your thumbs gently caressing his cheeks.

“I could never see you differently, Tom. I just want you to be happy and satisfied with me.”

“I am. Always.”

Pulling him down your lips meet his and you are finally able to kiss him without feeling any guilt. He kisses you back passionately, as if he is trying to strengthen the words he just spoke.

“I have a new rule,” he says out of breath when he pulls back.

“What is it?”

“From now on, sex is just about us. No third party.”

“Tattoo this on me, I don’t want to live by any other rules,” you blurt out making him laugh and you smile seeing him with that wide grin.

“Alright. Come on, I think we both need to sleep it off,” he tells you as he helps you up from the floor.

Though you’d love to replace your bruised feelings about sex with some new experiences with the only man you love, for now you still just want to lie in bed with his arms around you and that’s exactly what happens.

Not bearing to stay in the hotel room any longer, the two of you quickly pack everything up and go straight home. Stripping from all your clothes you’re quick to climb under the covers and make yourself comfortable in the safety of your own bed that still only holds the sweet mixture of your and Tom’s scent. He wraps his arms tight around you as you nuzzle against his side, a hand lying flat on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palm.

“I love you,” you whisper quietly, pressing a kiss to his abdomen as he squeezes you gently.

“I love you too,” he mumbles, already half asleep, but you know his words hold the truth.

general/forever taglist for Tom Holland

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Tom taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Tom fics!

@zaahidahhh @shawn-youth @wildflower-cth @imaginashawnns @haute-shawn @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @cutepenguin1 @madatmendes @harrysleftchelseaboot @bookwormmusiclover15 @dontworrysunflower

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

#tom #holland #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland oneshot #tom holland smut #tom holland one shot #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader

233 notes · View notes

swaps55 · 4 years

Text

Little Spoon

Requested by @mallaidhsomo, inspired by @shotce‘s adorable artwork.

Even when they try to celebrate something these days, it turns into something closer to desperate drinking before the end of the night. Most of the time the desperate drinking goes well into the early morning, and not, Garrus thinks, because everyone is that hell bent on getting drunk. More like they don’t want to let go of each other’s company and go to sleep, where the only company is the nightmare scenarios in everyone’s heads.

Tonight is no different, even though it’s supposed to be. Shepard didn’t want to celebrate his birthday in the first place, but once someone – Garrus’ money is on Traynor – let it slip, the entire ship latched onto it.

Which is why the lounge is currently the busiest place on the ship. Kaidan manhandles Garrus, Joker, James, Dr. Chakwas and Cortez at a rousing game of poker. Liara and Tali giggle – Garrus now has recorded proof that Liara can giggle – on the couch as they explain an Earth romance novel series to Traynor and EDI. Shepard, on the other hand, sits at the bar with hunched shoulders, swirling a shot of whiskey with a scowl. It would be more intimidating if a half-eaten slice of cake wasn’t sitting next to him and a party hat Traynor had fabricated from an omnitool wasn’t hanging around his neck.

Garrus knows when to quit at poker, so when the hand ends he slides into the seat next to Shepard and pours himself a turian brandy.

“Did Kaidan clean you out?” Shepard asks.

“And then some,” Garrus concurs. His brow plates shift. “You’re not drunk enough yet.”

“No kidding.” He holds up the shot and clinks it against Garrus’ carapace, then kicks it back. Garrus drinks his, pours them both another one, then grabs a napkin and dabs the whiskey that’s now on his carapace.

“So why are you anti-birthday? I thought humans loved commemorating their ages.”

Shepard grimaces. “How fucking old am I, Garrus?”

Garrus blinks. “Shepard, I have no idea. I don’t have your file memorized. Ok, I may have your blood pressure memorized. And your typical heart rate, both in and out of combat. Oh, and after that incident on Korlus I got to learn all about human blood sugar. Specifically yours. But not your age.”

Shepard tilts his head. “What’s my blood pressure?”

“Now, or usually?”

“Usually.”

“One fourteen over seventy-six.”

“Well, shit.”

“Drink your whiskey.”

Shepard does, so Garrus does, and then pours them both another. Shepard’s Cerberus metabolism makes the actual ‘drunk’ part a lot harder than it used to be. Through a lot of trial and error, Garrus learned the key is rapid-fire shots and a can-do attitude. Sometimes the can-do attitude has to come from Garrus.

“Ok, so back to your weird hang up with age,” Garrus says.

Shepard finds an empty bottle of beer and starts picking at the label. From the couch, Traynor utters the phrase “that’s not how a strap on works if you’re going for realism,” and Garrus regrets having ears.

“I should be turning 30,” Shepard says, so quietly Garrus almost misses it trying to tune out Traynor. “Thirty’s a big deal for humans. I guess.” He goes back to swirling his whiskey, holding the shot glass up to his eyeline and examining it closely before kicking it back.

“Ah,” Garrus says wisely. It isn’t hard for him to get drunk, something he always forgets when he starts matching shots with Shepard. “But then you died.”

“Yeah. So how old am I? Am I thirty? Or am I thirty-two? I missed two fucking years of my life, Garrus. Those years were mine. I wanted them.” He turns his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the poker game going on behind them. Or more likely, the biotic major who is kicking everyone’s ass at the poker game.

“Two years of birthday sex would be a shitty thing to miss out on,” Garrus says with a solemn nod.

That earns him a snicker. “Something like that. I’ll be honest, I feel more robbed of the cuddling than the sex. I mean, don’t get me wrong he’s—”

“Shepard, I am gonna stop you right there, because I am not drunk enough to hear about the intimate details of your sex life and I am positive that all of your crewmates on the couch are now listening to every word you say.”

“We are not,” Tali huffs.

Garrus flicks a mandible.

Shepard shrugs, unconcerned. “The cuddling is fucking stellar.” He shoots the whiskey, slamming the empty glass back on the table.

“I know. So you’ve said.”

Shepard probably doesn’t realize just how much he’s talked about Alenko’s snuggling superpowers. It took Garrus awhile to figure out how spoons factored into it, but eventually he got there. It was a lot less…weird than he’d been picturing. Humans are so endlessly bendy.

“I just…don’t particularly enjoy celebrating the reminder that I’m never getting those two years back.”

