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smoooothoperator · 2 years

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Fake It Till You Make It

November: Come What May

Driver! Pierre Gasly x Actress! OC (Anellise Flinch)

Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers

Summary: can they be away? Or will the memories come back until make it unbearable?

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: break up, panic attack

a/n: i know all of you hate me! But hey! Here we have a new chapter. I really hope you like it. I'll take some days off, to write the last chapter and get better because right now my head and throat are killing me, thank God I finished this before getting sick.

Italics are flashbacks

"What do you mean?" Pierre frowned looking at her.

The moment he walked inside the bedroom and saw her with the suitcase, he felt his heart beating fast. And when she said those words he felt anxious, nauseous.

"I have to leave" she sighed biting her lip. "I'll start recording a new movie soon and I'll be away so many months" she said, not daring to look at him.

"Okay" he nodded confused. "I get it. But why you said we needed to talk?"

"We have to break up" she said. "The deal. Is already done. I talked with Marina some days ago, before going to Como. We are done"

"What?" He frowned, not understanding anything. "But... What about the rumours? We had the deal to stop them"

"There are no rumours anymore" she said, trying to stay calm. She wants to stay, be with him. But is her dream, her job. "I'll stop following you on media, and our interactions will be less. Just to let you know"

He can't understand who is the person that is in front of him. Where is the sweet Annelise that gave him love gazes? The one that held him when he was feeling down? Why is she talking so... Coldly?

"Why are you doing this?" he frowned looking at her. "Why are you leaving me? I thought... I thought there was something between us. I thought it wasn't a deal anymore"

She looked at him and swallowed thickly. Yeah, there's something between them.

"Why are you being so selfish?" he mumbled looking at her, hurt.

"It's my dream, Pierre" she said. "I'll be away four months! I... I can barely be away from you a week without feeling my heart call for you. How do you think it will be for four months? I need to be focused"

"And you can be focused" he said taking ateos closer to her. "Lis, please... Don't do this"

"I'm sorry, Pierre" she whispered feeling her heart breaking slowly. "I have to leave"

"No, please. Don't leave like this!" He exclaimed holding her hands. "Just... Think about it please. Think about us"

Us. Is there something like that? Something real?

"Give me time" she whispered. "I... I need to be focused, this is my dream. I need to do it right, Pierre"

She didn't want to cry, but he's making it too difficult. The way he was looking at her, how he held her hands. How, with his body language, he's begging her to stay with him.

"If Christian Horner asked you to go back to RedBull you would give up everything to sign with them" she said with tears in her eyes.

"But I wouldn't give up the woman I love, Annelise!"

The woman he loves? Did she heard right? Does he loves her?

"I have to leave, Pierre" she whispered chocking on her own tears.

"Promise me to text me" he mumbled wiping away her tears. He never liked seeing her cry, neither of happiness or sadness. "Please, Lis"

She looked at him and hugged his waist, hiding her face on his chest, her body shaking with the sobs. He held her close to him, hoping that it made her stay. But the moment she took a step back, he knew.

"Goodbye, Pierre Gasly" she whispered wiping away her tears with the palm of her hand, breathing in deeply and trying to relax. "It was so beautiful being your girlfriend"

He didn't stop her. He saw how she grabbed her suitcase and walked away, leaving the keys of his house on the small plate next to the door, and without looking back at him she walked out.

The house smells like her, smells like that perfume he gifted her one day they were walking around the shops in Milan. It smells like caramel and vanilla. And it makes his stomach drop, wanting to throw up. Her rooms still has some things, that gave him hopes. Maybe she left them on purpose letting him know she will come back.

He can't believe it. He let her slip through his fingers.

Going to the airport was a torture. It made her remember the first time she saw him, leaning on his blue Honda and trying to act cool. And now she's leaving without him. She doesn't know if he will forgive her, if he will ever forgive what she did.

He loves her. He said that. He said she's the woman he loves. And instead of staying and saying she loves him back, she just walked away, leaving him on the room without looking back. Because she knows that if she looked back at him she would have stayed, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

But life is hard. Love is hard. And even if she felt like if she was on a fairytale with Pierre, she knew that it had to end soon. They were going to have only one month more, the thought of still dating after that never crossed their minds. But maybe after this, that was something that won't happen ever.

When Annelise sat on the plane she sighed, grabbing her laptop and closing her eyes when she saw the wallpaper of it. A picture of them during a festival on America. Her mind played tricks with her making the memories come back.

"I have to tell you something" Pierre said smiling.

They where on the hotel in New York, sitting on the couch while reading some books the bought on a bookstore on the street. The original plan was going to Central Park and reading there, but a sudden summer storm made it completely impossible.

"Oh? What is it" she smiled sitting comfortably on the couch.

"I booked two tickets for a festival" he said. "A lantern festival"

"No way! You remembered!" She exclaimed leaving the book on her lap, looking at him surprised.

When they played that game of 20 questions, she told him that one of her favourite movies is Tangled. How she always wanted to be the real Rapunzel and be on the live action movie, experience the same thing she lived while looking the lanterns.

"Of course" he laughed. "It will be in two days"

She looked at him with the brightest smile she ever gave him, moving to be on top of him and kiss his lips.

Two days after, they were already on a rented car, going to that place that is five hours away to just see the lights. It was a movie, they were on her favorite movie and she couldn't help but feel like a toddler. She was the happiest, and he was with her. They stopped on a small market to buy things for dinner, a lantern and a blanket to lay on it.

She couldn't believe it yet even when they turned on the lantern, holding it and looking at each other. When they let it go she hugged him, resting her head on his chest making him rest his chin on top of her head.

"Wait" he smiled kissing the top of her head, pulling away from the hug and walking to the married couple that gave them the lighter. "Can you take a picture of us, please?"

They smiled and stood up, the man grabbed Pierre's phone and took pictures of them while the woman stood next to her husband, a big smile on her lips while looking at the pictures.

"You two look so lovely together" she smiled.

"Thank you" Annelise smiled at her, her heart getting warm by her words.

She swallowed hard, those memories hurting her. Did she make the right decision? Of course not. She loves him. But is the best for both of them.

He hated feeling that way. He hated walking in front of her room and opening the door all the times he walked on its way and look at ber things. It has been nearly two weeks. Two weeks with no answers, no news. He has no idea where is she right now, where is she recording. He tried to be like one of those fans that goes to the deepest wen and search information about the movie.

But the moment he realized he was acting like a freak he stopped. She asked him for time. He has to give her that, right? It's her dream, think about someone else will make it more difficult, right?

But he loves her! He told her he loves her! Why she didn't stayed? Maybe he wasn't clear enough, maybe he didn't say it out loud.

Brazil was hard. He tried to act like if everything was fine. Like if they were still being an item.

"Why did Annelise stop following you?" some media interviewrs asked him on his way to the paddock. "Why she's not here"

"Her account was hacked" he lied. "She's filming a new project" he excised himself, walking away and pressing his ID card on the scanner.

He tried to look happy, at least smiley, even if deep inside he was questioning everything. He didn't say it loud enough. Hs not enough for her.

"Hey, Pierre!" Charles smiled looking at him, but frowned the moment he saw his fake smile. "Oh, what happened?"

"Hm? No, nothing" he said, brushing out the topic. "Just tired. Jet lag, you know"

"Then it's not about why Annelise stopped following you on Instagram?" he said rising an eyebrow. "Come on, you can tell me"

He looked at the Ferrari driver and took a deep breath, swallowing thickly and licking his lips.

"She left" he said making sure no one was around. "She left because of work. The deal is broken, whatever we had is broken"

Charles looked at the Frenchman and sighed, patting his back and giving him a sad smile.

"You and I know it's not broken" he sighed.

"Really? Is not? Because I think she left it clear leaving me and not looking back" he groaned. "I want to be mad. I really want to get all the things she left on my house and burn them, or throw them away. But I can't! Because I love her so damn much that it hurts. The other day I went to her room to grab a thing I needed and it still smells like her".

Charles sighed looking at him. The time they were together, even if it was fake, they spent time the three of them. Sometimes they even had double dates on Milan or Monaco. And somehow he felt how much she loved him too. But when Pierre told him that she left, it left him confused. Maybe everything was an act?

"If you don't talk to her you won't know what is going on in her mind" Charles frowned.

Pierre sighed, looking how his friend walked inside the red building. He tried to talk with her, but everytime he goes to the chat the share, he doesn't know what to write. That he misses her? Well, it's true. When will she come back? He doesn't want to put pressure on her, he knows she wants to focus. Does she love him as much as he does? He write that every hour of every day, but deletes it before sending it, leaving the chat with no new messages.

He wants to go a month back, right when their bond was the best. He wants to go back to when they spent days together on his apartment or when they went around places to explote. He wants to live on those days everything was perfect and he could love her.

She was asleep next to him, her golden hair was spread all over his arm while her head was on his chest. She looks like an angel, he thought.

Last night he came from an sponosor event, and when he walked inside his room he found her sleeping on his bed with one of his shirts. He smiled softly, taking off his clothes and sitting on the bed next to her, laying slowly and wrapping his arm around her.

"Hm? Pierre?" she mumbled opening her eyes slowly, snuggling closer to him.

"I'm sorry I came late, the event was longer than I thought" he whisper covering themselves with the blanket, kissing her forehead and holding her closer.

"It's okay" she jawned, leaning on him and relaxing on his arms, falling asleep again.

Everytime they shared a bed he fell more for her, holding her, knowing their hearts were beating at the same time, same speed. How her breath dtickled his chest, how her scent was all the breathed at night, making his nostrils memorize that perfume of roses, caramel, popcorn and vanilla. It become his new favorite scent.

When the light of the dah started to bright the room he was the first to wake up, hugging her tighter making her wake up too. They spent some minutes there, holding each other on the bed and breathing deeply, looking out of the window.

"It seems that it will rain soon" she whispered rubbing her eyes with her fingers. "The sky is ugly grey"

"Yeah, I read about it yesterday" Pierre whispered playing with her hair.

"You know what it means?" she smiled looking up at him with a smile. "Stay at home and do things together"

He laughed at that, hugging her with both of his arms and kissing her head while she giggled.

Days together were their favorite, doing absolutely nothing but at the same time a lot. They spent the day reading, or making cookies. While he played on the simulator of his office she lated on the floor surrounded by cushions and with her legs on the glass, reading the new book she bought, one she already read not long ago but got it on Italian so she could learn more than she already knows. When Pierre finished his lap he went towards her, laying next to her on the same position.

"What are you reading?" He asked her, letting her rest her head on his arm.

"Normal People" she smiled looking at him, pecking his lips. "Can I try the simulator?"

"Of course" she smiled, letting her sit and get up before him.

He adjusted the seat and settings for her, searching an easy track where she could race. The moment she grabbed the wheel and started to drive he was impressed, how easy she made it.

"Oh god, this is so funny!" she exclaimed, looking how she overtook some cars.

He looked at her, falling more and more, seeing how she drove with a big smile on her lips and not taking her eyes out of the screen, how the tip of her tongue was trapped between her teeth. Everything of her is perfect. She is perfect for him. He can't wait to tell her his feeling. But, when?

It hurts. It hurts so much knowing that she's on his mind all the time and he can't have her in front of him. It hurts how his mind is laughing at him for falling for her, showing him all those memories and torturing him. It hurts.

She looked at the cars on her screen, her eyes going to the table at the left of it, searching his initials.

She tried to stay away from him. But the fact that she's still wearing the necklace that matches with his, and wears the perfume he gifted her it makes her impossible to not think about him. Her heart aches for him, and she hates it.

"You okay?" Timothée asked her, sitting on the chair next to hers.

"Yeah. Just... Watching him" she sighed, her heart beating faster when the cameras were following his car during his lap.

"Your boyfriend?" her cast mate asked and friend asked her. "Pierre Gasly?"

"Yeah..." she sighed. "Tim, I miss him so damn much. I regret everything I did"

When the whole cast was reunited to record the film, Annelise and Timothée spent most of the time together, as well as Zendaya did with them. The three of them were together most of the time, and when she couldn't hold it anymore, she told them everything she was carrying on her heart. How she regrets leaving Pierre, hoe much she loves and misses him. And they were there for her, to keep her company and make sure she felt supported. Because being away from a loved one is hard, everyone knows it. And she's not the exception.

"Why don't you call him, Anne?" he sighed looking at her, watching the screen of her phone too.

"He hates me, I left him" she mumbled.

If only she knew...

"I'm sure he doesn't" he said wrapping an arm around her to comfort her.

They were recording on the dessert of Abu Dhabi. She was so close and at the same time so far from him. He doesn't know she's there, and it will be better if it stays like that. She didn't have to film on this place, but didn't want to be alone, so she travelled with all the team, going to all the places and helping with everything she could do.

That day was a hot day, and the fact that she knew that Pierre was on the same place, if made her more unfocused. She was on her own world, looking at his practices, cheering silently for him. The day was going great, at the moment.

The make up artist called her because they needed her to check a new make up and hair style, making her stop watching and go to the traiker were the team was.

"I think that for your own health and with all the heat here, it will the best if we cut your hair instead of using the wig, what do you think?" the hair stylist proposed her with a smile.

"Oh... Okay" she nodded, feeling her heart beat fast. They were going to cut her hair, the hair Pierre loved to play with.

She sat there, letting them do their thing, not noticing the necklace breaking after a rough movement of the hair artist when the robe got stuck on it. Less than an hour passed and her hair was done, cut over her shoulders.

"You look so beautiful" Zendaya smiled hugging her.

"He liked my hair" she mumbled touching it, how straight it was and ended on her shoulders.

After that she went to her trailer, getting ready to have a shower and take off all the sample hair that was on her back, itching a little. She got undressed after opening the water key, sigheknd while looking at her hair in the mirror.

And then her eyes fell on her chest. They nacklace is not there anymore.

"No, no, no, no, no" she mumbled looking around anxious.

She can lose her long hair, but not the necklace. Not his necklace.

She wrapped her body with the robe and walked around the trailer, searching for the necklace. She looked between the chusions of the couch, on her bed, on all her clothes, on the floor under the table, on her bag. But she couldn't find it. And it made her panic more.

She walked out of the trailer, her eyes scanning all the place. The floor, all the places she was on that day. The chair where she sat with Timothée, where she huddled Zendaya after she finished filming a scene, on the catering zone under the table, on the othing trailer. Then she went to the hair and make up trailer, the last place she was in.

"Sarah... Please tell you found a necklace here while cleaning" she said with tears in her eyes.

"Oh?" The brunette woman frowned looking at her. "Yeah, I think I did".

Annelise felt how a weight left her shoulders, but the moment when the hairdresser turned around and showed her the broken necklace.

"Is it yours?" the woman asked her and she swallowed thickly while nodding. "Oh... The chain is broken"

Annelise looked at it, feeling how her chest started to ache. It's broken. The necklace is broken.

They were walking around Tokyo, the neon light shining on the night. Yuki asked them to join him for dinner on one of his favorite restaurants, so they were making their own way to meet the young driver.

"Oh, look!" Annelise smiled, holding his hand and pushing him with her to one of the small tables that was outside a small store.

It was a jewelry store, with small things. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings. She looked at all of them carefully with a smile on her lips.

"Oh, hi" the woman smiled making a bow, talking with a perfect English, making Annelise and Pierre smile relieved and look at the woman.

"Hi" Pierre and Annelise smiled giving the woman a bow too.

"Did something catch your eyes?" the woman asked with a smile, looking at them.

Pierre smiled, scanning his eyes all over the table until he saw two necklaces. One was golden and other silver, the golden one bad a 'P' on it and the silver one an 'A' on it. It was a section with initials, but the cat that those two letters were together made him smile.

"How much for those two?" he said pouting with his finger to the necklaces.

"2000 yen" she smiled looking at the couple.

"Then I want them" Pierre smiled, grabbing his wallet and two bills of 1000 yen, handing them to the woman.

Annelise was looking at him blushing. Did he really bought a couple necklace?

"Here" Pierre smiled, grabbing the golden necklace and putting it around her back, clipping it on her nape. "See? You look better with golden jewelry" he said winking at her.

"Are you okay, Annelise?" the hairdresser asked her frowning.

She just nodded, holding the necklace on her chest and walking out of the trailer. On her way to her personal trailer she bumped into Timothée, but since she was looki g stt he floor hiding her tears, she didn't notice him.

"Annelise?" the man frowned following her with his eyes, and when he saw that she locked herself on the trailer, he knew something was wrong.

He frowned walking towards the door knocking on it softly. Zendaya showed up, and when she saw the frown on her friend's face she knew something happened with Annelise.

"Anne... open the door, sweety" Zendaya sighed knocking on it, talking softly. But when they heard sobs coming from inside their worry grew more.

She felt stupid, crying over a necklace. But it wasn't a simple necklace. It was the nacklace with his initial, the 'P' engraved on it. It was the necklace that stayed on her chest, close to her heart, for the last month. She never took it out, and when she had to do that, she always tried to wear it until the last moment before recording a new scene. It was a way of having him with her, of having Pierre near her heart.

But now it's gone. He's gone. And it was because her fault, because she walked away. She should have asked him to keep the relationship, to forget about the deal and keep dating. But all she did was think about a dream. But what is a dream if you are not enjoying it with your lived ones, sharing the experience.

She heard the knocks on the door, and standingnuo while cleaning the tears out of her face, she ooened it, letting her friends walk in and wrap his arms around her.

"What happened, An?" He asked her.

"The necklace" she whispered showing them the golden chain broken.

Zendaya looked carefully at it and sighed. They are done with her suffering. It's not fair seeing her on this state and not doing anything for her.