Garrus’ mandibles quiver. “Well, you weren’t supposed to come back at all. Dying is pretty permanent for everyone who’s not you. Why not celebrate the fact that when you stop brooding and Alenko gets tired of taking Vega’s money, you’re going to go back up to your cabin and be the little spoon you were born to be?”

Shepard tilts his head. “You might have a point there.”

“Hang on, the universe just provided me with some rather cosmic timing.” Garrus gets unsteadily to his feet, walks unsteadily to the couch and unsteadily leans Tali forward so he can grab a small parcel he’d stuffed behind the cushion.

“Hey,” Tali protests.

“You’re beautiful and I’ll make that up to you,” he informs her before shuffling back to the bar with the package. He clears his throat loud enough for the poker table to hear. He and Alenko had created a code word for this, but fuck if he remembers what it is. Thankfully, Alenko isn’t nearly as dense as Shepard, and figures it out. He lays his cards on the table, gets to his feet, and heads to the bar, pausing to grab another hidden parcel.

“Happy birthday,” Garrus says, handing him the gift. The packaging is just a zipped duffle bag. Garrus figured that having the idea was more important than figuring out how to make taped paper look special.

Shepard narrows his eyes. “You got me a birthday present.”

Alenko leans a nonchalant elbow on the bar, beer in hand. Shepard, as predicted, hasn’t noticed his costume change.

“Yeah,” Garrus says. “Because I don’t give a damn how old you are. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”

Shepard unzips the bag and pulls out a hoodie. It’s a pullover, just like the one Kaidan now wears, with the word “little” emblazoned on the front, over the silhouette of a spoon.

Shepard blinks at it, brow knitting in confusion, until he looks up and notices Kaidan wearing its twin. Only his says “Big” over the spoon.

The confusion melts into a grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes. He laughs, and looks back at Garrus. “You are such an asshole.”

Garrus holds up his glass. “I learn from the best.”

Kaidan slips the birthday hat still dangling from Shepard’s neck off so he can put the hoodie on. Garrus half expects both of them to bail for the privacy of Shepard’s cabin to practice what their hoodies preach, but the desire for shared company affects Shepard as much as it affects the rest of them. He abandons the bar and switches to the couch, bringing Kaidan with him. Liara moves over to give them room. When they sit, Kaidan draws Shepard into his arms and traps him close.

“To spooning,” Traynor declares, holding up a glass of wine.

“We should add that to our Forbidden Ops story,” Liara says, sipping her martini.

“Way ahead of you,” Tali says.

Shepard smiles, settling deeper into Kaidan’s arms.

Savior of the Galaxy, and Kaidan Alenko’s little spoon. Garrus shakes his head. He has the weirdest fucking friends.

#mshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect #my fic #garrus vakarian #TEAM KAIDAN IS THE BIG SPOON #i read back over this once #so sorry for weird typos and syntax #blame the bourbon #oh did i mention #that tali joker and liara are writing forbidden ops fanfiction?#because they are #and yes #i actually have notes with shepard's baseline blood pressure #FOR REASONS #also the timeline totally doesn't line up for this #DON'T CARE

163 notes · View notes

be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

Step 6: Physical Affection

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

Physical Affection

As your romantic relationship strengthens, so will your physical connection. Keep in mind that there is no specific destination to work toward, and any expectations should only come about through careful and clear communication. If your goal is truly to charm her, assume you have your entire lives to explore your physical relationship. Do not rush it, so that you can enjoy the journey fully.

******

When Crookshanks was fed up with Ron's attention, he abruptly stood, stretched, and trotted across the bed toward Hermione. He curled up contentedly behind Hermione's knees before yawning wildly and drifting off to sleep. With his hand now free, Ron brought 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches back to his lap, and shuffled the next chapter, Physical Affection.

At the very beginning, the thought of advancing their physical relationship caused Ron significant anxiety. Having been friends for seven years before becoming romantically involved, he couldn't imagine going back to a normal friendship after seeing each other naked. Although Lavender had never seen him completely starkers, the progressions in that relationship never made him nervous, because there was no pre-existing friendship to risk. With Hermione, he found that the stakes were much higher- if he screwed up, there was a lot more to lose.

Nowadays, the nervousness of their first few experiences together seemed so far away.. Ron didn't think twice about stripping down for a shower, or simply to change clothes, and seeing her eyes linger on him no longer made him feel self-conscious. He knew she felt the same way when she thoughtlessly tugged her own clothes off after a long day at work, her bra usually being the first thing she ditched as she transitioned to more comfortable attire.

He no longer worried about pressuring her. At this point they had explored so much new territory together, that they learned how to clearly and confidently tell each other no. All it took was a playful swat to his hand and he would retreat instantly. He knew she'd never take offense if he groaned and pushed her gently away when she kissed him more fervently than was typical for an innocent greeting. Maybe he was already late for work, or he was too tired after Quidditch practice, or he didn't even have a reason, and that was ok too.

In other instances, all it took was a sultry look and raise of her eyebrow, and he would waste no time undoing the buttons of her blouse right there on the living room sofa. There was no time to be bashful when they hastily undressed each other in the powder room at a work party. Time was limited to a quick reprieve from the awkward small talk and polite compliments on food that couldn't quite satisfy his appetite like Hermione. Sometimes there'd be no reason to remove any clothing in her office between meetings, leaving little opportunity for self-consciousness. On those occasions, he'd lock her door, cast a muffliato charm, and hoist her up to her desk, before dipping his head underneath her skirt, running his tongue along her thigh, and tugging at her knickers with his teeth.

Their physical relationship had become so intuitive, and it was difficult to remember the awkwardness of their teenage selves. He had to remind himself that they didn't always know each other's bodies so well. There was a lot of trial and error at the beginning, and understanding what to do with his hands, how to move his fingers, and where to put his mouth required her guidance and feedback. He had to teach her just as much about his own preferences, and it took time, effort, and observation to master their crafts.

******

They remained in Australia for a few more weeks, spending their days together while the Grangers were at work. During that time, they continued to explore the city, eating at new restaurants, visiting new museums, and even riding that wooden roller coaster at Luna Park. There was a particularly memorable day at the beach, when they spent hours attempting to surf, before they had to cut the day short because their sun potion wasn't quite strong enough to protect Ron from the strong Australian rays.