"Tell me what you need" Timothée whispered cupping the cheeks of his friend and wiping away her tears. "Tell us what do you need and we will be there to make it, okay? It hurts seeing you so sad"

She looked at her two friends. It makes her happy have them there, supporting her. But they are not what she needs right now.

"She needs him" Zendaya whispered, looking how Annelise closed her hand around the necklace and placing her fist on her chest.

He finished the second practice and media duties quicker thank he expected, all being so smooth and congratulating him for a nice finish on P7.

His day was going good, but the moment he walked inside his room on the hospitality after taking a shkeer and saw three missed calls he frowned. And when he saw who called he panicked.

It was her. She called him. Three times. And he wasn't there.

So he called back immediately. The tones made his heart beat fast and breath get faster, heavy

"Pierre?" someone talked at the other side. That's not Annelise.

"Who are you?" he frowned, looking to a fix spot on the wall.

"I... I'm Timothée, Annelise's cast mate" the voice said and Pierre sighed. Timothée Chalamet, the lead of the movie she's recording, Dune.

"Oh... why are you calling?" He sighed closing his eyes.

"She needs you" the other man said, making Pierre open his eyes quickly and frown. "Look. She has been miserable all this recent days and we can't handle anymore. But today happened something that really made her have a breakdown, and we don't know anything else to do".

He didn't say anything, all the information getting inside his brain, processing it slowly.

"I know you might feel like this or worse... But please, if you love her, if you really do, come to her" Timothée begged.

Pierre frowned getting up from the couch. He doesn't even know what to do. What he can do? He doesn't know where she is, how is she. Does she know her friends are calling him with her phone?

"We are in Abu Dhabi too" Timothée said quckly, making Pierre stop breathing.

Too? How does he know he is in Abu Dhabi?

"She was watching all your races, Pierre..." he sighed. "We finished our recording day and are heading to the hotel"

"Where is it? I'll be there" he said quickly, holding the phone on his ear with his shoulder while he packed all his things inside the backpack.

Timothée told him in which hotel they were staying and Pierre made his way out of the hospitality, bumping into Charles.

"Hey, mate" Charles laughed looking at him. "Why the rush?"

"I found her" he said quickly, hugging him. "I found her!"

He left Charles looking at him confused, but the moment he started run through the paddock, the Monegasque smiled proud.

He went to his car, ignoring as much fans as he could, and drove out of the parking lot. He asked Siri to guide him to the hotel she was staying and when he found it he parked the car quickly, not caring if he locked it or not.

He ran issude the hotel, not looking around to check the interior design, and went to the elevator pressing the button of the floor where she was. He looked at the mirror, fixing his hair with his shaking hands. He took a quick shower but couldn't fix his hair, making it look messy. But that's nothing compared of how messy his heart is beating inside his chest.

He walked slowly, feeling his heartbeat on his ears, and tried to calm himself before knocking on the door. He did it three times, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

It's not the first time he sees her having a panic attack, so he knows that what she needs right now is someone calmed.

It was 3 a.m and he felt the bed empty when he turned around. It was weird. She always slept like a baby next to him.

Pierre got up, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand and walked around the apartment searching her, and when he saw the light of the kitchen on he walked inside of it. What he didn't expect was finding her on the floor, curled on herself and shaking.

"Lis?" he frowned kneeling in front of her. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I fucked up" she whispered. "I fucked up so bad"

"What? What happened?" he whispered holding her hands.

"I was doing the interview, the one I told you I was going to do at night because it was for an American show" she whispered, her voice shaking.

"Now it make sense why you look so beautiful" he smiled looking at her, hoping to make her smile, and holding her making her sit on his lap.

"I just talked about the bad relationship with Olivia" she mumbled, chocking on her own sobs and not being able to breathe well. "I... Fuck, I told everyone how bad she was with me, with everyone"

"Hey" he whispered cupping her cheeks and making her look at me. "Breathe with me, okay? Then you can tell me everything that happened"

She looked at him with panic on her eyes and nodded. Pierre placed her hands on his bare chest, holding them there with his own hands on top of hers, and started to breathe in slowly through his nose while looking into her eyes. She imitated him, or at least she tried at first. And when she got it, she closed her eyes and rested her head on his neck, hugging him close.

"I don't know what I would do without you Pierre" she whispered, her breath brushing his bare chest making him shiver.

He saw how the door opened slowly, a tall brunette woman he recognized looked at him.

"Pierre" Zendaya smiled looking at him. "Thank you, really. She really needs you"

Pierre nodded, walking inside the room and sighing when he saw her there, laying on the bed while hugging a pillow like she used to hug him.

"I'll leave you two alone, okay?" Zendaya smiled walking towards Annelise, kissing her temple and looking up at Pierre.

He didn't see Zendaya closing the door, his eyes are only for her. For the woman she loves.

Pierre walked slowly towards the bed, laying on it and taking off the pillow. He observed her with attentive eyes. Her hair is short, lips dry because of the sun and cheeks wet. Her left hand was on a fist, holding something close to her chest

"I'm here" he whispered, holding her close. "I'm here, my love. I won't leave, okay?"

"Pierre?" she whispered opening her eyes slowly, more tears showing on her eyes. "Tell me this is not a dream... Please tell me you are real"

"I'm real" he whispered wiping away her tears, kissing her forehead. "I'm going to stay with you, okay? Forever"

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saltygilmores · 2 years

Text

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls,Season 1-Episode 1 ("Pilot")

I've decided I'm going to rewatch Gilmore Girls from the beginning and post all of my old episode reviews from Twitter. These are from my last full run through the series which began in 2020. Yeah, it's been a while. I watched the series for the first time in 2016, but didn't do it again until 2020 when I needed a distraction during lockdowns. When I was finished that run, I immediately watched it all over again. I reviewed every season but AYITL and season 5, but who cares, that's the Logan season. Time to bring my tweets that nobody read the first time to another social media platform where they'll be even more ignored! Let's go! June 26,2020: GeeGees, Season 1, Episode 1, Holy Shit, I'm really Doing This shit AGAIN, I need a Job, Someone please hire me. The only time I'll EVER be thankful for Dean is that season 1 is such a bore that his awfulness is the only interesting thing to write about. It will give me something to do. Thanks for nothing, a-hole. I am 100% Anti-Dean-Forrester. Let us proceed. Lorelai looking at Luke like a snack 1 minute into the series and CAN YOU BLAME HER?

"Oh yeah. Pour that coffee. Sloowwwwly. Yeah." Omg you two. Get a fucking ROOM. Don't wait like, 5 seasons to do it either! Now! Macy Gray! Dated reference! It's been a while since I've heard one of those on the show. #ItryToSayGoodbye #AndIChoke #TryToWalkAway #AndIStumble No I'm serious that sexual tension between L&L already is crackling. It's palpable. You could practically eat it. "Boys don't like funny girls." Well that explains why I'm still single.

Michel is an icon.

These Stars Hollow "teens" look like they've all been left back a few years.

Chock Full O Nuts coffee (Drella's tip jar) is yet another cheap, common, supermarket brand coffee in a town that prides itself on it's local coffee shop.

WHAT IS GOING ON BEHIND LORELAI! It was not a painting! It was a man standing in a doorway! That guy never moved! Hold me!

I am a person infinitely curious about tiny details. She has a professional looking posed picture of her and Rory in Luke's Diner like they own the place, although the length of Luke and Lorelai's friendship as of the pilot is unclear. And whose dog is that?

I'm sorry but who the fuck asked?

Is getting hit by a bus a job? They're hiring. (this is funnier now that I know Milo wanted Jess to get hit by a bus. No, really).

Of course you don't, you boring, humorless, joyless garbageperson

The answer should be "plotting my escape". #RunRory #Run #Danger

You mean the Garbage Person standing in front of you, right Rory?

Don't try to discuss literature with her, you ass clown.

My feed is now cursed.

Is the first episode in the series the only time they actually show Rory and Lorelai paying Luke for their food? I guess everything's on the house as long as Luke is trying to get into Lorelai's pants. You're gonna be playing the long game, pal.

Hmm. Right. Sure. Dean Forrester. Cute. I think someone needs an eye exam.

You are very similar. You're both in love with Dean.

Now now Lorelai, your future nephew won't arrive for another season. "If you're going to throw your life away, he better have a motorycle!" Thanks Lorelai, that was already my plan.

Huhuhuh. These two.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls pilot #gilmore girls season 1 #luke danes #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #Denise Rewatches Gilmore GIrls #Pilot

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mybookplacenet · 2 years

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Featured Post: The Christmas Letters by Jenny Hale

About The Christmas Letters: Sometimes, it takes losing everything to find what it is we really need. From the USA Today bestselling author of Coming Home for Christmas, with over one million copies of her books sold, comes a heartwarming holiday story that’s perfect for fans of Sheila Roberts, Debbie Macomber, and Jill Shalvis. Elizabeth Holloway abandons her New York party at The Plaza, her sparkling world crashing down around her when her boyfriend of seven years drops the bomb that he’s leaving her—at Christmas. She suddenly finds herself seven hundred miles from her home in the city, trudging through the snow, back at her childhood farm in the Great Smoky Mountains in an attempt to piece her life back together. However, she isn’t expecting to meet visitor Paul Dawson with his dazzlingly blue eyes and warm smile, chipping away at her resolve to focus on figuring out who she is and what she really wants in life. When her mother is informed that they don’t actually own the farm that’s been in their family for generations, the news makes absolutely no sense to either of them. Nan had married Elizabeth’s grandfather at that house, and they’d lived out their years there. But a stack of letters from Elizabeth’s grandmother will change everything she thought she knew about her family and cause a divide between her and Paul that she never saw coming. Under the glitter of Christmas trees and bundles of mistletoe, Elizabeth uncovers more than she’d ever thought possible. Will the Christmas letters strip her of everything she holds dear? Or will they be the biggest gift of the season? A heartwarming holiday escape that will have you rushing to your loved ones this Christmas. If you enjoyed the Christmas movies based on Jenny’s books and are looking for more feel-good, small-town romance, look no further! Targeted Age Group: 18+ Written by: Jenny Hale Buy the ebook: Buy the Book On Amazon Author Bio: Jenny Hale is a USA Today and international bestselling author of romantic contemporary fiction, with over a million copies of her books sold. Her books have sold worldwide, have been translated into multiple languages, and adapted for television. Her novels Coming Home for Christmas and Movie Guide Epiphany Award winner Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses are Hallmark Channel original movies. She was included in Oprah Magazine’s “19 Dreamy Summer Romances to Whisk You Away” and Southern Living’s “30 Christmas Novels to Start Reading Now.” Her stories are chock-full of feel-good romance and overflowing with warm settings, great friends, and family. Jenny is at work on her next novel, delighted to be bringing even more heartwarming stories to her readers. When she isn’t writing, or heading up her romantic fiction imprint Harpeth Road, she can be found running around her hometown of Nashville with her husband, two boys, and their labradoodle, taking pictures—her favorite pastime. Follow the author on social media: Learn more about the writer. Visit the Author's Website Facebook Fan Page Twitter Instagram Read the full article

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hpdabbles · 2 years

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PLEASE I NEED MORE EDITOR REGULUS AU

Harry stares at the parchment that Regulus Black gave him. It's a lot like a regular business card except for the large blue number at the right corner, the phone number being replaced by an owl address, and a winking photo of the editor.

If what Hermione said is true, the number in the corner matches a corresponding page with the same number that Mr. Black has at home, bond in a specialized wizarding notebook set to vibrate when someone uses it.

He knows that tapping his wand to the blue-ink word Contact will alert Mr. Black that he wishes to speak to him faster than an owl can reach him. The man would not know what Harry wants but he would know instantly that Harry needed him.

It's a little sad that it's one of the first times an adult has a way for Harry to immediately contact them and he tries not to think about it. That's easier said than done when the last few weeks have left Harry with nothing but his thoughts.

His schoolmates had gone from hostile to pity in a whiplash of a reaction to the Daily Prophet article dedicated to the tournament and him.

Mr. Black printed the story he told Harry he would, painting him as a poor young wizard, being forced by the system in partaking in dangerous events against his will. He also included the school's negative reaction, the staff's incompetence in handling the situation, the lack of legal representation for Harry and practically laid all blame on the headmaster.

The last part made Harry vivid. It was not Headmaster Dumbledore's fault that someone was out to kill him again, if anything the headmaster was the first to believe Harry about adding his name but Mr. Black is a really good writer.

After reading the article, it left the Boy-Who-Lived wondering just why the Headmaster had not done things legally to get Harry out of the situation.

It made him feel guilty for doubting the grandfatherly man but Dumbledore had practically shrugged his shoulders at a student getting past his security measures if it had been Harry or someone else an unknown adult with unknown agendas.

Since Hogwarts was also hosting students from other countries, Mr. Black pointed out that such a lack of urgency could have landed the Ministry of Magic in hot water with the allies participating in the tournament. It could have turned into an international issue, but for some reason, the Headmaster just didn't seem to care.

One has to wonder, my dear readers, if the Headmaster truly cares about any of his students' safety when one is so obvious danger stands before him and yet he leaves him to die.

Mr. Black may as well had slapped him with those few words.

Harry avoided everyone now that they were trying to apologize and assure him they would be there for him. As if though, they hadn't ostracized Harry, mocked him for his attention-seeking ways, and sneered that Cedric was the only Hogwarts champion.

This false support made him itch.

Ron had yet to speak to him, taking this as another way for Harry to gain sympathy, Hermonie was trying her best to support him but she was just out of depth in what to do and now the article made Harry doubt he could go the headmaster or any other staff member.

It's been so long since he felt this crippling lonely.

He wishes he could speak to Sirius, but his godfather had not sent any more topical birds and he didn't want to accidentally expose him if he tried to reach out.

Maybe that is why he was considering this. It's not Sirius, but Mr.Black has shown already he is eager to help, even if it was just to have a story to print.

Maybe he just wanted an adult to help.

Harry sighs, then careful he taps his wand alerting the man before he can back out. The number glows, shifting into the word Sent and he waits.

The next morning, Mr. Black is sitting in the Gryffindor Common room sipping a cup of tea. He's wearing dress robes, his hair perfectly groom and the air around him regal in a way only the aristocrats can be despite the early hour and the huffing Professor Mcgonagall at his side.

The students are all staring, whispering to each other in an urgent bewildered voice. Harry only has a few seconds to blink before the visitor spots him.

Putting down his cup on the saucer, the man offers Harry the warmest of smiles. It...well it makes him glow and Harry hurriedly looks away, nervous all of a sudden.

"Good morning Mr. Potter. I am glad you contacted me. I came as soon as I could." The man says causing the head of Gryinddor to tsk.

"Too soon. Four in the morning, honestly, have you no shame?"

"I do not sleep professor, so I do apologize for the inconvenience of my arrival."

"...What do you mean you do not sleep?"

Mr.Black only smiles before turning his attention back to Harry. He stands from his seat, placing a hand between the Boy-Who-Lived shoulders, steering him away from the eyes watching them.

The editor struts them- and his stride could be nothing more than a strut- right out of the common room, wiggling a scroll of parchment at Proffesopr Mcgonagall

The woman had been on the verge to protest but whatever he was holding had her pressing her lips together in an angry thin line. She does not comment, silently resign. The tower falls silent as the Fat Lady watches them go.

"Anyhow, I do believe we must sit down and work out all the paperwork before we do anything else. Have you been able to get your guardians to sign?"

"Ugh, yes," Harry responds, rubbing his hair. He shifts on his feet feeling suddenly very underdress in his striped pajamas before the editor. He is not the only one dressed this way, as everyone had practically just woken up but still. "They seemed excited about it"

Not something Harry understands. His uncle had sent a letter saying It's about time and if that wasn't alarming, he didn't know what was. Why would the muggle care that Harry is talked about in wizarding media?

"Perfect! I do appreciate your efficiency. This will make the Magical ward process much faster-"

"The what?"

"Ward process. I making you my ward as a favor for a fellow old dog of ours. I already had everything in place I just needed your old guardians to sign over their rights to keep you and for you to show a desire to want me around. You shall never return to the Dursleys again, the dog was very insistent of that. "

Harry's jaw drops. "How? Doesn't that take time?"

Mr. Black's smile turns sharp, and the locket around his neck almost seems to swing by an invisible force. "It does not take time if one knows how to...encourage officials into working at a faster pace."

"Did...you blackmail them?"

"Of course! What journalist wouldn't?"

Oh well, okay.

Harry wants to ask how but he doesn't think he'll get an answer-

"I found out that one of them has a second secret family, the other is a werewolf, four of the board may be involved in some illegal dragon trade, and the last one I slept with." Mr. Black whispers from the corner of his mouth, looking ahead as though he hadn't just read Harry's mind. "Once the ink dries on your ward placement I shall make some interesting articles about them."

"Won't that...ruin them?"

"If they have secrets, they do not want to be exploited, they need to hide them better. Besides, why should I care about the lives of distasteful men?"

"....You slept with one"

"Yes, and it was distasteful."

Harry wonders if it was a good idea to call the man at all. "The werewolf? Do you not like werewolves?"

"I don't have much of a opinion of them. If I were to pick a magical creature to spend time with, I would pick a house elf. There is no need to worry, my fling and the werewolf I'll leave out of the articles. Neither are crimes, so they won't sell my papers. I enjoy knowing people's secerts but often they don't have much value besides blackmail." Mr.Black tilts his head, expression fond as if remembering a treasured memory. " I caused a riot once at Hogwarts when I leaked a few as a student. It was humorous."

Harry wonders if Sirius knew his brother had been mad from a young age.