With the stress of reversing the memory charm off their shoulders, their time in Australia started to feel more like a holiday, and not just in the city, but in their hotel room as well. Ron was pleased to discover how quickly things progressed between them when Hermione had nothing but time and her characteristic curiosity, but no looming exams or tasks ahead to occupy herself. The irony of the most unremarkable place housing some of his most memorable experiences was not lost on Ron, but he couldn't help but appreciate that the drab window-coverings and the peeling wallpaper only accentuated her uniqueness.

That hotel room was where she removed his shirt for the first time since he was splinched. Unlike during their second kiss, she didn't ignore his state of undress, but relished in it, landing a trail of kisses down his neck and chest. That hotel room was where he nervously slipped his hand under her shirt for the first time, inching against her bra in question until she nodded her permission. Even though it broke their kiss, he couldn't help but beam when he slid it further, because her breast fit so perfectly into the palm of his hand, and he'd never known the luxury of custom-made before. It was also where they finally had that very awkward, but very necessary conversation about what they had and hadn't done with other people. They spent some time on opposite ends of the bed, arms crossed stiffy, as Ron underwent an interrogation involving what Lavender had seen, touched, and experienced with him, but they spent even more time wrapped up in eachothers arms, wearing only half of their clothing, because it turned out there were still many more firsts to be had.

Not all of their free time was spent alone together. They committed their evenings to the Grangers so Hermione could reconnect fully with her family before the pair went back to England. Hermione was at first upset to learn that her parents had no intentions of coming back with them. They really loved their new home in Melbourne, things were going very well at their new dental practice, and transporting Herman overseas would be a nightmare.

They were outside in their yard when the conversation first came up. Hugo had assigned Ron to 'Burger Duty' while he mixed up cocktails for everyone, leaving Ron to pretend he knew how a grill worked. With his wand stashed inconspicuously up his sleeve, he made a point to thank his mother for the cooking spells she forced on him growing up. He was also thankful for the cooler weather that allowed him to comfortably wear long, wand-obscuring sleeves.

"It's quite cold," he said. "I always thought Australia would be warmer."

"Well," said Jean, who was busy playing fetch with Herman. "Since we're in the southern hemisphere, it's winter now. That's why it would probably make more sense for you both to visit us over the Christmas holidays, and we can come see you in the summer."

Ron was thrilled by the implication of her use of "we", but Hermione was caught up in another detail of her answer.

"Wait…," she started, sounding hurt. "You're not coming back to England?"

As the pair began to argue, Ron was quickly redirected by Hugo, who handed him a drink. "Burgers are looking great Ron!" he said brightly. "Let's leave them for a bit and head inside, I have something I want to show you."

"Er, sounds good," said Ron as he closed the lid to the grill and followed Mr. Granger into the house.

"Do you like the drink?" Hugo asked casually.

Ron hastily took a sip of the creamy drink before answering. "Yeah, it's good. What is it?"

Hugo laughed. "Well right now it's an Alexander without the gin." They were in the kitchen now, and Hugo reached into one of the cabinets to pull out a mid sized green-tinted bottle. "Archie Rose. A truly superb Australian Gin." He motioned for Ron to hand over his glass, so he could complete his cocktail.

"Thank you, sir," said Ron, as he took another sip, which was decidedly stronger than his first.

"Hugo's fine," said Mr. Granger. "Sir's my dad."

Ron nodded. "Thank you, Hugo. It's a good drink." Ron followed Hugo's lead, and sat down at the barstool at the kitchen counter.

"I just wanted to give them some more space to hash it out," Hugo explained. "I figured that she wouldn't react well to the news that we're staying here."

"Yeah," said Ron. "I think she assumed you'd come back. Can't blame you, though. It's beautiful here."

"Well then, I hope you visit often," said Hugo, grinning at Ron.

Ron nodded again. "I'm sure we will."

It was then that Hugo's eyes narrowed slightly, but that could have been Ron's imagination. "So, you two are pretty serious then?"

Ron had been expecting this to come up, but the abruptness took him by surprise. "Well, um," he started, taking a sip of his cocktail to buy some time, but Hugo's eyes were still on him, expecting an answer. "We technically just got together at the beginning of the summer."

"Hmm," said Hugo. "And you're already serious enough to travel across the world with her?"

"Erm.. well, we've been friends for ages," Ron started, but paused when he saw that Hugo was smiling at him.

"I don't mean to make you sweat," he said. "I'm glad you've been there for her."

Ron felt relieved at Hugo's geniality, but wondered if it might be misguided. "Oh, well, of course. I care a lot about her."

"I can tell," he said with another sip. "I could tell a while ago, actually. Fourth year. Yule Ball, was it?"

Ron laughed. "She told you about that?"

"Well, she tells Jean everything. And Jean tells me."

"Gotcha," said Ron.

"And then there was sixth year," said Hugo. "I guess I should be thanking you for that one, since it meant she spent Christmas with us."

Ron felt a pang of guilt, and knew his face was turning beet-red. "I was kind of an arse that year," he said. He winced upon hearing his language, and hoped Hugo Granger didn't hate swearing as much as his daughter did.

Fortunately, he laughed. "I was an arse when I was sixteen too." He shrugged. "Seems like both of you have grown up since then."

Ron nodded. "We have."

Hugo took a deep breath, exhaled audibly, and paused before his next question. "Are you being safe?"

"Excuse me?" said Ron. His face was definitely ripening like a tomato now.

Hugo chuckled. "Are you using protection?"

"Um, well, no, we aren't-"

"Well, that concerns me," interrupted Hugo.

"We aren't having sex." Ron interjected a little more firmly.

"Ahh. You aren't having sex," said Hugo, with another casual sip of his drink. "Yet."

"Sorry?" Ron felt as though his stomach had tied itself up in knots, not unlike the sensation he became so accustomed to before a Quidditch game.

"Look, Ron. I like you. And I'm not stupid," he set down his glass and turned to look at Ron. "I'm not going to pretend that you're not thinking about having sex with my daughter. And I'm definitely not going to sit here and tell you not to, because I know that would be pointless."

Ron's gaze fell uncontrollably down to his near-empty glass, suddenly wishing that there was more alcohol in it. This unexpected conversation with Hermione's dad was starting to feel like an exam he hadn't prepared for.

"I just need to make sure two things happen when you do." He paused, and Ron realized he was waiting until he had his eye contact again. So reluctantly, Ron sat up straight, and turned to face him. Hugo nodded approvingly before continuing. "Promise me two things. One, you'll undoubtedly get consent. And two, you'll use protection. Both of those things, every single time."

Ron nodded. "Of course."

"I'm assuming you have sufficient knowledge regarding contraception? With five older brothers and all."

Ron nodded again, now faced with the unfortunate memory of his dad walking him through the use of contraceptive spells.

"Are there magical methods?"

"Er, yeah." Ron looked up at Hugo, who simply motioned for him to continue. "Um, there's a potion, and two types of spells. Female and male. They work alone but are more effective when done together."

"How long do they last?"

"Twenty-four hours," answered Ron, thankful that he had enough knowledge to answer confidently, as it seemed to reassure Hermione's dad.

"And you're confident you can perform them correctly?"

"Yeah,' said Ron. "I mean, I've never had an opportunity to test them, if that's what you're getting at. But they're not difficult, and you can perform another spell to check that it worked."

Hugo laughed. "I wasn't getting at that, but I appreciate your honesty. I trust you, Ron."

Ron exhaled the remaining air that he didn't realize he was holding, and Hugo poured a shot of gin into both of their empty glasses.

"That's right, take a breath. You did good," said Hugo, and Ron was encouraged to see the more relaxed Hugo reanimate. "I'll never forget when Jean's dad questioned me like that. I hate to say it, but you handled it much better than I did. How about a shot?"

"Please," said Ron, as Hugo laughed. Together, they tipped back their drinks.

When they recovered, Hugo playfully clapped Ron on the back. "I like you. Wouldn't have given you my most expensive gin if I didn't," he said, before standing up and turning toward the back door. "I think they're done with their tough conversation too. Let's have those burgers."

Ron sighed in relief, before he stood up and followed Hugo out the door.

The rest of the evening progressed with no mention of Ron and Hugo's conversation. Hermione seemed to accept that her parents were staying in Australia. They discussed travel plans, the state of their old dental practice, and what to do with their former house. They also engaged in lighter conversation concerning Herman's obedience classes, Jean's new book club, and Hugo's disastrous first attempt at parasailing.

After dinner with the Grangers, Hermione and Ron disapparated back to their hotel. Once in their bedroom, he didn't waste any time before he grabbed her hand and circled her around to face him. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her. Thankful to be alone again, he let his hands wander further down her back, until they reached her bum.

She broke the grin with a smile. "At least buy me dinner first," she said playfully.

"Don't have to, your parents already did," he said before guiding her back to the bed, until they collapsed into a tangle of limbs on the mattress. They kept their lips together, letting their hands wander, until Ron slipped his hands up her shirt to unclasp her bra. It took him a few tries, a few weeks ago he might have been embarrassed by her chuckle, but this time he was reassured because it meant that she was comfortable with him. She sat up to help him slide the straps off her arms before pulling her bra out from underneath her shirt.

Ron smiled. "Thank you," he muttered before his hands found her body again like a magnet. It wasn't long before he willingly let her pull off his shirt, and she tossed it on the floor to accompany her bra. He smiled at her before tugging at the hem of her top. "Can I?" he asked.

"Yes of course," she whispered between kisses, and he slowly pulled her shirt up and over her head.

They'd been here before, just a few times, but Ron felt his breath catch in his throat like it was the first. "Come here," he told her as she pressed her lips back to his and he rolled onto his back so that she was on top of him. He let his hands slide to her breasts and her mouth opened to allow him entry. A moan had barely escaped him when she slid off of him to lay at his side, and pulled back.

"What if we showered together?" she asked unexpectedly.

Ron paused, surprised by her offer. It made him slightly anxious, as she'd never seen him without his trousers before. But he knew by the rosy tint of her cheeks that she must have felt the same way. "I'd like that," he said as his voice cracked nervously.

"Ok." She smiled and kissed him deeply, before slipping off of the bed, and making her way toward the bathroom.

Fuck, thought Ron. His heart was pounding as he laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wondered if she was as nervous as he was. When he heard the shower faucet running, he thought it best not to leave her waiting, just in case she was.

She was already in the shower when he entered the bathroom, her clothing in a pile on the floor. He took a deep breath, as he undid the buttons of his trousers, letting them fall to his ankles. Then he slid out of his pants, before catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He was still scrawny and lanky, now sporting a few extra freckles and a peeling sunburn. But she'd seen all that before, and it wasn't what he was nervous about. He turned away from the mirror, so he wouldn't risk talking himself out of what he did next.

It wasn't the most effective shower that Ron had ever taken, nor was it very relaxing or calming. It was, however, one of the most nerve wracking showers of his life, and not because he thought there was a death eater on the other end of the shower curtain waiting to strike. It was because his breath caught in his throat when he stepped in beside her, and he saw all of her for the first time. He had been expecting the rush of self-consciousness he felt when her eyes moved slowly down his body, studying the parts of him that she had only imagined, but it still made his heart rate spike. He didn't think about what it would be like to kiss her when he didn't have any pants on to keep himself contained, and he definitely wasn't prepared for the first time she touched him without trousers to be accidental, brought on by the confined space they were in.

He hadn't thought this far ahead, and was paralyzed by the fact that he didn't know what to do. He had assumed that instinct would take over, but it didn't, so he simply pulled her close and kissed her, doing his best to pretend they weren't naked, and ignore that he was pressing against her in a way that begged for her attention. Then he reminded himself that it was Hermione here and he'd always been able to ask her anything, so that shouldn't be different just because they were starkers in a shower.

"Can I touch you?" he asked her nervously, while holding her to his chest, staring intently at the shower wall behind her.

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

He couldn't blame the color that crept up his neck and to his ears on the heat of the shower. He had her permission, but there was still one problem. "Can you… show me how?" he nearly whispered.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he felt her nod against him again.

He held his breath as she took his hand and guided it down her body, toward the opening of her legs, and he swore internally when he felt her for the first time. He observed her movements and studied the rhythm of his hand, trying to memorize any patterns because he could be a good student when he wanted to be.