#hpdabbles #Harry Potter #Editor Au #Part 2 #Regulus is barely a functioning member of society #His writing holds a chock hold on the media #Harry finds him pretty #Harry doesn't know if he wants to be him or not

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retrogalwrites · 3 years

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Title: “Shigaraki and the perfect girl” / see on ao3

Pairing: Incel!Shigaraki x f!reader

Summary: Shigaraki has a crush on what seems to be the perfect girl who everyone loves, and becomes obsessed with the idea of corrupting her.

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, virginity fetishization, dub con, creepy behavior, stalking, manipulation and somnophilia with a twist

Contents: creampie, vaginal sex, breeding kink, scent kink (in a gross way), mating press, slight dumbification, corruption kink

Word: 4873

Shigaraki had been watching you from the very beginning, all through your high school years. It hadn't been much of his fault, he always told himself, when your existence alone did nothing but to stand out.

You had always been the center of attention, the most popular girl in the entire school, little Miss Perfect. With your good grades, unrivaled beauty, hordes of friends, admired by all students and professors alike. Being always so kind and innocent, with a friendly demeanor towards everyone, including an unwanted outcast like Shigaraki.

On his end, he had always been the creepy one, the strange one, the antisocial one that sneered at others and cursed them under his breath. Everyone avoided him like the plague, at least whenever they weren't too busy tormenting him, all too eager to remind him of how unwanted he was.

The complete opposite of you, Shigaraki was a social pariah.

On your third year, whenever other students would bully him publicly, give him looks and tell him how gross and disgusting he looked, you always had to come right to his rescue.

"Stop it, guys! That's no way to treat someone." You'd say softly, standing between him and his tormentors like some kind of protector. "Leave him alone, would you?"

And they couldn't say 'no' to you, no one could. Reluctantly they would give in to your heartfelt request and leave him be, those fools always dancing on the palm of your hand, but who could blame them? The hottest girl in class, lusted after by every boy in school, including Shigaraki himself, there was no way anyone could resist doing whatever you wanted them to. So pretty, so sweet, so perfect.

You had it all so easy, didn't you?

Shigaraki hated you for that, deeply and passionately loathed your very existence, a resentment that only grew stronger every time you would turn around, with that expression full of concern, to ask if he was okay.

Yes, he hated you for that. He also desired you for that, adored you in fact, wanted you as badly as any other buffoon in your class did. But not in the same way as them. No, when you looked at him with those sparkly eyes, pouting lips, leaning over his desk to give him an eyeful of your chest straining against the fabric of your school uniform, the feelings that stirred inside him were ugly and suffocating, something too depraved to be love.

When the other guys glared at him for having your attention even for a minute, it made his heart beat faster, it made his blood boil as his hands itched to grab you and destroy you, bend you over his desk and tainting every corner of your body right in front of them.

"You're lucky [name] takes pity on your sorry ass, Shigaraki." One of his bullies would scoff, once you were out of earshot.

"I didn't fucking ask her to. Maybe the bitch has crush on me, huh?" He'd spat back with vitriol, just to be met with a kick to the shin. As he hunched over in pain, he'd always hear those same words.

"Know your damn place, freak. A crush? Please, she's too perfect for you."

And they were right, so very right, but it only made Shigaraki want you more, more, more. His infatuation was warped with the thought of revenge, the desire of getting back at everyone by taking you away for himself, and to get back at you simply for daring to exist.

So Shigaraki would curse you in his mind, every single day, and then every night he'd spent it pleasuring himself to fantasies of you, sometimes holding the items he had stolen from you in the past (a gym shirt, your lip balm, the pencil you'd chew on during class). Creating scenarios where he'd get you alone to taint you, destroy you, turn you into dust and ashes with his own hands until he had dragged you down to his own level: a freak, a pariah, the lowest of the low.

If only he had the guts to do it, if only he could admit to himself that he wanted to do it at all, for real.

—————

After graduation, not seeing you for the following months pushed his mind deeper into that brewing obsession, drove him mad with it.

Shigaraki stalked your social media, watching his phone all day to make sure he didn't miss any of your publications and updates, downloading every selfie you uploaded to keep for himself and fap to later. His infatuation had been growing more and more out of control with each passing day, you invaded his thoughts every waking hour.

And yet Shigaraki told himself that it was really only a coincidence that he had ended up in the same college as you. Despite having read through a conversation on the comments from one of your posts on your Instagram a month or so before graduating, about your college prospects. Despite writing down those prospects to later tell his school advisor that he wanted to get into that same school. Despite having begged his father to send him there despite the inconvenient distance away from home in his daily commute, despite having chosen a major he didn't care about just to be in the same class as you.

His self-denial kept that obsession barely restrained, keeping it from pouring out into reality, and you also had to ruin that.

"Tomura!" You had approached him on the first day at campus, excitedly calling his name with such familiarity. The sound made his breath hitch and his cock twitch inside his pants, stomach fluttering.

"Oh, umm...hey." He chewed on his chapped lip, looking away as he lied through his teeth. "Didn't expect to see Miss Perfect here, of all people."

Despite of his dismissive tone being cold as ice, you kept smiling at him, only laughing as if he had been joking.

"It's so good to see a familiar face, you know? Come, sit next to me!!" You had grabbed his hand without a second thought, pulling him along with you into the classroom. People already whispering just from seeing you two walking together hand in hand: a breathtaking beauty like you and him, a disheveled mess, who had been wearing the same dirty hoodie for already a week.

Yet you didn't let go of his hand, even when he had already started to sweat and his palm got all clammy against yours, you didn't let go. The thought of rubbing off his filth onto your skin filled him with joy.

You really were a fucking idiot.

Holding hands with your stalker so casually, with the guy that wanted to ravish you in a dark corner, break you with his cock until you were screaming his name, and make you beg for your life like a pathetic bitch. Yes, that's what he wanted to do, more than anything in the world. He wanted to destroy you, to violate you, to break you, to make you his. Those weren't fantasies, it was reality.

Shigaraki used that same hand to jerk himself off that night in his dorm, imagining that it was you being forced to stroke his throbbing cock. He imagined that you would be so disgusted by his filthy self, your clear skin getting all of his dirt rubbed all over, fat tears streaming down your face as he forced you to open your mouth and take him in until you chocked on his cock.

Soon enough, he was thrusting into his fist, cumming all over himself until his cock softened, and his hands and abdomen were covered in his sticky semen.

What would you do if you found out that the guy you had been so kind to all these years wanted to hurt you so badly? Shigaraki imagined the despair on your face, and soon he was hard again.

—————

For most people, life after high school plays differently. Once you get to college, popularity contests become a thing of the past...but not for you, it seemed. During that first semester, Shigaraki had to watch how everyone around you was back to fawning all over you. Stumbling over themselves to ask you out to parties and dates (how many times did he overhear guys talking about what they wanted to with your tits and ass?), professors favoring you for your perfect grades, everyone adoring you as the perfect girl once again.

He was still an unwanted pariah, ignored by everyone, looked at with scorn by others. Except whenever you gave him your attention, of course, only then did people want to get all buddy-buddy probably hoping to get to you with his help.

God. He fucking hated you. And he fucking wanted you.

One day, he finally snapped.

Shigaraki decided that he was going to have you before anyone else got the chance to put their hands on you, the perfect girl that everyone loved so much, would belong to the guy everyone hated.

He was going to tear you down once and for all, like you deserved, for living all these years with a silver spoon in your mouth having it all so damn easy. Wipe off that smile off your face, take it for himself, and make sure you were sullied, miserable, broken.

So, Shigaraki planned his next actions very carefully then. For a whole month, he tried to be more open towards you, more friendly, taking advantage of how kind you had always been towards him despite of the dismissive way he always had treated you with. Despite his awkwardness at it too, something that anyone else would've been turned off by already, but you took his attempts with endearment.

It pleased him, how you fell for it so easily, excited to see him reciprocate your attempts at friendship, the excitement on your face whenever you two were paired together for a project or study sessions.

You were so innocent, and so stupid. He truly loved you.

—————

Shigaraki couldn't believe his luck, the day after an assignment when he got you to come with him to his dorm to start working on how you were going to plan around the workload.

His dorm room was, admittedly, filthy. Unwashed clothes and trash scattered everywhere all over the floor, wraps of junk food and snacks hastily piled on an full trash bin in the corner. Anime figurines, video games, and posters decorated the shelves and the walls. The only spot that was kind of well kept was his gaming corner, with his pc and monitors all sparkly clean. He knew it was a shameful way to live, and he excitedly looked at your face hoping to see any semblance of disgust towards it. The lack of it, made Shigaraki frown.

"Err...sorry, I didn't know you were coming so I didn't clean up the place." He feigned concern, trying to edge a reaction out of you.

"That's ok, sorry for barging in." You gave an understanding smile.

Shigaraki's twisted resolve only became stronger. He was going to wipe that smile off your face, and that thought echoed in his mind on repeat for the following hour you two sat down to work.

Though, of course, his attention was not in the books in front if him. Shigaraki was too focused on the fact you were sitting on his bed, your bare things peaking underneath your skirt making direct contact with his dirty bedsheets.

Could you even begin to imagine that those bedsheets were stained with cum from his daily fapping? That he furiously had been jerking himself off to you for months in that same bed? His blood had begun to run towards his loins, and his cock was starting to strain against his jeans. Shigaraki had to cover himself with the textbook as to not to give himself away.

"Tomura, can we take a break? I'm getting tired." You yawned some time later, putting the book away and stretching your arms above your head. An action that gave Shigaraki a perfect view of your pretty curves, the way your tits heaved slightly as you pushed your chest forward, and a flash of midriff peaked from underneath your top.

"We still got a lot to do, dumbass." He curtly replied, pretending he wasn't leering.

You pouted, like a brat. He couldn't understand how you got such good grades when you could be this lazy sometimes. "Please, just fifteen minutes?"

He pretended to think about it, before shrugging at you begrudgingly. "Alright, just stop looking at me like that."

With a pleased, cheeky smile, you let your back fell on his mattress. Something that actually took him by surprise, Shigaraki watched in disbelief how you bounced on his bed, thighs and tits jiggling. You yawned again as you curled into a ball, he wondered if you even noticed how he ran his tongue over his dry lips. Were you really going to make it this easy for him? Were you that stupid?

"Wake me up in fifteen minutes." and you closed your eyes.

"Sure thing." He couldn't stop his lips from stretching into a huge, sinister smile.

—————

Shigaraki had never been a patient man, but he exercised all of the patience he had within him just to wait out the agonizingly slow seconds as you gradually fell asleep. He kept his eyes glued on your laying form through the first five minutes, casually but excitedly palming his erection through his jeans as he watched you fall asleep. He waited, and waited, silently observing your breathing until it fell into slow, regular rhythm. Soft snoring sounds purred from your throat, leaving your lips.

His cock was so fucking hard it hurt.

Hesitantly, Shigaraki called your name once in a hushed voice, then twice a little bit louder, and when he got no response from you, he knew that the time he had waited for all those years had finally come.

The time to break you.

The beating of his heart hammered loudly in his ears, as Shigaraki crawled over the bed towards you. His weight shifted the shape of the mattress, so he moved as slowly as his desperation allowed him to, as to not wake you up yet. Positioning himself above you, his legs straddled you underneath him as he unbuckled his pants and pulled out his throbbing erection, veiny shaft all with the head red and swollen, looking like he was about to burst. Then, supporting himself on his knees, he leaned back for a moment just to take in the wonderful sight you made.

Spread on his filthy bed, so comfortably on your back, breathing through lush parted lips. The girl chased after by everyone at school, they all would've killed to be in his place and to see you like this, to have you like this. Looking so small, so fragile, so defenseless, so fucking perfect.

Years of abstinence came down crashing all at once and Shigaraki's depravity took a hold of him completely, and it felt damn good.

His lips came down to cover yours with such pathetic urgency, Shigaraki crushed your soft body underneath his larger, even if skinny, frame. Dry and chapped lips devoured the softness of yours, and they tasted so sweet and creamy, exactly the same flavor of lip balm he had stolen from you back in high school. God, he could feel your heavy, round tits pressing against his chest, his erect cock rubbing needy against the snug gash of your clothed crotch, the engorged head poking at your entrance like he was in heat like a dog, shuddering violently at the stimulation. He moaned loudly against your mouth, forcing his tongue between your teeth and into your sweet mouth, as drool trailed down the corners of his mouth and smearing against your pristine skin. God, he forgot to brush his teeth after his morning coffee, his mouth was surely filthy...not like it even mattered to him anyway. Neither did it matter that he was going to wake you up like that, he indulged on tasting you completely. In fact, he anticipated to watch you wake up, and realize what a stupid bitch you had been.

Bringing his hands to your face, he forced your mouth to press harder against his as he kissed you so sloppily, his throbbing erection rutting against your core.

"(Name)...oh fuck, (Name)..." He whined against your lips. Just a virgin that he was, Shigaraki couldn't help that the mere stimulation of your clothed pussy-mound rubbing on his bare cock was really firing him up, pushing him so much that he was creaming his pants already. He shuddered, muscles tensing as the head of his cock spurted huge jets if his smelly, sticky cum all over the front of your skirt and your thighs.

He breathed heavily, looking at the mess he made.

Then he heard you call out to him, and the sound of your voice was anything but distressed, or even angry.

Instead, you sounded disappointed.

"Aww, you already came?" His eyes shot to your face. You were wide awake, face flushed as you stared at him through fluttering lashes and glossy eyes, the expression of someone who was throughly aroused. Shigaraki was the one struck by shock, and confusion.

"Tomura, I can't believe you are such a quick shot. I was looking forward to this, you know?" Your disappointment somehow puzzled him more than the sheer anger of being called out for his quick ejaculation, and that was impressive on itself. His expression made you giggle.

"What the fuck are you laughing for?!" He growled with bared teeth, his hands moving to your writs to restrain them above your head, crushing you with his body again. You whined, not in fear, but need.

He couldn't begin to understand what was happening. You weren't freaking out, you weren't crying, you weren't despairing.

"Do you understand what is happening here? I'm assaulting you, stupid bitch!" He lost his cool so quickly.

"Of course I know." Speaking in a whisper, your back arched, pressing yourself further against Shigaraki, raising your thighs to catch his cock between the soft flesh of your exposed, sticky thighs. He hissed through his teeth, the touch easily making his cock spring back to life, harder than before.

"Tomura, you've always been a creep." For the first time, your voice sounded harsh, condescending.

And disgusted.

Finally, that disgusted look. Shigaraki stared at you with a burning gaze through red eyes, mouth agape at the sound of those words being uttered by you, that look on your face that he had wanted to see for the longest time. His cock twitched, a spurt of cum drooling down the tip and getting on your exposed panties. The feeling made you shudder, your things squeezing his cock between them again. His back arched, hands restraining you gripped your wrists tighter, he cursed at how fucking good it felt.

"But I always liked that about you, honestly! How gross you are, how dirty and smelly you are, you are always so mean to me too! I wanted you to take me like this by force one day."

"You...wanted this to happen?" Shigaraki was starting to understand, though none of it made sense. You snorted, giving him a suddenly smug grin that made his blood boil.

"I always hoped it would." A candid confession, your own breathing had become erratic, the euphoria of pouring out your deepest secrets. "It always made me feel so hot to imagine that you fucked me and made me all dirty and disgusting, that you turned me into a freak like you."

It sounded like pure bullshit, and yet the genuine honesty in your voice left no room to question it. The reality you presented him with had shattered his own. And it made him so damn angry and so fucking turned on. He felt all light-headed suddenly, like he was in a dream.

"So you've been fucking with me all this time?! Is that it, you damn bitch?!"

One of his hands roughly grabbed your throat, fingers circling the frail column of bone and squeezing hard, you gasped at the sudden pressure keeping you from breathing. You stared up at him. His gaze bore into yours, face inching closer to snarl with pure, scorching fury.

And yet you still looked so ecstatic, a lewd expression that couldn't be further from that angelic, innocent look everyone always said made you so perfect. You looked absolutely wicked in that moment.

"Yes...I have." You spoke through labored breaths, clawing and the hand around your throat. "You fucking...disgusting...creep."

Shigaraki realized then, that you hadn't ever been perfect, in fact, you had been the same as him from the beginning. A depraved fucking mess.

And he hated you for that, loved you for that.

Shigaraki then let go of both your wrist and neck, slipping his leaking cock away from your thighs as he leaned back on his knees. Gasping for oxygen, your head already felt light by the time you felt your clothes being violently ripped off from your body, blouse and skirt tearing away and being thrown behind Shigaraki's towering frame, leaving you in only your underwear.

The frilly, see-through thing that looked more like lingerie. God, you really were such a fucking freak, weren't you?

Shigaraki's hands went to unclip your bra that so luckily opened at the front. Throwing the item with the thorn pile of your other clothes. The sight of your bare tits bouncing in front if him was like out of his deepest fantasies, and Shigaraki didn't wait a second longer to roughly squeeze your breasts in his calloused hands, taking handfuls of the supple mounds of flesh he had always dreamed to grope. They felt full and heavy in his palms, fingers sinking into their softness, and seeing the way you mewled when his thumbs teased the hardening nubs of your nipples, making you softly moan his name, Shigaraki lost it.

His mouth attacked one of your nipples, mouth latching to the puffy areolae and teeth sinking into the flesh as he sucked hard and desperate. Your reaction was immediate, hands tangling into his messy white hair and fingers pulling at his scalp, mouth parted to mewl his name in pain and delight. He kept suckling at your breasts, hungry and rough like he was hoping to suck milk out of them, the other hand already playing with the other breast, mercilessly pulling and twisting your hard nipple, bruising the tender skin.