Eventually, she removed her hand from his so she could grip the shower head instead, and he continued to mimic her patterns. He discovered that he could rely on the rise and fall of her chest, the erratic pattern of her breath, and the deepening rose color of her cheeks for feedback. So he kept observing her signals as he touched her, greatly enjoying this new, nonverbal form of communication.

He figured he was doing something right when she gripped the shower head more tightly, bit her lip, and threaded her free hand's fingers into his hair. He watched her chest rise and fall under the steady stream of water, her breath increasing in both pace and volume, building tension until she had to release. Her legs buckled underneath her and he held her against him as she audibly came undone, and the sound of shower head could no longer drown her out. New favorite subject, he thought. She'd always been a fantastic teacher after all.

She recovered and regained the support of her legs, and he reluctantly removed his arm from around her back. Her vulnerability in the moment had all but dissipated his own nervousness, so when she asked him what he wanted, he didn't at all feel weird about taking her hand, and showing her how he liked to be touched. It might have been the extra steam of the shower obscuring her view, or the fact that she had already unraveled in front of him, but he was no longer self conscious when he let go of her hand and got lost in the moment. It wasn't long until he was relying on his own hand to support him against the shower wall and he buried his head into her neck to muffle a string of profanity he would have filtered had he been able to elicit any control over his words.

Fantastic teacher she might be, it turns out she had always been an even better student.

#ROMIONE #romione smut #hp fanfic #hpromione #hp ficlet #ronweasley #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #Hermione Granger #romione fanfic #hp smut

79 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Catching the Highlights

It wasn’t like she was nervous, not really. Or jealous, even. Honestly, the entire story was more than a little hysterical and very nearly distracted Belle from the obviously frustrated way Will kept moving his hands at the end of the second period. Still, there was something about sitting in the stands that felt different and maybe hearing about how her maybe-boyfriend made out with Anna Vankald one time was just the push she needed. To make things a bit more real.

———

Word Count: Nearly 4.5K AN: This is a thing I do now, apparently. Write Blue Line! Will and Belle. And poorly photoshop eights into sixes on jerseys. Although I draw the line at making the girl that same photo wear a skirt. Anyway, this continues to be real fun, I hope the five people enjoying it continue to enjoy it and I think I’ve got at least one more idea for these dweebs. So, that’ll probably happen sooner rather than later. Possibly with more badly executed photoshops.

———

It had something to do with his eyes.

With the way they narrowed ever so slightly, able to thin without causing any sort of furrow between his brow or lines of frustration on his forehead. They’d pinch. His eyes, that was. Make it so it was difficult for Belle to see the brown there or the bits of gold that she was at least ninety-six percent positive she wasn’t imagining and only slightly less confident had something to do with her.

She’d never really been one for details, like that.

Strange as it might have been.

Details were the lifeblood of research. Tiny bits of information that could sway a doctoral defense or prove an argument, but Belle had always been far more interested in the sweeping potential of a very good story, and research had that too, she supposed. To some degree, at least. Although, that was getting existential. Her work was good. She was good. Fine, even. Definitely fine. Nothing to see here. Nothing to worry about. No reason to compare the strange and not entirely unfamiliar sensation of fluttering in the pit of her stomach whenever Will glanced her way to the decidedly still nature of all her internal organs while she spent eight to ten hours uptown five days a week.

Sitting at her desk, she regularly tried to fit into the mold, everything everyone expected her to be with the title she had, and that required her to think less about the bigger picture. That sounded negative. It wasn’t. Probably. Hopefully. Just required further research. More details and specific examples.

All of them regarding the nature of Will’s eyes.

Even so, she—

Part of her missed it. The sweep. The really good stories. Ones that were less clinical and more fantastical. And the deep breath that always came just seconds before being overwhelmed. By the current and the wave and those were rather similar, as far as analogies went, but all the best stories always left her a little overwhelmed, and Belle’s cheeks were starting to ache as something bubbled out of her. Laughter, in its purest form. Bouncing and bounding and echoing off otherwise abandoned walls, the pair of them tucked into a corner of the Garden concourse because they hadn’t actually decided this was a secret, but Anna Vankald was apparently living her life under some sort of blood oath, all sworn secrecy, and poorly executed winks in the second period.

Like this was hidden. A tiny detail tucked away. Never debated. Never highlighted in the opening paragraphs of a twenty-six-page dissertation. With Chicago-style formatting.

No one ever knew how to property do Chicago-style formatting.

Belle might have hated Chicago-style formatting.

She’d never been to Chicago.

Had never been—

Will’s eyes were barely slits on his face.

Twisted lips loomed above her, not quite frustration, but inching closer the longer she kept laughing, and she refused to linger on what that meant. The laughing. The happiness. Joy, maybe. She looked up, instead. Let her head bump the wall her shoulders already had, appreciating the soft scrape of what might have been concrete against her hair, like that would ground her or slow her overactive imagination, and his hair was still wet.

“She wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” Belle bit the side of her tongue. Didn’t help, really. With her laughter problem. “Keeping state secrets?” “It happened once.” “Yes, she mentioned that, too.” He might have growled. Some strange part of her wanted him to, relished whatever the technical term was for the sound that eked out between his bared teeth, rolling his whole head in the process. Their noses nearly collided.

Belle pushed up on her toes.

To kiss the tip of Will’s nose.

“That’s distracting,” he grumbled, but his hand had inched under the hem of her shirt, and that meant he’d managed to get the hem of her shirt out of the skirt she was wearing.

“Should I have worn your jersey or something?”

His eyes snapped. Open. Brown and gold, and that wasn’t a particularly swoon-like combination in any of the stories Belle had memorized while she was growing up. Heroes with royal titles and broadswords quite literally made to challenge dragons and hordes of villains always came with blonde hair and a slight curl, flashing blue eyes that twinkled in sunlight and starlight, and Belle’s hand didn’t shake. When she brushed the few drops of water clinging to Will’s temple away.

Her calves were starting to ache, too. Made sense. She was still pushed up on her toes.

And the Rangers had lost. Not—well, not badly. By two goals, and one of those was an empty-net goal, which was a term Belle figured out all on her own. Well before Anna mumbled explanations under her breath, glaring daggers any time the Islanders fan two rows in front of them dared to open his mouth.

Honestly, that was part of the problem. He kept yelling, and Anna looked dangerously close to staging some sort of public execution in section 204 and Belle had asked. For details. Wanted a good story, or possibly a distraction because she’d noticed the way Will’s hands moved at the end of the second period, staging a rather enthusiastic conversation with a man she’d never met, but his jersey said LOCKSLEY, and she didn’t think the jersey would lie to her.

She was going to blame the Islanders fan.

“If you did that,” Will mumbled, in response to a question she’d legitimately almost forgotten about, “I’m not sure I would have been able to get out on the ice.” “Oh, compliment or—” “Definite compliment. Was that not obvious?” “Well, you’re making out with so many other girls.”

Her laugh clung to the letters, pulling her lips behind her teeth to keep from smiling like a total idiot. Something was happening. With the flutters and the overall ability of her nasal passages to get oxygen back to her lungs, and it must have been a trick of the light. The way Will’s eyes flashed, gaze flicking up beneath eyelashes and just above the half curve of his mouth, and Belle’s knees felt a little unsteady beneath her. Fighting against the force of a wholly imaginary, even more staggering wave.

“One time,” he said, straining on every letter, “it happened one time, and—seriously, why was she talking about this with you?” “Asked for a fun and interesting story about her.” Will’s eyes bugged, another shift in his voice that was much more like a crack as he nearly shouted, “And that’s what she came up with?”

“Said anything she had to tell me about her childhood was boring. Mostly because a lot of it would focus on KJ, because—”

“That’s Cap.” Belle clicked her tongue. “Wow, thank you for that. What would I do without you?” “If you wore my jersey, I think my head would explode.” “Not the compliment you think it is, either. That’d be a lot of blood. Who would even clean that up? Couldn’t make someone here do it; that’d be mean. Cruel and unusual, probably.” “I like your skirt.” “Better,” Belle laughed, in spite of her best efforts. Which were really lackluster, quite frankly. “Anyway, the childhood was apparently super boring, and there were shenanigans of rookie season to discuss.”

“She grew up in a mansion!” “Yeah, we got to that part eventually, although technically, I think it was just a brownstone.” “Rich kid description.” “You can tell her that if you want, I’m sure,” Belle reasoned, but his lips were back to twisted, and she was already on her toes. Made sense to use that to her advantage. Pressing kisses against the edges of his mouth, alternating back and forth until it felt a little like a rhythm she could time the rest of her vaguely unsteady breathing to, and she certainly did try. Didn’t work, but something about effort and attempts and those were—

Details, really.

“I like her,” Belle added lightly, mouth moving across a stubble-covered cheek. Part of her felt ridiculous. Always did with things like this. She wasn’t the story. Will wasn’t the hero. He and his teammate had gotten into a fight at the end of the second period, for God’s sake. And this wasn’t—well, it wasn’t a fairy tale. No matter how much sweeping there might have been. With its butterfly wings and salt-filled waves, all of which existed solely in Belle’s subconscious.

But there was this other part.

Part of her that didn’t always linger behind her desk. Flitted through imaginary scenarios and stories stored in the back corner of her brain, the same one that could still smell salt air with startling clarity, and remembered the precise taste of freshly-made taffy from that one restaurant on the beach. Details. She remembered those details. Held them fast, afraid they’d disappear otherwise, and made sure they played prominent roles in every daydream.

For fear of what would happen if she didn’t.

How they’d fade. Grow grey and thin, and it was a contradiction. Right in the middle of her. And that scared her just a little bit, because whatever was happening now, right at that moment, with a hand flat on the curve of her hip and her heart doing its abject best to beat its way out of her chest, she felt the same exact way. Sweeping and detailed and not the least bit jealous.

There was no need to be, really. Not when she was fairly certain she could drown in the golden flecks of Will’s eyes. Constantly staring at her as they were apt to do.

“Do you want to hear the gist of the story?”

Will’s lips pursed. Stayed that way even as Belle’s lips continued their path across his face, spending at least two seconds at the side of his left eye and the still slightly damp area surrounding his right temple. She started picking up speed. Quick kisses that she could only hope felt as strongly as the prickle of her lips suggested. But then Will’s fingers tightened. Not much. Just enough to be obvious, and Belle grinned against his cheek.

“I lived it,” Will argued, but there wasn’t much fight in it. He’d done that already, anyway. They’d get to that part, eventually.

“As the story goes, though, there was some less than savory libations involved, and—” “I’m still not convinced that vodka was legal in the continental United States.” “Suggests it’d be fair game in Hawaii and Alaska, though. Possibly Puerto Rico. I’m not sure what the rules on that are. Maybe the US Virgin Islands. What about Guam? You think your alcohol would be fair game in Guam?” “I’d have to check the label.” “You still have it?” Belle balked, almost fully and entirely prepared for the flash of amusement and the precise angle of eyebrow jump. Almost being the key word, there. Another burst of laughter tumbled out of her, lips on her cheeks that time, all blazing and prickling, and that one wasn’t inherently positive, but she was slightly worried her hair was going to get caught in the concrete of the wall and she could not possibly be expected to think when Will’s hand kept doing whatever it was it was doing.

“No, no, we did a very good job of drinking that entire thing, but I’d know that bottle anywhere.” “Where were you buying illegal alcohol? Also, how did you not die drinking hundred-proof vodka?” “Pure force of will.”

“And bad hockey games.” “Those too,” Will admitted grudgingly. An edge crept into his voice. Likely born in the second period of this game. She kissed the bridge of his nose. The tip. Between his eyebrows. Waiting for some of the tension to leave his shoulder blades, and that was all she got. Some. It was enough, for now.

“You want to talk about that?” “Losing a playoff game my rookie season? That happened a bunch of times, babe, this was just—” “Don’t be an idiot,” Belle interrupted.

He grinned. Tension kept pulling taut between his shoulders and the slope of his cheekbones, the second of which was really starting to offend Belle on an almost fundamental level, but his smile looked legitimate, and that was enough.