"Tomura wait — ooh!!" Your body trembled as you whined out his name, another wave of pleasurable pain hitting you when Shigaraki squeezed your breasts together and brought both nipples into his greedy mouth. Sucking at them and lapping at the pebbled skin with his tongue, until your were squirming underneath him like a needy little whore.

One of his hands delved down to your panties, the thin string that held them up all to easy to break with one powerful tug. You gasped, a sound that turned into a loud scream when you felt his fingers teasing the hot wetness of your pussy lips, before he buried one digit into your core, testing your insides.

"Oh fuck..." You breathed, biting your lip, feeling him experimentally finger your inner walls. Shigaraki was fascinated at how hot and slick you felt inside, your fleshy walls sucking around his fingers so tightly that he wanted to stuff his cock inside that hole now, now, now.

He let go of your nipples with a lewd pop, spit dribbling down the abused skin. "Who would've thought...that you had such a filthy mouth." He snickered. "You are so fucking wet already, you goddamn degenerate, you want my cock so bad, huh? I'll let you know I haven't showered in a few days." It was like he was testing you by basking in his own disgusting habits.

"Y-Yes, I do, I want your filthy cock!!" Another loud moan, uncaring that other people in the dorm were going to hear. "Please, Tomura, make me filthy!!" The expression on your face, mouth agape with your little tongue out so unabashedly desperate for someone like him made his heart flutter.

Shigaraki would've wanted to keep you begging for so much longer, but in reality, his own desperation had him pulling back his hand from your pussy, leaving you empty and sighing disappointed for a moment, but not for long. Firmly anchoring himself down with his knees on the mattress, he raised your hips with a bruising touch and with the clumsiness of an inexperienced man, plunged his cock into your pussy in one punishingly rough thrust. The sudden feeling of being full had you arching your back and curling your toes, nails clawing at his forearms as you writhed in pain from the sudden intrusion. Shigaraki buried his cock into you until his pubes brushed your outer lips, and he was balls depp inside.

"Fuck, fuck, ooh...holy shit you...are fucking tight." Tomura groaned with his mouth agape, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His breath hot against your skin as he leaned over for a moment, taking in the unbelievably hot sensation of you squeezing around him. "This fucking greedy pussy, hngg..." Your insides felt so good, better than he ever imagined, you were so tight sucking him in like you were trying to rip off his cock. Was this what pussy felt like, or was this just you? Seeing what a slut you were, he didn't think you were even a virgin. And yet your velvety walls wrapped around his shaft in a snug fit inside that scorching, pulsating heat, Shigaraki couldn't imagine anything else comparing to it.

He couldn't stop himself as he began thrusting his cock into your hole, pulling only slightly before sinking back, selfishly unwilling to let go of that delirious sensation around his length. The harder he snapped his hips, the better it felt, his balls throbbed as they slapped against your plump ass.

"Tomura, i-it hurts....mmm, oh!" Tears swelled in your eyes, and yet your hips were needly sinking on his cock like there was anything else of him to take. What a glutton for punishment you were, but soon that burning pain became something just as good, even better actually, delicious pain, and your were soon arching your back and bouncing on his cock with all your might.

"Guess neither of us are virgins anymore, huh?" You panted with a laugh. Shigaraki froze then for a second, his eyes stared at your face contorted by pain and pleasure with wide eyes, enraptured and burning with something a little hotter than desire. A virgin, so even after the truth of your character, you really were as untainted as he thought.

Shigaraki was scrapping your virgin insides with his cock, truly making you filthy in the most pure sense of the word. He was tainting you, breaking you, the perfect girl everyone adored.

That was it, Shigaraki cursed under his breath as he pulled out, earning a confused and disappointed sound of from your lips, that then became a little help when he grabbed the back of your legs and pushed them up, bending them against your chest. He positioned himself over you and stuffed his cock back inside, thrusting into you as hard as he could, taking up a new merciless pace. In that new position, both of you could feel him reaching even deeper inside you, the engorged head on his cock hitting the entrance of your cervix, that little orifice sucking at his tip like it was begging for his filthy, fertile seed. The thought made him fuck you even harder, the image of him pouring his cum inside you and impregnating your insides.

"Tomura, Tomura, Tomura!!"

His name was a chant on your lips, arms thrown around his shoulders to pull him closer. You could smell the sweat and grime on his hair, and the thought someone so gross like him was taking you made your insides flutter and twist with the build up of an orgasm. "Tomura, don't stop, fuck...don't stop!!"

He didn't and soon you were clamping on his cock, your orgasm making you so tight that Shigaraki was shooting his load too reaching an abrupt climax, pleasure hitting him as his cum flooded your insides with its warmth, painting your walls white and filling up your womb until it was overflowing out of you, steaming down your thighs and ass onto his bedsheets.

It was like a dream, the best dream he had ever had. And he would've thought that it was nothing but a dream, too. If not for the arms that were still clinging to him and refusing to let go, the pretty mouth breathing against his ear.

"Tomura, you...really are disgusting." A satisfied voice filled with disgust, and affection. His cock began hardening inside you and you barked a laugh.

He hated you for that, and he loved you for that. The perfect girl everyone wanted, that was just so perfect for him too.

#yandere x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tw noncon #tw yandere #tw somnophilia #tw assault #smut #yandere thirst

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josephinegerardywriter · 3 years

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Writing Siblings in Fiction

So you want to write siblings in your story? Well, here is some advice from me, someone with a lot of siblings.

*Disclaimer: This is merely a compilation from my own experience that is hopefully helpful. Obviously, all families are different.

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1. Siblings do not get along all the time.

In fact, some can argue all. the. time.

Siblings all have varying degrees of tolerance for one another and some just can't stand each other. This is a fairly common thing in fiction when a character has siblings, but I also see a lot of one sibling being disliked because they're a genuinely bad person. This is completely valid, but sometimes the brother or sister can be completely normal, not overly good or bad, and hated just because.

This is true even if the brothers and sisters have similar personalities (my younger siblings are proof of this). And while similarities can bring siblings together, this still does not mean they will get along 100% of the time, this just means that those closer will get over any arguments quicker to go back to being friends.

2. Siblings can hold grudges.

And they will try to hold them as long as they remember them.

There are two general-ish ways fights can go: 1. Some minor fight happened and both parties (because it's usually just between two siblings) will be angry, but some 20 minutes later, one will make the other laugh and they'll go back to being buddies. Or 2. One genuinely hurts the other in an unforgiving (or not easily forgiven) way and it causes a sever between them.

For the latter, if siblings are going to move past that, it's either going to take some time and work on both of their parts or the hurt party may choose to appear fine but internally still not be over it.

Please, please, please, please, do NOT pull a Taryn from the Cruel Prince series forgiveness card. If one of my siblings did something horrible that basically ruined my life and then a little while later came needing my help, you can bet your bottom dollar I would be like 'heck no!'

3. The younger child that idolizes their older sibling is a real thing.

As living proof, I can confirm this, however, it's rare.

From all the interactions I've had with countless families chock-full of siblings, including my own, if I hadn't been one of the starry-eyed kids myself, I would never believe it was real.

*But though it is rare, I absolutely adore this trope, especially if the adored sibling is a good influence, so please continue using this. <3

4. They have different family values.

I think this can go for families and family members in general. Each individual has their own opinion of which of their values is more important.

Some think blood relation is of the utmost importance and family should stick together no matter what, while others disagree, especially if the family is toxic, and just don't want to be around them. It's different for everyone.

5. Siblings can be jerks for no reason.

I don't know why they are, but they can be. And the jerks are generally disliked by the rest of their siblings.

6. Siblings prefer to stick with those closest in personality and age

Even just one or the other is fine. I can just as easily spend time with my youngest sibling because we have similar personalities as I can with my siblings closest to my age.

7. On calling each other 'brother' or 'sister' ...

In my personal experience, I have never come across anyone who calls their sibling 'brother' or 'sister' in place of their name. I'm sure some do, but when I come across it in media, it usually feels like the director or author is trying to tell the audience that, hey! these characters are related! If that's the point you're trying to make and it has no other significance than that, I would suggest finding another way to show it.

If it has to be told, it makes more sense for someone else to say, "Oh, those brothers are inseparable." than "Hi, brother!" unless they're Tyson from Percy Jackson or introducing their sibling to another person, i.e "This is my brother." in which case, it's fine.

8. Families are goldmines for inside jokes

Think about it, you've been with these people your entire life and shared countless memories.

The characters will have probably shared countless jokes that are still referenced years later. They're also going to know most details and events of their siblings' life and if any are particularly embarrassing, their siblings will be teased. Even worse, the entire family will join in if they're nearby. (Unless they're nice, then probably not.)

But not even just teasing, you can write little interactions or shared references that imply a rich history together. For example, my siblings and I love to pepper in movie quotes as we talk to each other. It's always so fun because the other one automatically knows exactly what we're referencing because they were there with us when we watched that movie/show countless times.

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And this will be what I'll be leaving you with today. I took these from my experience of being part of a large family, but I'm sure they'll hold if you're writing a small family as well. Also, these tips are intended for blood relatives because I am no expert on adopted siblings or found family and their different functions.

Ultimately, I hope you found this helpful for your writing, and remember as with all writing advice, please take this with a grain of salt and remember there are exceptions to every rule. Happy writing!

#i feel the most strongly about 2 because that's the one i hardly ever see #siblings do not have to forgive each other all the time #especially if one does something incredibly stupid #writing advice #writing tips #writing siblings #writing families #long post #helpful #potentially #josephine gave advice? josephine gave advice!

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

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Casual Intimacy (Mark Lee x you)

a/n : it’s my soft hours I guess? I made this sweet Mark Lee imagine (well for me this is sweet. I want a boy like this... if you’re that kind of man dm me 😜)

fluff, no warning, no suggestive content but kisses, and just Mark being a wonderful man for you.

Happy Imagining Mark Lee as your s/o!

People often ask you how you can hold on to your “plain” relationship with your current boyfriend. You seriously do not like them bothering you about your relationship life, but you need to deal with it considering the fact that the man you are dating is the famous Mark Lee of NCT.

He is dorky in camera, and in real life too. You pray day and night to the angels to make sure Mark is not tripping on some random stone or bump a pole. Guess your prayer works, when you see Mark always smiling in front of the camera coping up and working so hard with his endless job.

You yourself work in a famous two Michelin restaurant in Seoul. You’re not going to lie, you met Mark lee on your duty. NCT was holding their debut birthday and you were appointed as the chef to cook for their meal that night. Apparently, Mark Lee was super fascinated by your dish and he requested you to come greet the team when your job in the kitchen is done. Your head cook lets you leave your station once desert is prepared and the plates coming into the washing room is clean.

That was five years ago, Mark Lee got love struck by your simple but attractive persona. His eyes couldn’t leave you as you answer their questions on the dishes and you congratulating them. They’re glad when they learn that you listened to their songs and followed their schedules, just that you don’t have much time to be like the other wonderful fans.

Mark Lee looked so intrigued on you and as you bow to them bidding goodbye, he just returned from the restroom. With his long legs trying to catch his other brothers, Mark happened to slip his number on a piece of tissue paper to your pocket and gave you a genuine smile plus a “thank you”.

You earned a good pay that night and even better, Mark Lee’s number.

Well, he isn’t your bias but come on who doesn’t have Mark Lee in their bias list? Want it or not, conscious or not, Mark Lee is always in the list. So, that night when you finish showering and eating a light midnight snack, you gave the number a shot.

You thought your message will never be replied, maybe Mark will have his phone in silent and only opened up messages from his contact list. You’re lucky when your notification bleeped and from that night both of you learn more about each other.

He kept your number under your name, plain business people say, you also thought maybe he wanted to call you for another dinner party. But the chats he had been sending was far from platonic business. It involves jokes, puns, memories of living in Canada (well you graduated from University of Toronto, but cooking is your passion), and even deeper like late night talks.

The relationship got deeper when Mark Lee called you one night, asking if he can meet you in the restaurant. He said he needed a good meal to write a song he was assigned for. You found no correlation between a good meal and writing a song, but believe it or not, Mark Lee came with one of the hottest selling song that month. Earning him a title of “King of Lyrics”

Since then, he called you again and again when he didn’t have the idea to write. You finally invited him over to your house when you got closer. Mark got to eat in your small dining table with a simple dish that was made with love and care that Mark said tasted better than any other dishes he ever had.

You laughed saying he is exaggerating, but Mark never exaggerates when he is with you.

“Be my girlfriend will you?” he one night asked after you teach him how to cook a proper egg. Despite him succeeding the challenge back in 2020, he still needs practice. He succeeded cooking eggs after knowing you for more than a year.

“Suddenly Mark? After you can make a perfect runny egg?” you giggle but nevertheless nodded your head.

His smile that night was even brighter than when he received any awards and praises. His eyes spark joys and emotions uncaptured by cameras. The world never knows how Mark’s true happy face looks like, but if his world is you, then the world knows!

For the first two year of dating, both of you are keeping it low. Dates happen in your house (your wage is enough to buy you a house). You always cook him foods, tried new dishes to him, earned a lot of complains on how the food is not “suitable for Korean tongue” which you always shrug off because he himself is a mix.

But thanks to his constant brave inputs, your dishes are perfectly blended and well known. News media and TV shows started to cast you in their weekend shows. You were offered a contract of a cooking show in a known broadcasting company.

Mark told you to go for it. He knew how happy you are about cooking, and his faith told him “if that is what was given for you, go for it.”

He was right. The internet loves you, they love your simple but tasty dishes. Your show was ranked the hottest that month, famous for helping college student eat a more delicious food.

NCT even did a special relay cam for it, each group were doing a challenge on following your recipes.

Mark was caught off guard on that live shooting day. His team consisted of him, Ten and Johnny.

And you may guess, things went wrong but in a chaotic fun way. When the three of them are together, they just speak in English and forgot all of the filters they should have.

Mark spilled his relationship when he accidentally said out loud “Of course I know how to do that, my girl has been teaching me that.” Mark boasted when Ten asked if Mark could make the egg benedict for their dish.

Johnny and Ten froze on screen, well the NCT members knew your relationship with Mark but they kept quiet. Mark realized what he has said was recorded and forever lives in the web. The comment section went wild and the fans are thrilled about the “mysterious girlfriend Mark has”.

He eventually spilled the truth on a press conference. You were there beside him when he faced the board director and when he sit in front of different mics and cameras flashes. No one knows but throughout the time, when your heart is beating faster than when you took your SAT and final tests, Mark Lee held on to your hand whenever you are answering a question directed to you.

The magazines are taking the favor of the rising topic, inviting you and Mark to take a photoshoot. When you were insecure about taking a picture with him (who has did countless shoots), he squeezed your arm when walking past you and gave a small proud smile as he went to change clothes while you start your personal shoot. No one saw that, but his quick reassuring squeeze boosted your confidence that day and the couple shoot was very nice! You could print that as your wedding pictures!

When the internet goes wild when they connect the theories and Instagram posts Mark and you both made (fans are the best in deciphering codes!), you now walk through the streets crowded by fans. All asking how is it like to date Mark, but not few also told you to screw off. One day when you both are going back to Canada for a winter break, the fans are crowding the way. You gulped when you have to walk pass them, but Mark looked so used to it. He just chuckled and landed a small hand on the back of your waist. With the manager hyung and bodyguard pushing to make way, you made it through the crowd with confident steps.

On the Christmas dinner, Mark was invited to your family dinner and vice versa. You had to attend their family lunch and to say you were nervous was an understatement.

“Mark, what if they don’t like me?” you asked on your bus ride to his house from the airport.

Mark laughed, he always laughed as his first respond, “Baby, it’s going to be okay. Trust me.”

You snorted, “You calling me baby is already suspicious, for three years we dated you “dude” me 70% of the time, “baby” was only like 10%”

He did the math, “Then what’s the remaining 20?%”

“You just call me “Bro” for the res of them.” You squeezed his cheek and planted a kiss there.

“I like it though, not too cheesy.”

He grew red. “Gosh I am having the Jaehyun syndrome. Why are my ears burning?!”

He was not 100% wrong, his parents were nice they grew fond of you especially when you helped his mother prepared lunch. Well you both arrived earlier and you decided to give a hand for the busy mom.

Mark sat next to you on dinner and when you were diving into a yummy Christmas pudding, his parents began asking you the “platonic questions asked to your partner”.

You almost chocked on your pudding when they asked “Are you seeing a future with Mark? Can you make our son happy and us too?”

You were not ready, you expected questions like where you work or where you live. They said “We can find all that answers in the internet, but not the answer to our question.”

Mark’s gentle kick from under the table by your side made you looked at him and he gave you that sincere smile only you have the privilege to see. He nodded slightly and shot his eyebrow to his parents side “Answer them… I am also curious of the answer.”

You grew red, it wasn’t the drink or anything, but his parent’s happy and relieved face when you nod your head and said “I am seeing a future with him, if I get both of your blessing.”

They love you and Mark was right. That night, you invited his family to join your dinner instead. The same question was asked from your parents to Mark and Mark was more than ready to marry you.

But your wedding bells did not chime that fast. He has his career and so do you, both of you just keep the stable relationship going on. Together facing the problems and obstacles in your relationship. Fights occur, bickering occur, threads of breaking up also happened once or twice… but both of you used that to build a stronger bond.

You always melt when Mark came home from a long day. After he showered and savored his dinner, he always ended up leaning on your shoulder in the big snuggle sofa both of you never regret buying. His head on your shoulder, his hand scribbling words to a paper and you whispering ideas to him which brought a big smile to his face.

Writing lyrics has been even easier for Mark, he blended your frustration with his, splattered some love words, and voila a masterpiece! People said his lyrics were relatable and both of you always keep it to yourself that “those happened in our life, no wonder it looked real.”