“Should I go defend your honor in the locker room, darling?” The grin widened. “Trying to get a rise out of me, but gender is a social construct, so I don’t think it affects nicknames, and I’m a real big fan of that one, actually.” “No rise,” Belle promised, fingers hovering above his shoulders, and they both flinched when he winced. “Going to be honest, the hitting sort of freaked me out.” “Locksley wasn’t going to hit me.” “Well, yeah, then I’d have to punch him in the locker room.” “Keep your thumb inside your fist,” Will suggested, “that way you won’t break it.” “Right, right, naturally,” Belle mumbled, and she didn’t know how they managed it. Stayed upright while his hand shifted further up the back of her shirt and her teeth grazed the curve of his jaw. She was on something of a mission, now. To cover every inch of his face. With her lips. “Anyway, as Anna told this wholly fascinating story, there was a lot of vodka involved, a very bad loss, some card game—” “—Kings.” “That’s a drinking game.” “Well, now you’re getting into unnecessary specifics.” Her body shook. Against Will’s. Who almost immediately groaned. Presumably at the location and exact angle of her hips. “Ok, so there were cards involved in your drinking game. Pizza was eaten, alcohol was downed in alarmingly large gulps.” “Editorializing a bit, mon bonheur.”

“What’s that one?” “Happiness.” “Oh, that one’s nice.” Will huffed. “They’re all super nice; I have a very large crush on you; I don’t want to talk about making out with Anna Vanklad anymore.”

He said it quickly, rushing over the words. Some might even say sweepingly. Where Belle was the some. In that instance, specifically. Someone, more like. She didn’t care. Was not spending even a second on proper sentence structure or appropriate internal grammar, was far too preoccupied with the circumference of Will’s eyes. And that one muscle in his jaw. Jumping with startling regularity, really. Totally different from her heart and her pulse and it was difficult to catch her breath.

Felt a bit like she’d played a hockey game.

A walking contradiction.

Where she also wasn’t walking anywhere. At all. Had absolutely no intention of walking away. From this.

“Was it not a good make-out?” “I honestly don’t remember a lot of it,” Will sighed, another roll of his neck. Something cracked. “That’s not game-related,” he added, and she could only imagine it had to do with the look on her face, “anyway, it was just...there was that vodka involved, and Vankald spent a ton of time at our apartment. She wasn’t Cap’s sister-in-law yet, but they’d grown up together, was my friend, and he’d fallen asleep, so…” “Figured you just make out?” “Not a lot of thought involved in it. She was a fixture, y’know? Shit, that sounds shitty. Does that sound super shitty?

“Drifting toward shitty, yeah.”

“Anna came to visit a lot because no matter what she may claim, she worries about Cap as much as anyone. Even El and Leader, and that’s—” “Wait, you have an Alien Leader you all report to?” “You’re ruining this story.” Her laugh got caught. Directly between them, all mouths and that goddamn hand, Belle’s neck tilting back on what might have been instinct and need, and she’d gasped more in the last four hours than she had in her entire life. “Tell me more about your Alien Leader, please.” “He only acts like an alien.” “Huh, that cleared up absolutely nothing.” “You should keep kissing me.” “Compare and contrast, huh?” Will groaned. Again. Part two. Let his mouth drag down the side of her throat, and Belle couldn’t stop laughing. Happiness poured out of her, new and a little strange in its quantity. As if she was made of the stuff, even worried as she was through all three periods. She’d kept wringing her fingers together. At one point, Anna had to hold her hand.

“Ruining,” another kiss, “this,” teeth on her collar bone, “baby girl.”

Suggesting that she lit up in a way that reminded her of a Christmas tree was—

Farcical, maybe.

Nothing inhuman happened. There were no bells. No whistles. No flashing neon lights suggesting this was the moment and a conversation regarding the man with his hand currently inching towards her right boob drunkenly making out with someone who wasn’t Belle should not have been so—

Fun.

God, it was fun. She was having fun. With him and because of him. Hockey nonsense aside.

Because, since coming to New York with her invisible tail tucked between her legs and the near-desperate desire to get away from that seaside town with its ghosts and its demands and its plan for a future that simply did not fit her anymore, Belle had tried. Really. To shed that persona. To be someone new. Hard as she tried, though, there were ties. Those lingering memories. Ones that dug in their heels, while she gripped others with both hands. She was, and she wasn’t. Small town and big town, a librarian who couldn’t care less about details while focusing on specifics with everything in her.

And none of it ever really made much sense.

Hurt her head to think about, everything she tried to contain and the worry that ate away at her sometimes. That she’d messed up, ruined all of it and—

She didn’t kiss Will’s mouth.

Peppered his face, instead. With her lips and the feelings behind them, mapping the space until she was certain she knew it as well as her own, and she wanted to. Wanted to learn everything about this guy who felt as jagged as she did, made up of right and wrong and mistakes and possibility and she knew it was only a matter of time before he got impatient.

She liked that about him.

That he didn’t always wait for her to catch up. Just knew that she would.

Plus, his tongue in her mouth was really something Belle was starting to appreciate. In an obsessive sort of way.

She might have groaned that time.

Fingers scrambled against the front of his shirt — team-branded, again, and that shouldn’t have been charming, but it was and likely would continue to be, and there were goosebumps on her skin. They were really very good at kissing. Each other, specifically.

“I like you, too,” Belle said, and it was a strange thing not to be embarrassed by the breathless nature of her voice.

Will’s chest was practically heaving, though. So that put them on even ground. Common ground, at least.

“You’re not mad?” “Give me some credit, sweetheart.” He chuckled, warm air against the top of her shoulder. “Was a very long time ago, for whatever that might be worth.” “Twelve galleons.” “I don’t know the conversion rate of that.” “No one does, so I think we’re all in the same boat.” “You don’t think Jo knows the conversion rate of her own fictional monetary system?” Belle shook her head. “I absolutely do not, because she was a shit world-builder and also a fairly terrible person now, so—” She shrugged. Will beamed. Some joke about a Christmas tree.

“So,” he echoed, “the thought of making out with Little Vankald has never once again crossed my mind.”

Someone scoffed. With entirely false indignation.

Using Will’s shoulder as leverage — the non-bruised one, naturally — Belle got enough height beneath her toes to see Anna cross her arms. And scowl at the pair of them. Badly. The scowl lasted all of five seconds before it evolved into its own rather uproarious laughter, another echo that filled the empty space of a concourse Belle could not imagine they were supposed to be standing on. Only a matter of time until someone else found them.

She wasn’t sure that was a bad thing, actually.

“That’s super rude, Scarlet,” Anna hissed, muffled footsteps that only lost their volume because of the overall status of Belle’s heart. Still trying to fly out of her. “But I want it noted, for the record and all that, that I don’t want to make out with you ever again, either.”

“Do you remember it being way wetter than it should have been?” “You problem, absolutely.” “I haven’t had that issue,” Belle argued, mostly to guarantee the quirk of Will’s lips. Worked like a charm. Or something less lame sounding. In her head. Most of this commentary was in her head.

“Lucky you,” Anna drawled.

“C’mon,” Will whined, “no one told you to start with this story.” “Start with, huh?” His eyes. Were becoming a serious problem and a growing majority in the basis for most of Belle’s heart-related issues, but she forced herself to meet his gaze and tilt her chin up and she didn’t think she imagined the way his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. In an appraising sort of way.

“I really would have told you. Eventually” “I know.” “I’m serious.” “I know,” Belle repeated, “and I’m really not threatened by someone who you still regularly refer to as Little Vankald.” Anna flipped him off. Or them, maybe. As a collective unit. Belle wanted them to be a collective unit. “I could order a jersey online, right?” “Nah, I know people, don’t waste your money.” “Could probably get Kris to help,” Anna added, “as the physical form of my apology.” Belle waved her off. “It was a good story. Highs, lows, drama, does your—do we call him your brother-in-law? He’s not the Alien Leader, right?” “You mean Liam?” Will’s laugh was more like a barely-contained snort of humor and shoulders that were tight for a reason that did not involve pessimistic emotions. Belle’s lips twitched. “Just knew that off the top of your head, did you?” she asked.

“If you knew Liam, you’d understand. Was Scarlet suggesting we’re all aliens?” “Nah, just him.” “I did no such thing,” Will objected, another glance in Anna’s direction, “Cap looking for us?” She nodded. “Locksley too. Should I be worried Mom and Dad are getting a divorce?” “You’re the most dramatic person alive.” “Lots of hand moving between the two of you, your girlfriend was worried.”

It was Belle’s turn to tense. With what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Some sort of emotion, she assumed. Adrenaline, maybe. Hope, possibly. And it wasn’t like she was waiting for labels, but she’d come to pretty good terms with her ability to counter herself in the midst of her own silent monologue, and Will was staring again. Straight through her, it seemed.

Or maybe directly into her.

That was sentimental, though.

“Does Killian know that you two made out once?” Anna hissed. “If you tell KJ about this, I will actually have to strangle you, no matter how much I like you and how much Scarlet wants to date you.” “Aren’t we dating already?” Anna opened her mouth, what Belle knew would be more sarcasm and the teasing nature of her and Will’s relationship, but she had more pressing issues, and he answered, anyway. “Yeah, we totally are, plus I like you way more than I hate Ariel’s inevitable victory lap, so I mean, that’s—” Cutting him off was rude. Not nice. Inevitable.

Based solely on the size of his eyes and their gold-like nature.

“I, uh—” Belle started, “I know we’re not supposed to accept the set-up, and Ariel’s going to be so annoying, but maybe we could…” She shrugged. Tried to stay focused. And upright. Continued standing seemed important in a moment like this. “We’re both kinda messed up, don’t you think?” “Little,” Will murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, and I know that we’re...I mean, this is good, and I’m mostly good with it, but also, I was super nervous during the game, and what were you guys fighting about?” “Fighting is a strong word. More like discussing how Locksley should learn to keep his stick on the ice so he can get that tip from my slap.” “Weird turn of phrase.” “Slap shot.” “No time for full terminology, huh?” “How goes the understanding icing battle?” She was going to sprain her cheeks. Maybe Ariel could help with that. After gloating. Ariel was absolutely going to gloat. “Getting there,” Belle promised, and it was not about hockey, “don’t you think?” “Mmhm.” “So, uh—I don’t know what you do after games, but…” “Little Vankald is totally here to drag us uptown because Cap regularly challenges her in the dramatics, and I bet he’s hungry.” “You eat after games?” “Ariel’s husband owns that restaurant.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s how I met her actually. Good onion rings. Weird we didn’t ever see each other there at the same time, though.” Will hummed. Stuck out his lower lip. Challenged her without saying anything, and Anna was still standing there, and security had to be aware of them, but Belle was in the middle of something, and it was good and great and made absolutely no sense because she was not a pro sports girlfriend, but the labels really weren’t important, and it was all—

She gasped. For, like, the four-thousandth time that night.

Saved the best for last, though.

Will’s mouth found hers in a crashing sort of way that altered the cosmos, or at least Belle’s perception of the world around her. Particularly when her hands were suddenly more like barnacles, gripping his shirt as if she was afraid he’d disappear otherwise. Knuckles cracked and breath caught, everything spinning and staying frustratingly still, and one of her heels popped out of her shoe. Pressing back up on her toes didn’t do her calves any favors, but she wasn’t bruised and they were both a disaster, and the tongue thing really was pretty fantastic.

Tracing the inside of her mouth and the seam of her lips, Will’s rumble of pleasure echoed between her ribs, enough to spur Belle’s arm up as she slung it around his neck. Her fingers found skin and short hair, nails scratching so she could hear that sound again.

She closed her eyes.

Let the details seep in, and settle into her soul.

Until Anna coughed, and there was a security guard standing next to her, and Will’s head dropped to Belle’s collar bone again. He kissed there, too. Before spinning on his sandals, all confidence, and bravado, a reasonable excuse that someone, somewhere, would probably believe. Not this security guard, but that probably wasn’t important, and Belle had helped Will make an Instagram account.

So, something about a cat and a bag and—

His fingers laced through hers.

“Wanna challenge Locksley to a fight for my honor?” She scrunched her nose. Pretended to grimace when his lips pressed against her cheek. Anna gagged. “Yeah,” Belle said, “that’s exactly what I want to do.”

#scarlet beauty #scarlet beauty ff #scarlet beauty fic #blue line one shots #defensive!blue line #i don't know guys—these have just taken on a life of their own #will i put them on ao3? maybe who can say #i mean i can #but...they're still kind of short i think #for ao3 #if any of the five you reading this want specific scenes let me know #i've got time between waiting on people to make their deadlines

16 notes · View notes