He always kissed you gently on your lips, tasting the faint cherry flavour of your lip balm. Mark’s lips tasted of medical lip balm, but you love it nonetheless.

You blinked and realized the flashing cameras in front of you. Oh right, someone from the hot magazine company is asking you a question.

‘Can you please repeat your question?” you asked politely to the lady holding out a mic.

She quickly nodded, “A lot of fans are wondering If you are still in a relationship with Mark. Mark was busy for the last months with projects and comebacks. And the interaction update from both of you are little to none. Fans suspected you were over with him, considering that Mark looked like he is the “plain” type in a relationship.”

You pressed a smile, hiding your urge to laugh out loud. Weren’t the fans always picturing Mark as their dream boyfriend? Why did they judge him as the plain boring type then?

You clear your throat and while looking through the crowds, you spot Mark Lee seated in the crowd with a mask and a hat, giving you a nod, and you turned your mic on.

“We’re still going strong; well I think love is not the type of grand gestures or explosive displays.” You started off and caught everyone’s attention.

“It’s made up of little things,” you felt your heart clench upon remembering all the small affections Mark always did to you. “It’s the little things Mark Lee did that say he is here, and he cared for me and that my life has intertwined so deeply into his that there was no need to think.” You take a pause to look at the audience.

Everyone looked impressed, but amongst them you catch one pair of gleaming proud eyes, the pair of eyes you’ve been waking up to for the last years, and the one you want to wake up to in the future years.

“It’s Mark’s casual intimacy that made us both stay strong and stronger.”

Applaud was heard through the room, you were holding your press conference because you were retreating from all the cooking shows and rumor has it you are going to marry Mark.

“Please pray for both of us, as we will be tying our bonds soon.” You leave the room after a bow and the man with mask and hat is already waiting for you outside the big crowded function hall.

His hand naturally makes its way to your waist and you never felt more sure to step into life with this man you love, Mark Lee.

“That was wonderful (y/n)~”

You smile, he did not dude you nor bro you nor baby you. “I love you Mark Lee,”

He leaned in for a peck behind the tinted black van window, “I love you most (y/n) Lee,” he winked and you rubbed your cheeks “Guess I have the Jaehyun syndrome now! Also I like it when you call me with that name.”

He quirked his eyebrow and smirked, “Don’t worry, you’ll be hearing that soon for the rest of your life.” He reached for your hand and kissed the knuckles.

“I met you thanks to your amazing handy work in cooking unforgettable dish.”

You rolled your eyes, “You were so amazed on my egg benedict Mark! How is that an unforgettable dish?”

He shrugged his shoulder, “I don’t know, something about you, cooking, and love made me this love struck and awfully amazed by simple things you did.”

the end

thanks for reading, put in comments for I’d love to interact with you on the story plot .. rant to me what you hate or like idc :D i want to talk with my readers! to thank you all for reading and spending some time here

omg i didn’t know if I made the right choice of making Mark Lee as this character, but I want it to be him.. I’ve been writing a lot of Jaehyun and Yuta fic and I guess Mark can be a refresher. Please let me know if someone else suits this better!

#mark lee x you #mark lee x y/n #mark lee x reader #mark x y/n #mark x you #mark x reader #mark lee #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee oneshot #mark scenarios #mark lee fanfic #mark lee fluff #mark imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 soft hours #nct fluff #mark fluff

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sushiburritonoms · 2 years

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Hi hello yes I stumbled upon your dinluke exile au and it was so SO GOOOD AAAAA i love so many things in itttttt i love how din have trouble understanding Basics for lacking words that exist in Mando'a i love how luke hates hyperspace cause he felt cut off from the Force i love how much of an adorable cutie menace grogu is i love so many things about your fic it absolutely got a chock hold on me!! (There's a lot of things i love in it but it'll be too long to write haha)

I also love your other writings I've read the Han in dinluke hell series (it's so funny i live seeing han suffering lmao) and the librarian au (very informative i reaaally live ittt aaaaaa) I've read almost everything and I'm just ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Your writing rocks and I love it so much thank you for writing!!!! (so sorry for the long ramble but it's so goood can't wait for more :333)

Arghhh Thankkkk Youuuuu! This is such a wonderful comment to read and means so much to me. I really enjoyed writing Exile and I keep trying to find time to write the sequel. I was supposed to do NaNo but ah...life happened and I got a bad case of writer's block on top of RL stuff. So this keeps me going, you and all the other wonderful wonderful commentators. Thank you sooooooooo mucchhhh!!

I'm actually writing chapter 5 of Sacred Texts right now! Here's a rough draft of a tiny bit as a big thank you!

Hey.

The text from Din arrived just as he was about to leave Peli’s garage with his new driver’s side window installed. Luke leaned up against his car and stared at the three innocent letters as if he hadn’t been anxiously waiting for Din to text him all week.

His left hand hesitated as it held his phone in a tight grip. After a long moment, he typed,

Hey!

Should he say something else? Did that exclamation mark make him sound too eager? Luke bit his lip, but then hit send before he could change his mind.

“Why are you still here?”

Peli’s voice made Luke jump and nearly drop his phone. She was cleaning one of her tools with a dirty rag and standing a foot away from him. “Something wrong with the window?”

“Er--no--”

“Of course there isn’t! I installed it, it’s flawless. Dont’cha have anything else to do than loiter on my property all night?”

Before he could reply his phone beeped.

Are we still on for dinner?

Luke couldn’t help the smile that floated up, along with a rush of warmth.

“Helllooo! I’m talking here! Geez, ya rude Millennials, always ignoring real life for your phones.” Peli slid the wrench into her pocket and leaned over to look at Luke’s phone. “Is it Djarin?”

Saturday, right?

“Right--you two are going out!” Peli crowed before Luke could pull his phone away. “Good thing I fixed both of your cars for ya. You’re WELCOME. Well, what are you waiting for--answer him, boy!”

“I’m trying,” Luke sighed, as he started to type.

Yes--

“Say you’re looking forward to it!” Peli demanded, interrupting Luke before he could send it. “Hey, is he going to bring you flowers? Do gay dudes do that? He grew up in a cult so I bet he’s traditional like that!”

“Peli,” Luke groaned. Then his brain caught up with him. “Wait--a cult?”

“Long story,” she shrugged. “Ask him over dinner--”

Luke shuffled nervously. “That seems rude.”

“You should know all his dirty laundry before you get invested.” Peli moved so she could lean up against Luke’s car next to him and further invade his space. “Ask him why he takes so many trips down South these days. I wanna know; he better not be getting up to no good again, after all the help I’ve given him, helping him get his place in Jedha and watching his kid!”

“I--”

“You should always vet someone before you start dating, so stalk him! It's so easy these days, with your ‘social media’ and your ‘face books’. It was a lot harder being out when I was young--especially here in Palpatine land, let me tell you. The history some of these rural gals had on them--rap sheets a mile long! Secret husbands and secret kids! I’ve seen it all. So get all his dark secrets out now. Unless you’re just looking for a fling, which I already warned you about breaking that man’s heart--”

“Peli! Please let me just answer him!” Luke whined.

#seriously thank you ive had a lot of imposter syndrome lately #readers are the best #sacred texts

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Welcome back, everyone! Starting here in Chapter Six these recaps are doing double duty with my latest attempt at completing National Novel Writing Month. Granted, this isn’t a novel and yes, I technically started this project well before November, but there’s no way I’d manage 50,000 words of fiction in 2020, so I’m hoping to hit that with these recaps instead. You all get semi-frequent updates and I may get to finally say I completed this challenge! That’s a win-win as far as I’m concerned.

Quick reminder: new teams, CFVY was separated, everything is awful. There, done. Seventy-five pages in we’ve come back to Velvet’s point of view as she and the other students are carted off in airbuses. She’s experiencing the “same shock and dismay” that she saw on Yatsuhashi’s face before they were separated, thus I’d like to re-emphasize last chapter’s argument that though shaking up the teams isn’t inherently a bad idea, doing it in this way while your students are recovering from/still involved in a war is… not so great for their mental health. Yeah, yeah, Remnant is a hard place and these kids experience traumatic events on the weekly, but still. There’s a fine line between preparing students for that kind of life and simply traumatizing them further, because this is a kind of trauma when the teams so heavily rely on one another - fill every aspect of one another’s lives: friend, colleague, family, teacher, student, leader, follower, romantic partner - and you’re now uprooting them with no warning. Whether or not new teams actually happen, the students think they are and that’s messing with their heads. Basically they’re just:

This problem is highlighted when we get confirmation of what I stated last time: the teams aren’t merely colleagues turned friends, but family. These fighters have got all their emotional eggs in one basket. Velvet goes so far as to imply that she loves her team more than her parents, with the logic being that they (her parents) “never talked to each other anymore.” So… if Coco and Yatsuhashi stopped talking would that undermine your love for each of them as individuals? I get what the overall takeaway is - divorce is a nasty business and can leave lasting scars on kids caught in the middle, to say nothing of the fact that, as a young adult, Velvet is poised to start creating a family by choice, not blood - but it’s still an odd way to phrase the issue. Here we have another instance of me picking up on implications due to RWBY, the franchise’s, overall themes. When you’ve got a story so thoroughly touting a teens vs. adults mentality, having Velvet mentally reject her parents for her team reads differently than it otherwise would. Chock that onto the pile that already includes things like, ‘Ruby denies that Qrow ever helped her’ and ‘Yang is no longer a part of grieving for Summer’ and ‘Weiss seems to have forgotten all that Klein did for her.’ There’s a lot of uncomfortable details attached to our heroes and how they see the adults in their lives, parents included.

Velvet doesn’t get to worry for long though. A much happier voice sounds across the airbus and she spots Sun, classically hanging from his tail. Instead of hearing more about her fears we segue into - you guessed it - Sun bashing. The first thought to pop into her head is that Sun “wasn’t with the rest of his team, but knowing Sun, that might have been his decision.”

...Velvet, you just tried desperately to stay with your own team and were (somehow) swept away by the apparently overwhelming crowed (still ridiculous imo). But if you didn’t manage this, what makes you think Sun had a chance? Why is his separation suddenly a potential choice when yours was presented as nothing of the sort? That is some real insistence on thinking the worst of him. I dragged Sun for abandoning his team in Volume 4 because that was abandonment. It was a choice worthy of criticism. This? This was outside of his control and Velvet knows it.

Sun saw her, smiled, and waved. Velvet looked away.

Nice, Velvet.

He comes over anyway and (kindly!) asks if she’s okay. Velvet says no, specifically because “Yatsu and I were separated.” Here we have another example of how close the partners get even within each team. Blake and Yang are inseparable. Ruby talks to Weiss more than her sister (and the concept of her talking to Blake in any meaningfully way is hilarious at this point). Now, despite being separated from her entire team - everyone is in the same awful boat - Velvet frames the situation as just being separated from Yatsuhashi. Later she repeats, “Well, I still want to try to find Yatsu.” So would it be a disappointment to find Fox or Coco instead? It’s especially weird because in the main show we see Velvet and Coco interacting the most. I actually had to look up who Velvet’s partner was because I just assumed our two girls were a duo. Apparently not. I’m not really into the CFVY side of the fandom, but I imagine there’s a substantial ship community for these two based solely on how Velvet embraces RWBY partnerships in this book, outside of the always popular Velvet/Coco, of course.

That’s admittedly a ship I can get behind.

After Velvet unloads all her worries “Sun stared ahead, like he couldn’t quite manage to feel bad.” Attention, readers, this is an important lesson coming up! In fandom spaces I often see people analyzing novels (and other print media/visual media with narration) without taking into consideration the perspective. Unless we’ve got an omniscient perspective we need to take into account that our narrator might, simply put, be wrong (and even then, omniscient unreliable narrators are a popular choice). Often I see readers taking a characters’ thoughts - and words - at face value, which is understandable given that we’re meant to emotionally connect with them, but we have to keep in mind that this is their interpretation of events. We see the story through their eyes, how they perceive the world, but their perception of the world may not be accurate or, at the very least, is open to further interpretation. Sometimes this is used in an obvious, plot-driven manner - there’s a surprise twist for the reader, made possible because our protagonist was likewise kept in the dark - but it applies to our reading of more casual interactions too. This is a good example. Just because Velvet says Sun looks “like he couldn’t quite manage to feel bad” doesn’t mean that’s actually how Sun feels. As we’ve just re-established, Velvet is inclined to think the worst of Sun, or at least consider the worst as a distinct possibility. So if we’re asking the question, “Is Velvet’s perspective accurate to reality here?” weighing her previous assumptions against actions like Sun smiling, waving, and asking how she’s doing, AKA caring about her situation… I’d say no, it’s likely not.

At least she doesn’t outright accuse him of anything. Given that he’s not privy to these insulting thoughts, Sun chatters on about the test. He thinks it “isn’t a bad idea” because, as established, a lot of students lost teammates and are having trouble settling into Shade while still trying to live the life they had at Beacon. Changing the teams could be a “chance to really commit to our new school and our training, and learn from one another in a new way.” That’s what I think!

“Right… Or maybe some of us burned bridges with our team and might be looking for an easy way to avoid fixing those relationships.”

Velvet what the actual fuck. Can our cast NOT be assholes for five minutes??

Sun goes red at the accusation and calls her out on being harsh. “Tough love” Velvet calls it. Okay, no. Tough love is reserved for people you’re actually friends with and is meant to have them face a harsh reality they might be avoiding. Sun is avoiding an overt apology with his team, but we (and Velvet) have been given no indication that his thoughts on the test are a smokescreen to hide ulterior motives, which is what she’s talking about here. Sun clearly wants to make up with his team, he’s just struggling to accept what needs to be done to do that. Tough love would have been Velvet encouraging Sun to use this separation to reflect on what his team means to him and then, regardless of whether they end up back together, apologizing for how he unintentionally hurt them. Not… this. Plus, again, Velvet hasn’t exactly been friendly lately. She has little ground for dishing out “tough love.” You need established “love” before the “tough” part.

In addition, she’s not listening to what Sun’s saying. “If they want us prepared for an attack, breaking up teams sounds counterproductive.” When did Sun mention anything about an attack? That’s your assumption of what’s going down based on the illegal investigation you’ve been assisting with. Sun just said that changing the teams would provide some of them with a much needed clean slate, which is true. Just because that’s not what Velvet needs doesn’t mean it’s not useful for others. As she eventually acknowledges, they can get too comfortable in the roles they’ve been playing.

We get her line about wanting to find Yatsuhashi followed by, “Sun, you do whatever you want. That’s what you’re good at.” Velvet seriously? Then minutes later she’s hoping Sun sticks close to her if he can. Real talk: everyone deserves better than this. ‘Friends’ who constantly act like your presence is a burden, insult you whenever they get the chance, insist such insults are for your benefit (it’s just tough love), but then turn around and play nice when you have something they want... those aren’t friends. Note that Velvet is - both privately and overtly - mean to Sun while he’s just existing in the airbus, going through the same horrible test as her, trying to be nice, and holding an otherwise civil conversation. While trapped on the bus with nowhere to go, Sun is a nuisance despite his best efforts. When the floor suddenly opens up and Velvet is terrified of falling and surviving on her own though, then his presence is desirable. That’s not friendship and in another story I’d praise the author(s) for writing a compelling move from shaky acquaintances to a strong bond… but I’m honestly not sure that the relationship (any of them, really) will improve. Far as I can gather, Myers thinks this is friendship.

So Velvet accuses Sun of always and forever hurting others in his pursuit of doing what pleases him (after checking in on Velvet… literally minutes ago…) which is right around when Scarlet decides to make himself known. He agrees with Sun’s belief that this test will be harder than they assume: “I think you’re right… For a change.” Everything comes with a caveat. Apparently Scarlet has been listening in the whole time, but somehow manages to turn that into an insult as well with “I’ve been standing five feet away. Maybe I’m ready for a new team, too.” Wait, is the implication that Scarlet is further annoyed because Sun didn’t notice him? Do you all have ANY idea how many times a friend has stood right next to me and I didn’t notice them because I was caught up in something like work, a show… a conversation? I’m oblivious af. I get that Sun has things to make up for but at the very least these characters could keep their criticisms to what he’s actually done wrong, not crazy reaches like, ‘Sun probably abandoned his team when everyone was separated’ or ‘Sun was busy talking to Velvet and didn’t notice me eavesdropping, so I guess I don’t mean much to him, huh.’ I’m constantly torn between the presumed realism of this writing - people are unfair in their criticisms, teens do hold unsubstantiated grudges - and acknowledging that Myers seems to have felt confident writing (1) personality and just gave it to everyone. Velvet privately becomes as critical as Coco, who is as vocal as Fox, who agrees with Yatsuhashi, who echoes Sun’s team, and Sun himself often throws that attitude right back. Round and round we go.

As one might imagine, the three begin theorizing about what the test itself will be like. Usually Shade sets up initiation just like this. Students are transported in windowless airbuses, dumped in the desert, and told to find their way home. I’m interested in the bit about how teams are made up not only based on arrival, but also “the manner in which [the students] survived.” It definitely lends support to the assumption I’ve always had that the teams can really be random. At least not entirely. There’s strategy on the part of the instructors, thinking through aspects like, ‘Well, these two students used their wits in this manner so they’d pair together nicely.’ Or the reverse, ‘Put together the strategist with the student in love with blunt force, let them balance each other out.’ I certainly don’t think that Ozpin formed teams based solely on who ran into each other first. Not only do we have agency on the part of the students (Weiss leaves Ruby, then Jaune, then goes back to Ruby), as well as the fact that two sets of partners had to be paired together someway, but Ozpin was also carefully watching their whole performance. If the only thing that mattered was getting back to Beacon with a chess piece, why bother examining their choices? Shade appears to employ a similar setup of careful decisions portrayed as randomness, which would make sense given that Ozpin set up these schools. Though all the headmasters may not realize it (is Theodore a part of the inner circle?), or perhaps don’t agree with his methods overall, Ozpin’s influence is undeniably evident in each institution we’ve seen.

The only difference between normal initiation and this test seems to be that the students have to find a gold figurine this time around. Though as our trio points out, there’s likely to be other differences as well, otherwise the original Shade students would have a pretty significant advantage.

During all this Velvet remanences about Beacon’s initiation and we learn that Ozpin does, apparently, use the whole ‘Throw you into the woods where you’ll find some relic’ setup each year, as Velvet remembers being “thrown into the air” during hers. She also hits on another concern that hadn’t crossed my mind until now: what if a team includes a new student alongside the “more vocal in harassing recruits from Beacon and Haven?” It might do the Shade students some good to get to know the newcomers, but it’s not the newcomers’ responsibility to teach them some basic respect and kindness.

During all this Rumpole, via a screen, has been explaining how the test will go down. Her little info session concludes with her telling them to “Prepare for drop-off… See you back home soon.” I really like that she used the term “home” here. It says something about how she views the school and her students’ place in it, despite the tough attitude and tougher culture of Vacuo.

Turns out, when Rumpole said drop-off she meant that literally. The floor opens up and we get a mix of some students panicking while others just happily jump out.

Yeet.

Like I said, Ozpin’s influence.

I didn’t understand the panic initially - aren’t landing strategies a basic part of huntsmen training, something everyone (except Jaune) is expected to know coming into a school? Isn’t it at least partway through the year when everyone, even firsties, has had practice at this? - until I remembered Rumpole’s comment about how she hoped everyone remembered to bring their weapons this morning.

…that’s one hell of a lesson. Let’s break this down for a second. Yes, everyone at Shade is expected to carry their weapons at all times, but the meeting that started all this was early in the morning and, far as I can tell, entirely unexpected. ‘Supposed to’ is not the same thing as ‘will,’ especially when one is dealing with college-equivalent students who are still figuring expectations out. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that someone did leave their weapon behind. So now what? These buses are thousands of feet in the air, dropping students randomly as they jump/fall. If a student did need help how in the world would a professor assist them? Do they just expect other students to help like Pyrrha did for Jaune? It’s possible given that in a moment Octavia will help Velvet despite seeming to dislike her... but that’s not something I’d want to bank on. Whether a student forgot their weapon or has a weapon unsuited to a landing strategy, they’re going to die from this fall. Yeah, yeah, the test is supposed to be deadly, but what’s there to learn then? You’re dead! The lesson ‘Don’t forget your weapon’ or ‘Find a weapon more suited to landing strategies’ will never stick unless there are contingency plans in place to ensure that students survive their first mistakes.

It just all seems kind of flimsy, like everything works out because the plot says it must, not because I believe this in-world setup is geared towards keeping students alive and teaching them how to survive this world. (The reverse of the story conveniently not killing civilians off during a major grimm attack.) If landing strategies are so crucial to a huntsmen’s work - and we see them a lot - why are students allowed to have weapons like Yatsuhashi’s Fulcrum that, far as I can see, provide you with no way of slowing your descent? What if you don’t have a suitable semblance? Or it hasn’t been unlocked yet? What if your weapon would work, theoretically, but you haven’t taken any pictures of other suitable weapons lately (Velvet)? What if you never figure out that there are parachutes on the ship? Unless the instructors have a secret way of saving someone from getting splattered, this seems like a test rife with deadly mistakes, not just encounters. Why not teach your students to carry mini high-tech parachutes on their belts, with weapons and semblances as backups? Incorporate Atlas tech into standard schooling, then give us huntsmen who suddenly have it taken away with the embargo, resulting in a lot of problems. I mean, the students are legit scared in this scene, Velvet included. Having them face deadly grimm is one thing, but why test the odds with a thousand foot plunge when there’s absolutely no reason to? Far as I can see, the schooling isn’t built around ensuring they survive a fall like this - nothing like weapon requirements, or carrying additional gear if you semblance is something like Ren’s - which means making the fall a part of the test itself is... not great.

Which, to be clear, is the fault of the author(s) and how much thought (or not) they’ve put into their fictional school, not the fictional school’s fault because it’s, you know, fictional. Basically, the world building in this series kind of drives me nuts, in case you haven’t noticed lol.

Velvet does find the parachutes, oh so conveniently, and at least has the decency to give one to Sun. Also yeah, kudos for thinking to search for them in the first place. I do like the ‘survival is the only thing that counts’ theme. Cheating, lying, and the like is great when it’s used because the odds are already stacked against you. We get her agreement to try and stick close because remember, there’s nothing like a dangerous situation to remind you to be decent towards someone else. As Velvet magnanimously thinks, “Being with Sun would be better than being alone.”

Okay. Low bar, but okay.

So they fall and we get to hear a fair bit about Vacuo’s history based on what Velvet remembers about each landmark from history class. Honestly, I’m impressed at her recall. I wouldn’t be able to dredge up class notes while falling through the air. We get an abandoned city previously hidden by sand and the somewhat confusing sentence, “These were all that was left of the underground mines, the Drylands, the site of the old Paradise Oasis, long since dried up following Dust mining and the Great War.” Are these three separate places among the rock-less area pockmarked with holes? Or is this a single area of underground mines, called the Drylands (for some reason?), that includes the contrasting place called Paradise Oasis? I’m not sure. The takeaway though is that Velvet hopes Coco isn’t heading to that ambiguously named place because she’s incredibly claustrophobic.

What I find the most informative in all this is the description of the quarries as “physical manifestations of the wounds that still ran deep in the people of Vacuo.” The overall issue of outsiders coming into Vacuo, draining it of its resources, and then taking it back to their own kingdoms (while leaving their trash behind) is the sort of theme significant to our own lives and worthy of examination in fiction… Not saying that RWBY necessarily handles this theme well - especially given the messy conflation of that generational trauma and the awful treatment of any ‘outsider’ who wanders into the kingdom - but I do appreciate when I can see the series trying. Even if it fails, effort is (to an extent) still worth acknowledgement.

What I’m less inclined to praise is the strange follow up of “maybe that was why Rumpole was sending students there.” …what does this mean? Velvet just told us the quarries are the “wounds” of Vacuo, so are they being sent there because they’re dangerous? Because huntsmen will somehow fix this?? Neither of these make sense but I literally don’t know what point Myers is trying to make… which happens a lot. Again, there’s a whole lot of wise-sounding statements in this novel that, at the end of the day, mean very little - if anything at all.

Velvet eventually lands, nearly getting pulled into one of the openings when she can’t get out of her parachute. She’s saved at the last moment by Octavia Ember, a member of Team NDGO. You know, “One of the people she least wanted to run into.” We all knew the moment Velvet worried about running into one of the crueler members of Shade that it would happen.

Their conversation is filled with heartfelt gratitude and riveting greetings:

“Thanks?” Velvet said.

“Whatever.” Octavia sheathed her blade and started walking away. That was more like it.

What is wrong with all of these people? My kingdom for a kind, enthusiastic, non-team exchange!

You know the ‘enemies forced to work together’ conflict couldn’t end there though (a trope I normally love and would likely love here except having Octavia be another stereotypical mean girl was the least innovative choice possible). She and Velvet end up heading towards the same quarry, simply because there’s nothing else for miles around. Velvet displays some quick thinking when she explains that the instructors likely hid the relics in there to ensure they weren’t forever hidden under the sand. Velvet, unlike Yatsuhashi, has also realized that there’s more to the test than just their fighting skills. They’ll be graded on everything, “Including how we treat each other.” I’m always appreciative of characters who use their brains as much as their brawns.

Perhaps that not-so-subtle nudge resonated with Octavia because she opens up a bit. By this I mean she moves from “Whatever” to telling Velvet the traumatizing story of how she lost a third of her clan to Blind Worms in one of these quarries. Okay. That’s a complete 180, but I’ll take it. Velvet continues to have supposed insights about the Vacuans like, ‘Maybe they don’t cry because that’s a waste of water?’ and ‘Maybe they hate everyone on principal because of the past?’ and ‘I guess bullying is just something you’re supposed to survive out here’ (um… no.) In Velvet - and Myers’ - defense she acknowledges that none of these explanations excuse their actions… but I’m not so sure it explains them either. A few chapters ago we were hammering home how teens don’t have an emotional connection to their past, despite it not actually being that long ago (recall Coco’s conversation with Rumpole in class), but now we’re supposed to believe that all of these teens reject newcomers because of stuff that happened during a war they weren’t alive for? Also, I’m neither a doctor nor an anthropologist, but the concept of a desert people refusing to cry because it’s a waste of water - especially in an otherwise advanced civilization - seems suspect. I can buy someone being unable to cry because they’re currently dehydrated, but a whole culture denying themselves this outlet when most of them don’t actually lack water anymore is odd.

Granted, culture isn’t always logical. Case in point: memes. So let’s give that a pass.

However, we’ve still got the issue of continuity across paragraphs. First Velvet is smug because she’s a better climber than Octavia. Then Octavia is ahead and supposedly annoyed that Velvet was slowing her down. It’s unclear when, or if, they’ve finished climbing at this point and a second later Octavia is climbing a tree - why didn’t Velvet do that? Really, I lay little blips like this at the feet of the editors, not the author(s), simply because as an author I know precisely how easy it is to lose track of every detail you’ve introduced. It becomes obvious to the reader when things don’t quite align, but it will often go unnoticed by the writer - like typos. (RIP my own work.) Which is why you need that second perspective to not just catch the big mistakes, but tweak all the smaller ones too. RWBY is now a part of WarnerMedia and Before the Dawn was published by Scholastic. There’s a standard here I don’t think either is meeting.

As said previously though, Octavia climbs a tree because Velvet - with faunus eyes - spotted a trinket the others had missed. Octavia falls, Velvet catches her, and a whole swarm of Ravagers show up, which seem to be a bat-like grimm. Nice. My gothic, vampire, Stellaluna loving ass can get behind that.

Behold: my childhood.

They make a run for it and we - finally - get some solidarity as Octavia admits that the relic is technically Velvet’s and Velvet wonders in turn if they can share it. I offered my kingdom for a kind exchange and I got it! Hurray! More importantly, apparently that is an option because the airbus coordinates have shown up on both their scrolls. I’m not going to pretend that I understand how that tech works, but that’s a level of world building we don’t actually need. Not unless the hypothetical of students piggybacking on another’s relic is a part of the evaluation.

I love that Velvet used her camera flash to scare off the Ravager in their way. That’s a fantastic twist on the ‘Velvet will use her semblance and impress Octavia’ expectation as well as a great way to demonstrate that she is a formidable fighter, capable of paying attention to her situation/surroundings and responding accordingly.

There are more Ravagers though, incoming Blind Worms, an avalanche… and the airbus. A narrow escape indeed. Octavia drops that attention-catching, “Thank the Brothers” as they reach safety.

Going back to my earlier point about Shade seeming happy to kill its kids, apparently Velvet and Octavia were the last to reach the bus and Sun told the pilot to wait. That says good things about Sun, but horrible things about the test. If Sun hadn’t insisted on staying would Octavia and Velvet have had a way out? Why in the world wasn’t the pilot told to wait longer?? The whole timeline is confusing, with Sun and Velvet leaving the airship only a short time after everyone else, but it looks like the whole group was way ahead of them (the quarry is empty of both relics and people by the time they arrive), except Sun managed to get super far ahead of Velvet somehow, and their pilot was apparently working under an unspoken deadline… I’m just taking information at face value because if you try to piece it all together, good luck.

Also sorry, but I straight up laughed at Sun’s “You woke up the Ravagers. And you lived to tell the tale.” That is so unnecessarily dramatic. Oh no. Not the Ravagers. Literally the first thing I thought of was some B horror movie like

Coming only to a streaming service near your couch because we’re still living through a pandemic. Wear your masks, friends!

Back to this very entertaining reaction. Sun, you and Velvet have both taken out Atlesian knights, you fought a gigantic sea monster with Blake, and Velvet just bypassed a nest of Ravagers with a simple bright light. If RWBY is going to randomly try and make the grimm threatening again, do it with stuff that actually reads as a significant threat to these fighters. After you’ve got your first years blasting through (Yang) and riding (Nora) bear grimm at initiation, a couple of bat grimm just doesn’t cut it.

Moving on, Velvet’s iffy perspective rears its head once more as she thinks, “What if Sun had passed by the trinket in the tree, knowing it would be too dangerous to retrieve it? She and Octavia had not had that luxury.”

There’s a lot wrong with this theory:

How do you know Sun has better vision, even as a fellow faunus? As Volume 7’s Tyrian attack brought to the surface, supposedly not every faunus has that advantage.

Velvet straight up says that she wasn’t able to see the Ravagers, otherwise she would have warned Octavia about them. The whole point is that they startled her and she fell. So what, Sun not only has faunus vision but better than Velvet’s? (Do monkeys have better vision than rabbits? I have no idea, but this is the kind of stuff I would google if I wanted to potentially draw attention to it in my book).

If that trinket was too dangerous to retrieve, why did the instructors put it there in the first place? Fox mentioned things being unfair with his lack of sight, but that’s a pretty big difference: easy grabs in a supposedly abandoned quarry vs. a grab that wakes up the whole nest of grimm.

“She and Octavia had not had that luxury” why does this sound like another dig at Sun? Like it’s worth criticizing that he… got there first? Got lucky with the relics closer to the floor? Probably because everything is a dig at Sun in this book, including Velvet’s surprise that he might have “respect in his eyes.” Velvet! He was just asking about you, made the bus wait, and has always worn his heart on his sleeve! Sun’s respect/care is not in question, only how he chooses (at times) to display it.

Not that the story seems to get that. We can’t work through Sun’s questionable choices if we’re stuck in this never ending loop of ‘He’s so annoying/incompetent/willfully cruel’ into ‘Hark! is that a positive trait I see?’ and then back to ‘Never mind he’s awful.’ Maybe Velvet’s pride at his reaction to the Ravagers will finally move things forward.

Which is where we leave off. The airbus scares off the other Ravagers with its guns, the group heads back towards Shade (or a second part of the test? That did feel too much like a normal initiation to be fair), and Velvet ends with the equally dramatic line, “The initiation ritual had been hard and almost deadly, and even worse was yet to come: the assignment of the new teams.”

I have to say though, that is the most teen-accurate thought I’ve seen so far. An 18 year old would be more scared of their team social life than getting eaten by a monster lol.

On that note, drop a comment or an ask if you feel like being social yourself and I’ll see you during the next burst of NaNoWriMo energy! 💜

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#rwby #BTD Recaps #Before the Dawn #mymetas

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nileqt87 · 3 years

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More thoughts on how to resurrect the Indiana Jones franchise post-Harrison Ford

Perhaps a proper, modern television show would be a good way to bring back a younger, but adult Indy (with perhaps flashbacks littered throughout). You can also get away with a lot more content (definitely aim for TV-14) and characters who are allowed to be flawed. Relationship dramas are serialized storytelling's forte in a way that is disappearing more and more from blockbuster films. Complicated characters are better left to television, as the audience expects and allows for it because of the nuance and depth the serialization affords. The complicated, messy story of Abner and Marion is a story best left to being explored only after the characters have some real complexity and development. It also wouldn't be forced to play to the mass audience of under-13s that makes modern PG-13 often meaningless. In comparison, TV-14 actually pushes up harder against its limits regularly--not just violence, but also with innuendo and sexuality minus nudity. The amount of historical-style, pulpy violence, not to mention potentially comically gruesome deaths, in Indy would also necessitate the rating. Indiana Jones might be niche enough at this point with an audience veering towards adults who grew up with it (Gen-X and the older end of Gen-Y), while Gen-Z has little awareness of it, that Disney wouldn't be forced to make it a total kiddie property. It's not the same situation as back in the early '90s with Young Indy being aimed at older kids who had recently seen Last Crusade in the theater. They could reboot it for television with a young adult Indy who potentially could grow into a fully adult version. And I wouldn't try too hard to not step on the trilogy's toes with the timeline. Just let it live in its own developing continuity.

Use of long-running supporting cast (parents, Remy and returning guest stars aside) would also be a big difference from Young Indy. Characters like Belloq (could potentially go from friend to antagonist, akin to how Smallville handled Lex), Sallah, Henry, Brody, Abner, Marion, etc... could actually be around a lot more than just for an adventure here or there. These are all characters Indy had clearly known for years. Actually put the show into a seasonal, serialized format that isn't a new cast every episode. You could also stick around in locations a lot longer this way, which would help with budget.

Another thought I've had since watching an absolute ton of fantasy/sci-fi dramas in the last few years is that the influence of Indiana Jones is actually pretty apparent in a number of pretty famous characters, sometimes overtly and sometimes a bit more subtly. Harrison, Indy or Raiders in general are outright name-checked in quite a few places, often by scrappy action hero types who tend to take hard beatings (the kinds of characters who should've died a hundred times over) while in situations they're way over their heads in or literally impossible odds they can't win. Like Indy, the intended prize isn't won at the end and, outside of a few gruesome baddie deaths, the shady, corrupt or evil barely get a dent. Fox Mulder and Dean Winchester are two characters who name-check the comparison overtly and you can see the writers and actors both having the influence in mind. It's obviously a male fantasy, too. The influence on The X-Files and Supernatural is definitely there. Supernatural is chock full of biblical MacGuffins (not to mention having angels and demons as most of its recurring supporting cast), so it would be a hard comparison to avoid. Raiders came up in the WWII Nazi submarine episode with a piece of the Ark onboard (it's subsequently a show to raid for Indy ideas, because they pretty much mined everything biblical), for example. The X-Files likewise was dealing with shady government officials and pretty blatantly copied the huge warehouse of government secrets loaded with alien relics (and then repeated the Cigarette Smoking Man's warehouse reveal with the tunnel of filing cabinets stretching on forever). Mulder was also very much a one-man army a lot of the time when it came to the alien conspiracy (no offense to Scully). Moments like him climbing/riding the tops of sky rides, trains and escaping the spaceship were total Indy-esque moments. Sam and Dean had literal God-tier levels of plot armor keeping them alive (repeated resurrections included). Angel is another one that, unlike Mulder and the Winchesters being very human, is a supernatural character (subsequently his level of pain tolerance and durability is at the level of regular impalement, defenestration out of skyscrapers and being set on fire), but the comparison still holds because of how often he's getting decimated and fighting forces way beyond his pay grade. Wolfram & Hart, the Shanshu and seeking redemption with the Powers that Be, like the mytharc conspiracy/alien takeover and literal God a.k.a. Chuck, is another endless, unwinnable fight that is so far beyond all the protagonists that there's no win/happily ever after and they'd be lucky just walking away from it with nothing. Angel also name-checks Indy with a blatantly Indy-inspired fantasy dream episode (Awakening in season 4) with Angelus making a crack about the Raiders fantasy. George Lucas actually visited the Angel set back in 2000 and was interested in how they were making mini movies every week and doing some pretty huge stunts on television. David Boreanaz had lunch with Lucas and has talked about it a few times over the many years. I mean, these are all shows starring action-oriented leading men and writing staffs of relatively similar age. Mostly Gen-X males with a few Baby Boomers (more so on the writing staff) with an audience that's primarily Gen-Y but appealing to a pretty broad age range (and probably a lot more female than originally intended!). Star Wars, Indiana Jones and Harrison Ford films in general were very formative to that generation. Harrison Ford is the ultimate leading man action star to a certain generation. Gen-Y got their familiarity with all of that by being the original home video/VHS generation and subsequently a lot more familiar with retro media (including things that were made before they were born or around that time) than Gen-Z. '80s movies have a lot of currency and familiarity still with Gen-Y, even if Baby Boomers were the stars of them and Gen-X were the ones who saw them in theaters. Gen-Y fangirls absolutely dominate the fandoms of many iconic television supernatural/sci-fi franchises (many are admittedly aging franchises). The WB/CW have catered to this group of fans for the last two and a half decades. If you're going to be reviving the character as a mid-20s-to-30s version (if the show lasts long enough, it probably will be stepping on the trilogy's toes timeline-wise by the end), I'd absolutely be aiming for this same audience and their tastes. They're also the audience who would be most receptive to and familiar with the character, IMO. If I were going to reinvent Indiana Jones for the television landscape, I would definitely be looking at those sorts of shows that have influence from the character already in their DNA. I think for the target audience, they'd definitely need to be aiming it at the same fanbases. Young Indy mostly tried to avoid stepping on Raiders' toes (despite Temple of Doom and Mask of Evil already making it ludicrous) by limiting the amount of supernatural elements, but I think a show would have to go all in on it. Indy would have to be transformed a bit in regards to trying to line him up with a character who would still be skeptical after all he's seen. Young Indy ended up forced into being a straight period drama with educational elements, which is very counter to what the audience wanted. There are things to keep from that approach (meeting historical persons, being a WWI veteran and witnessing history could absolutely be mined as backdrops to the stories), but the supernatural elements would have to exist in a revival now to get the audience who I think would be most receptive to it. While I would aim for a serialized drama format that would mean the globetrotting wouldn't have to completely change locations every episode (have it instead in arcs with some bigger MacGuffins and baddies perhaps crossing entire seasons), it's true that there would probably have to be more location filming than good, ol' Vancouver, but Disney is one of the few who could afford it (though Covid certainly would throw a wrench in it and political situations could potentially kill off certain locations). There's only so much green screen that Indy could get away with, though I imagine that a fair amount of it would have to be used for period piece reasons alone. There are a lot of modern intrusions even in historically-intact cities (Eastern Europe comes to mind as having a lot of its architecture intact and is affordable to film in) and around iconic landscapes to paint out. But at its core, it probably would need to bulk up its focus on the relationship dramas. Indy tends to have a girl at every port and to a degree you would introduce some of these love interests, but there's still a lot of relationships of every kind that could be developed and serialized. Certainly throw in a few femme fatales and tragic losses, given the Smallville-esque situation of there being an inevitable Indy/Marion endgame that should be kept--it thus becomes about the journey when it's a set conclusion. Absolutely have a strong recurring cast of Henry and friends new and old. The films actually have a lot of characters that Indy didn't just meet yesterday and could be developed to a huge extent. For a show to work now, there'd have to be a lot more connectivity to how often the recurring cast appear. Young Indy had a lot more of an anthology format with little chance of us getting attached to most of the revolving cast outside of a very tiny few. That's the biggest thing I'd change. You need characters to become regulars beyond just Indy if it were revived for modern cinematic television (the true successor to the film serials of the '30s!) in a way that isn't necessary for film installments.

#indana jones #harrison ford #lucasfilm #indy #young indy

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tlbodine · 3 years

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Literary vs Genre Fiction

The divide between literary and genre fiction is one of those topics that gets endlessly debated in writer circles. You’ll see it making the rounds on social media every time a book gets some buzz for busting out of its category. You’ll hear it in MFA programs across the country. But what even is literary fiction? How is it actually different from genre fiction? Is one better than the other? Why does anybody care?

A lot of smart people before me have thrown their hat in this particular ring, but I’m going to try tackling this one anyway.

First Off: What Do We Mean When We Say “Literary Fiction”?

Defining the thing is almost the hardest part of this whole discussion, and that may be part of the reason why people argue so endlessly about the literary vs genre divide -- if you don’t have a clear definition of the categories, that divide can be drawn up just about anywhere.

So before we dig into characteristics of literary fiction, let’s look at some clear examples. The Booker Prize is a literary award specifically given to works of literary fiction, so it stands to reason that winners of that award would be the best examples of the category, right? Here are some recent Booker Prize winners (as pulled from Powell’s bookstore):

Margaret Atwood - The Testaments The sequel to A Handmaid's Tale, told as testaments from three female narrators in Gilead, a dystopian setting where women have been stripped of their rights.

Bernardine Evaristo - Girl, Woman, Other Twelve central characters, mostly black British women, lead intersecting lives with struggles of identity, race, sexuality, class, etc.

Anna Burns - Milkman A girl identified as "middle sister" catches the unwanted attention of "the milkman," a local paramilitary, and has to deal with the threat of violence and spread of rumors.

George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo A father-and-son story about Abraham Lincoln and the 11-year-old son who died of illness in the midst of the civil war, leading to them both struggling in a type of purgatory.

Paul Beatty - The Sellout A satire about an isolated young man who ends up at a Supreme Court race trial after trying to reinstate slavery and segregate the local high school in an attempt to put his town back on the map.

One thing becomes immediately clear about literary fiction when skimming through the titles and summaries of these award-winning books: These novels are well-nigh impossible to summarize in a way that actually sounds enticing.

So okay. What are some genre fiction books, for comparison? There are genre fiction awards, like for example the Hugo award for Sci-Fi/Fantasy:

Mary Robinette Kowal - The Calculating Stars A cataclysmic meteor collision in 1952 causes an accelerated effort to colonize space, leading to a woman fighting to join the astronaut team in this alternate-history book.

N. K. Jemisin - The Stone Sky The third in a trilogy of post-apocalyptic novels about two women with the power to avert destruction of mankind.

Cixin Liu - The Three-Body Problem Against the backdrop of China's Cultural Revolution, a secret military project makes contact with aliens whose civilization is on the brink of destruction, leading them to plan a takeover of earth.

There’s also the Edgar Award, which is given to mystery fiction (it’s named after Edgar Allan Poe):

James A McLaughlin - Bearskin A man on the run takes a job as a park ranger, but runs the risk of being found by the men he's hiding from when he tries to expose some poachers.

Walter Mosley - Down the River Unto the Sea After spending a decade in prison for a crime he was framed for, former-detective King works as a private investigator whose investigation of his own frame-up leads him to cross paths of a journalist with a similar story.

Sujata Massey - Widows of Malabar Hill In 1920s India, Bombay's only female lawyer investigates a suspicious will on behalf of three Muslim widows, a case that takes a murderous turn.

These aren’t the best summaries in the world, but there does seem to be a stronger sense of both plot and character in the story concepts. At least, when someone asks, “What’s that book you’re reading about?” the genre fiction ones will have a somewhat easier time explaining it.

So What REALLY Separates Literary From Genre Fiction?

There are a lot of battle lines drawn between genre and literary fiction. I’ve heard it argued that literary is about character while genre is about plot; that literary is about the quality of the prose while genre is about the story; that literary is about experimenting while genre is about adhering to formulas. That literary is about expanding horizons while genre is about escapism and comfort. That literary is about realism and genre fiction is about fabulism.

I think there’s a nugget of truth in all of these, but I’m not really happy with any of them.

So I’m going to toss out my own hypothesis: I think the difference between literary and genre fiction is the way tropes are employed.

“Okay, great, but what are tropes?”

I’m so glad you asked. Fiction tropes are a type of shorthand. They are things that we the audience have seen before, so we know immediately what they mean. Tropes exist in characters, plot points, settings, concepts -- you name it. Here’s a sampling of tropes you might be familiar with:

The tough lady-cop whose dad was a police officer

Thanks to a mix-up, two people with hidden romantic feelings book the last available room at a hotel but there’s only one bed

A man goes on a quest for vengeance but destroys himself in the process

The wise old man who teaches the young hero valuable lessons but then dies before the pivotal battle

And so on, and so forth. Every genre has its own tropes -- a formula, if you will. In that sense, genre fiction is formulaic, but that doesn’t make it easier to write; actually, a big part of the challenge is in giving fresh twists to familiar tropes. Readers of genre stories demand certain tropes; the author has to deliver on those demands in a fresh way.

By comparison, I would argue that literary fiction does not rely upon tropes. There certainly are tropes and conventions that emerge in literary fiction -- a middle-aged academic struggling through divorce, for example -- but these tropes are more often than not met with irritation, not delight. Readers of literary fiction are looking for fresh insights and innovations, not familiarity.

Tropes are powerful tools. They are the mythic seed of storytelling. They are the archetypes that pass down through generations. They are a sacred backbone of mythology and folklore. Genre fiction, at the end of the day, carries the torch for storytelling in a long and (ha, ha) storied tradition from our prehistoric days huddled around a campfire.

Literary fiction, on the other hand, eschews tropes -- with their agreed-upon meanings -- in favor of assigning fresh meanings to things. Literary fiction is chock full of metaphors, but it’s the author, not convention, that determines what those metaphors mean and how they’re employed. Literary fiction reinvents the wheel. When it succeeds, it hits on depth and emotional resonance that can be life-changing for the reader. When it fails, it comes off like so much navel-gazing nonsense. So it goes.

Fiction Wars and Gatekeeping

The problem with the literary vs genre fiction divide is that it never stops with “This is how these categories are defined.” The problem is that people will insist on ascribing moral significance and hierarchy to them.

Literary fiction is viewed as being smarter, deeper, more meaningful or more valuable than genre fiction. If a genre fiction story manages to break out and gain wider appeal, suddenly people will start ascribing to it literary attributes (whether or not the book and many others in the genre had them all along). And that is all a bunch of nonsense.

It’s the exact same thing that happens in horror fiction -- when a horror story goes mainstream, suddenly it becomes a “psychological thriller” or a “dark drama” or anything other than horror, because “horror” is an inferior genre.

The fact of the matter is that literary fiction gets elevated over genre fiction for systemic reasons:

Most MFA programs focus on writing literary fiction, which means that a lot of lit-fic authors come out of those programs, which means that literary fiction is often the domain of upper-middle-class, frequently white, people who can afford to graduate from those programs

A focus on dense prose and “difficult” writing means lit-fic books must be analyzed and interpreted; it’s hard to read, making it exclusionist to people who lack formal education

Lit-fic dominates awards, gets pushed heavily onto book clubs, is talked about more often on daytime TV and so forth (because it is perceived as being better/more important, thus creating the ongoing cycle)

Basically, lit-fic gets held up as an example of Fine Culture. And any time something is designated as Fine Culture and High Art, it is subject to a completely arbitrary classist distinction meant primarily to keep out an undesirable element (women, BIPOC, poor people, you name it).

That’s not a problem endemic to lit-fic itself. It’s really a problem of the culture surrounding it, and attempts to hold it to a higher esteem than genre work.

Cross-Pollination Is Inevitable and Desirable

How do tropes get made?

Someone comes up with a new metaphor, concept, character, or idea that resonates so deeply that others who follow borrow that same thing and its meaning, and it gets repeated enough times that it becomes a stock trope.

In other words, every single piece of genre fiction exists because someone writing in some other established tradition decided to experiment and go off on a tangent to create something really fresh and new -- and knocked it so far out of the park that people were compelled to follow.

People like to pretend that the overlap and blurred lines between genre and literary fiction are somehow a new trend, but the fact is that this has been the trajectory of fiction-writing for the whole history of storytelling.

Literary agents have a term for this: Upmarket fiction. Books that “transcend” genre definitions to appeal to readers on either side of the aisle. And those are highly sought-after books, because they have the potential of bringing in double the readers.

So, snobby gatekeeping aside, is there any real reason to argue about the definition of literary vs genre fiction?

I’d say...no. Not even a little bit. I’ve got a mix of both on my shelves. I incorporate a mix of both in my writing. And I don’t see that changing any time soon.

A Final Note

I mentioned above that lit-fic tends to be written by people in MFA programs, and I wanted to touch on that again as an MFA drop-out and someone who was once warned by a teacher not to bring “any more of that genre nonsense” into the classroom.

I can understand, from a teaching perspective, why writer’s workshops would want to focus on lit-fic. From the perspective of learning how to write, forcing writers to derive stories from their experiences, to dig deep into themselves and ascribe unique meaning to things, to develop their own metaphors and hone their craft at the sentence level -- all of that makes a lot of sense. Banning genre tropes is a way to force writers to hone their craft without leaning on the work of generations of storytellers before them, and as a teaching tool I think that’s actually really valuable.

But I think it’s pretty important that we keep that in context. The lit-fic focus in writing classes should be a teaching tool first and foremost. It should not be the end-all and be-all of writing classes.

This post topic was voted on by my Patreon subscribers. If you would like to vote for future posts and get early access to posts before they go live on tumblr, you can become a patron here: https://www.patreon.com/tlbodine

#writing #literary fiction #genre fiction #on writing #long post

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sassykittynoir · 4 years

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The Fashion Rebellion of Adrien Agreste || Part I

Pairing: Adrinette (Marinette Dupain-Cheng x Adrien Agreste) Warnings: Mention of alcohol consumption. Words Count: 1,8k words.

A/N: I would like to say a huge thanks to my dear friend @smileytrinity for her infinite patience and help and support, as well as @helgabatwrittings who motivated me to write this. @miraculouslyinloveagain, @sparklesfriend4700-blog I hope you’ll enjoy this Adrinette. Well, I hope everyone does. <3

His plan was devious. If Plagg's giggles were any indication, Adrien would say he had crossed the line between mischief and Machiavellian by a long shot... alright, maybe it was an overstatement.

"What you’re doing is more dabbling into little shit territory than being an evil menace.” Plagg drawled over his shoulders, only to shrug in disinterest when Adrien remarked that Plagg's barometer was skewed when it came to chaos and mischief.

Evil misdoings or shenanigans, Adrien couldn't bring himself to care or feel an ounce of guilt. After all, a taste of his own medicine wouldn't kill his father.

The whole thing had started a few months ago. He didn't know how such an innocent idea had gotten so out of hand. But, could anyone blame him for wanting to get back at his father when his actions were marred by his malicious intent?

Adrien had once believed his father was an overprotective parent, but, as the years went by, gone was the blind trust he had placed in the adults of his life. The Lucid maturity replaced the juvenile naivety. The perfect family facade had long since shattered, a cold truth seeping inches by inches in its cracks.

The idea blossomed into a fully-fledged plot almost overnight. Mere hours after his father — well Nathalie — had informed Adrien that he couldn't attend Marinette's picnic because his schedule had been modified to accommodate a last minute photoshoot. He had been so irritated that —

“ — I really want to get back at him.” Adrien hissed, plopping down on Chloe's bed. He felt bad for the glare he directed at Mr.cuddly. The poor bear didn't deserve it.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand why you want to attend this dwee — Marinette’s” — Chloe relented at Adrien’s pointed look — “Marinette’s picnic.” Chloe rolled her eyes in disdain, applying the finishing touch to her makeup: a glittery peach lip gloss. ”But this is utterly ridiculous. You're eighteen! You should have the freedom to go wherever you want to. You’ll have wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”

Adrien couldn't help the small huff of amusement falling past his lips. He took a deep breath in order to calm down. The last thing he needed was to be akumatized before the charity gala he was attending even began. At least Chloe — whom he considered his sister — would be attending as well.

“I have the perfect solution!” Chloe wiped out her phone, typing furiously until she reached the homepage of Versace’s online shop. “Retail therapy helps wonder. Care to put a dent in daddy dearest’s fortune?” She turned to face Adrien a grin on her face, the skirt of her haute couture dress swirling in a flurry of sequined organza.

“You know he doesn't care about my shopping sprees, Chlo. I wouldn't have a climbing wall in my bed room if he did.” Adrien sighed suddenly deflated and laid his cheek atop of Mr. Cuddly’s head. He did give the best cuddles.

Chloe’s only answer was an noncommittal hum and joined Adrien’s on the bed. In an uncharacteristic gesture of comfort, she rested her hand on Adrien’s thigh “Do you know what he cares about? Your pretty face.”

“Go on.” He encouraged, cocking one eyebrow up in interest, mood perking up.

“What could make a designer angrier than seeing the face of his brand, his ambassador, publicly endorsing another brand?”

Adrien could have kissed Chloe in sheer gratitude. “Chloe, you're a genius!”

“Yeah, I know. I'm just misunderstood.” she scoffed, one hand twirling a curl of hair framing her face.

—

“We don't have all night! Post it or don't, but make your decision. All this hesitation is ruining my appetite.” Plagg whined. How he could manage to sound so childish yet so disdainful at the same time was beyond Adrien’s understanding. Yet, the kwami had no trouble accomplishing such feat while sitting on Adrien’s shoulders, a slice of Camembert between his paws.

“Thanks for the moral support.” Adrien muttered. So what if he had been sprawled on his bed for the past hour, phone in hands debating whether he should be posting the video or not. To be petty, or not to be? That was the question. An existential question, one might add, as his finger hovered the share button on his screen. Teeth worrying his bottom lip. Should he really listen to the little devil on his shoulders? Should he even consider his opinion when his brain was still muddled? He had too many cocktails, tonight.

“You’re thinking too loudly.” Plagg complained, words stretching around a yawn. “There!” he hissed, flying over Adrien’s shoulders to press share. “I posted it for you. It’ll teach your old man a lesson.”

“Plagg!!” Adrien whispered, venom lacing his tone. “I can’t believe you did that! Two minutes in the drawer of shame!” He spat, opening the top drawer of his nightstand.

An indignant scoff bubbled out the kwami’s throat. He titled his chin up in defiance as he plopped down on the plush pillows installed in the drawer of shame. “Just so you know, I’m going there on my own volition. A drawer full of silk pillows is hardly what I call a punishment.” he declared, petulant.

“For someone who is supposed to be offended, you're certainly not eager to delete the video.” Plagg delivered the coup de grace in a disconcerting nonchalance, before eating his slice of cheese. As frustrated as Adrien was with Plagg, he had to admit, the idea had not crossed his mind once.

“I'm deleting it now.” Adrien declared just because he could, yet he made no effort to move.

"Huh huh. Sure you will!" Plagg retorted back. It took Adrien all the force he could muster not to dignify the tiny cat with an answer. He would be the better person.

—

It had taken 8 hours of beauty sleep, for Adrien to wrap his head around the fact that he posted such a video of himself. He almost regretted his decision not to delete it upon waking up. Almost, but his head was pounding and he was never drinking alcohol ever again. After all, he did post, on Instagram, a 1:06 minutes long video of himself — two dry martinis away from drunkenness — singing along, no, belting along the lyrics ”Versace On the Floor” by Bruno Mars featuring Chloe’s judging looks, just to get back at his father. And yet, Adrien couldn't fight the feeling of satisfaction surging through his body when he noticed that #Versace was trending on all social media.

The video going viral in a matter of hours? Expected. Fans sliding into his DMs?Anticipated. Nino freaking out over texts? Typical.

What he hadn't counted on, however, was his video being broadcast on TV. Adrien watched with stupor as a journalist reported — with supporting images — how crowds of fan girls were waiting in queues outside of Versace’s boutiques to buy a dress. “Versace sales skyrocket after model video goes viral” read the words in bold yellow letters. He chocked on his eggs Benedict, eyes watering as he forced the food down his throat.

“Oh, I’m was screwed. Father is going to kill me.” Adrien whispered to himself, voice barely audible over Plagg’s laughter.

—

”Dude you decided to kill the internet overnight? Were you drunk? Are you sure your old man isn’t going to kill you? You were on the news! The news, bro! -- every girl been gush-- ”

Adrien was trying to pay attention to Nino, he really was, but his attention was otherwise diverted by Marinette and Alya’s conversation.

"He looked like an angel, so handsome. The disheveled look with the undone bow tie, and open dress shirt.” Marinette sighed. Adrien could hear the smile in her voice.

”Yeah, I know...” Alya interrupted, somewhat amused. ”-- He looked so good in his suit. His pant hugged his ass so perfectly. You've been gushing about him for two days, Marinette, two days.” Adrien knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but who was Marinette talking about? Not that he cared, really. It was none of his business who Marinette was crushing on. She was just a friend. But why did he felt a sudden pang in his chest at the thought that a boy had caught his friend’s attention. ”I get it! Sunshine was stunning in that video.”

Wait. Hold on. What?!

If sunshine was Adrien and Adrien was sunshine, did it mean Marinette had been talking about him? The Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Beautiful, creative, kind, intelligent Marinette? Marinette who was standing in front of him and currently paying for her caramel macchiato with a dash of cinnamon? That couldn’t be possible.

Adrien.exe had stopped running. The epiphany short-circuited his brain. His eyes widened ever so slightly as the information finally sank in. His heart squeezed, then skipped a beat. And —

His train of thoughts came to a skidding halt.

"Dude, it's rude to stare at Marinette's butt like that.” Nino whispered in his ears and despite the fried synapses in his brain, Adrien still had the presence of mind to let out a noncommittal hum as an answer. Then, Nino’s words registered. A second too late if the knowing smile tugging at the corners of Nino’s lips was any indication. Blood rushed to his cheeks, tinting them a soft pink.

"You're totally blushing too! Are those thoughts appropriate?"

"I- I - I wasn't checking her out! ” Adrien stammered. Head shaking in disapproval. ”Marinette’s just... a friend. Yeah, a friend!” He forced the words out of his mouth in a breathless pant. ”Is she really though?” A treacherous part of mind wondered. Adrien didn't have to be a psychic to know — from the smug look on his best friend’s face — that Nino was about to ask the same question.

”Oh shut up, Nino.” He mumbled, words devoid of any real vehemence. He was definitely not checking out Marinette’s butt. Not that Marinette’s butt wasn’t worthy of being checked out. She had a nice butt, and the way her skin tight jeans were hugging her in all the right places, leaving almost little to the imagination...Her legs, her toned, long, legs that seemed to go on for miles... Marinette was just perfect... From a perfectly platonic friend’s point of view, of course. It was just a friendly observation. Those were cute jeans, as a model he was bound to notice them.

”You're still doing it.” Nino teased a second time, in his ears. The look Adrien threw his way was cold enough to freeze over the arctic ocean. Global warning solved with just one look.

A few minutes later, when the four of them were walking to their usual table in the coffee shop, drinks in hands. When Alya asked him “what’s got you so flustered, Sunshine? After the hip trusts in that video, it be must be quite something if it impresses you, huh? Adrien knew he was never getting out of this alive. He was royally screwed.

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #adrinette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #chat noir #ladybug #plagg #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #chloe bourgeois #Moon writes

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scribble-scrabbles · 3 years

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Writing Prompt - “Wrong Timeline”

[WP] You’re doing research in an old library when a stranger comes running up to you. They go to give you a hug while saying, “My love.” You flinch away and their expression falls. Under their breath they say, “Fuck. Wrong timeline.”

...based on these findings, we can conclude that the enzymatic reaction is stable at physiological pH, and thus…

My eyelids drag coarsely across my weary eyes as I blink up at the time. I'd been waist deep in journal articles in the ancient half of the university library for hours, and everything was blurring together, getting me nowhere. Another day wasted. I sighed, gently closing the journal and placing it back in it's spot on the table, where dozens of books and journals littered the workspace. I closed my eyes and inhaled the musky scent of old books and old buildings, letting my thoughts drift as they wished, relinquishing control.

I was 2 years into a PhD program, researching the biochemical processes of aging and going nowhere in the meantime. The whole field was chock full of pseudoscience and impossible to prove theoreticals, resulting in a metric fuck-ton of useless drivel that I needed to parse through while writing my thesis. Trying to be a “serious scientist” in a field of superficial commercial products was exhausting and disheartening. And yet, like all budding scientists, I felt my cause was righteous - that unlocking the mechanisms of aging would let us reverse senility and save those we held most dear. It was a pipe dream, and I knew it, but I clung to the hope that one day this would all mean something. I peered at the stacks on my table and sighed, rubbing my temples and feeling the headache starting there.

Time for a change of scenery. I thought to myself, standing and stretching. I was deep in the stacks of the older section of the library building, where largely forgotten volumes of scientific journals and old medical texts were housed. The room was largely silent, minus the hum of the ventilation system and occasional creak of the floor above me. I liked it here, wrapped in solitude and blanketed in the smell of books and old wood, as opposed to the laboratory or classroom where I was constantly asked questions I couldn’t answer about where my project was heading and what, exactly, it was that I wanted to accomplish here. A female in academia isn’t exactly new, nowadays, but a female in academia studying biochemistry in a laboratory that also tested makeup and skin care products was treated as a joke.

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I turn to go back to the main library when I hear a faint “pop” somewhere in the stacks beside me. I know the odd pops and creaks this wing makes well enough, and I’m stuck with the sensation that I am no longer alone. I shift to see into the cluster of shelves and see a figure moving among the rows. How did someone get past me without me seeing them?

“Hello?” I call, “Sorry, I have a whole bunch of journals over here on the table, so if you can’t find what you’re looking for you may want to…” I trail off as the figure moves into the open. He’s a tall, slender college student, and he looks at me with a sudden warmness and recognition that sends a flush of embarrassment through me. I’ve never seen this man before in my life, but he’s looking at me as though I am his oldest friend.

“Oh thank goodness! My love!” He rushes towards me, moving to embrace me. I flinch backwards, suddenly alarmed, running through every potential acquaintance in my memory and coming up blank. I am absolutely sure I have never seen this man before in my life. He stops, his warmness instantly replaced by despair. “Fuck!” He exclaims. “Wrong timeline. Again.” He drops his hands to his pockets and averts his gaze. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am.” I stand in stunned silence, gripping my purse. His green eyes flick back up to mine, briefly, and I see what seems like true sorrow there.

“Does that line ever actually work on anybody?” He stares at me, confused. “Because, I mean, I have to admit it’s unique but a little bit over the top.” I smile at him, and after a moment, he returns it.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He snorts out a short laugh, still obviously embarrassed. “You look just like someone I know.”

“Someone you love, you mean? She must be pretty special.”

The stranger looks at his shoes. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Why did you think she’d be here? I’m pretty much the only one who ever uses this section of the library - at least for the past few months.”

“Ah, well..” he rocks back and forth on his heels, “She’s been working on this project for astrophysics and I thought I’d find her here.”

“Well, there’s your problem.” I laugh. “This is the medical wing.” He looks up sharply.

“Medical?”

“Yeah, pretty sure it has been for at least 2 years or so now. Probably a whole lot longer than that.”

“You’re in the medical field?”

“Well no, not exactly. I’m in a biochemistry program, but I’m studying the aging process and…”

“Oh, well,” he starts, then pauses, “that’s different.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I feel heat rising to my cheeks. “Because I’m a girl and I’m…” he holds his hand up soothingly.

“No, no! I just mean…” he trails off. I cock and eyebrow at him, waiting. He sighs. “I just mean, you’ve never done this before.”

“Well of course I’ve never done this before, it’s not like I have other PhD’s just lying around.”

He meets my eyes for a moment, seeming to weigh his options. Then he shrugs and says “I mean, in every alternative universe, I’ve never once seen you pursue medicine. It just...isn’t you. You’ve always been a physicist and a damn good one. I just have a hard time seeing you as anything else.”

“I….what?”

He sighs. “Your name is Rachel Turner. You grew up in Huntsville, Alabama where you were supposed to get interested in rocket science and physics. I don’t know what diverted that, but I know that in every other timeline, you still love books, terrible movies, and have a soft spot for old things and history.” I shift uncomfortably and he laughs softly. “And when you’re uncomfortable you push your hair back behind your ears like that, and shift your weight to your left foot.” I straighten, and consciously shift my weight back to my right. “You’re stubborn and fierce and have never encountered a puzzle you couldn’t tease apart.” The twinkle in his eyes falters, slightly, “Until you open the portal.”

“Was I your TA or something?”

“What?” He looked confused.

“Is that how you know so much about me? Are you stalking me?”

“What, no, I…”

“Because if you did you’re a terrible stalker. I only lived in Alabama until I was 3, we moved when my father died and my mother needed to go back to Ohio to find work and be closer to family.”

“Your dad died?”

“Yeah, early onset dementia.”

“...which is why you’re studying aging.” He nods, satisfied. ”Look, I’m sorry for scaring you and wasting your time. I’ll let you get back to your work.” He motions to the stack of books on the table.” He turned to go back into the stacks.

“Wait!” I exclaim, before I know what I’m saying. He looks back at me over his shoulder and smiles.

“You may want to find Sam Albertson over in the physics department.” He says, turning back to walk away. “But he’s not going to remember any of this though.”

I stood, stunned and watched him disappear into the stacks. I heard another faint “pop” a few seconds later and the sound snapped me out of my confusion. I rushed into the stacks after him, but found nothing. I searched and searched, feeling along the walls, looking for hidden openings, until the library lights flipped on and off flipped on and off three times, signaling that it was about to close. I returned to my table, looking all around for any clues of the stranger’s identity or where he could have gone. Had I really just met a time traveler? Could such a thing really be possible?

I shook my head, thinking it was more likely that I had just fallen asleep while reading my articles.

As I made my way back to my apartment, I remembered the name he had given me and decided to search for “Sam Albertson” on social media. I nearly dropped my phone when the stranger’s green eyes looked back at me from his profile picture.

“That little fuck.” I whispered, heading towards the physics department. He was a graduate student, so maybe he would be there this late in the evening. He was published on a paper describing faster-than-light travel models, which gave me a place to start looking. My heart thundered in my chest, a mixture of rage and embarrassment, as I ran up the steps of the physics building. I looked briefly at the directory, then started making my way towards the quantum research labs. Halfway down the hall, my annoyance became tinged with terror. Why was I looking for my stalker in a mostly empty building at night? What if he was dangerous? My steps slowed as I came to the door. Did I really want to do this? I froze, suddenly acutely aware of the insanity of my undertaking. My thoughts whirled through a hundred possible scenarios, not one of them favorable. I turned, and started quickly back down the hallway. All of this could wait until morning, until after I had eaten and slept and had a clearer head.

The door opened behind me, and I reflexively quickened my steps.

“Can I help you?” A voice called after me. I stopped, chagrined, and slowly turned to face him.

Behind me stood Sam Albertson, just as he had stood before me in the library a few hours ago. Except, not the same, I realized, as I took him in. In the library, his hair was longer and shaggier, and his face held a whisper of stubble that made him look older and more rugged. The Sam in front of me now was clean shaven, with short, but still unruly hair. His green eyes looked at me curiously.

“Sorry.” I muttered. “I was just…” He took a couple of hesitant steps towards me. My mind was racing, trying to make everything make sense.

“Are you okay?” He said, curiosity shifting to concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I shook myself, trying to fit the pieces together. You’ve never encountered a puzzle you couldn’t tease apart, the stranger had said. The stranger. Not the man in front of me. I suddenly knew exactly what I was going to do. I straightened and extended my hand. “I’m Rachel,” I said. “I’m thinking about changing my major.”

Sam grinned, taking my hand. “Oh yeah, what are you interested in?”

I grinned back. “Tell me about alternative universes.”

#reddit #writing prompt #creative writing #time travel #alternative universe #alternative timeline #short stories #fiction

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inmyarmswrappedin · 4 years

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Hmmm, I’m not sure I entirely agree with the take that Isak/Even were presented as “cosmic soulmates” because s3 literally ended with Isak saying that he wasn’t sure that Even was the man of his life (but he was just glad to have met him). I know that bothered some people but I always thought it showed a maturity in Isak realizing that relationships take work and that not everything is gonna be sunshine and roses. Then obviously in s4 we mostly only saw them from an outside POV so we didn’t

get a lot of true insight into their relationship, but in Even’s clip it was shown that he felt insecure/wasn’t good enough, but then we saw that he was able to be there for Isak just as much as he felt Isak had been there for him. So I think the OG was also able to present the good and bad in their relationship in a realistic way (although I do agree that some of the other remakes have definitely tried to play up the “soulmates” thing between their Evaks). [2/2]

Hi there anon 💫 I want to clarify that when I made the addition to Janie’s ask, I in no way meant to shit on Isak, Even, their relationship or SKAM itself. In fact, the point I was trying to make is that it took me a while to really come to love Cris and Joana the way I do now, because I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing compared to Isak and Even.

I 100% agree that Isak got a lot of undeserved backlash in fandom for daring to to tell Eva that he wasn’t sure Even was the man of his dreams (but he was still glad to have met him). And I agree that Isak saying that meant he was approaching the relationship with maturity, more seeing Even for who Even is as a person and less for who Isak wanted him to be when he first said Even was the man of his dreams.

On the other hand I said “There’s less of a cosmic soulmatery imagery aura around [Cris and Joana, compared to Isak and Even, and David and Matteo]“ and I stand by that. Isak and Even’s story is chock-full of references to the idea that Isak and Even are fated to fall in love with each other in every universe. And even after Isak and Even decide to take it minutt for minutt, both characters seem to still derive enjoyment/comfort/amusement/what-have-you out of that “predestined to happen” concept. Their wifi (or wifi password, I can’t remember) is “yellow curtains”. Even’s birthday movie for Isak is “The boy who couldn’t hold his breath underwater,” which is a reference to their Romeo + Juliet kiss. (And if you’re that conversant with Isak/Even lore, you know which s4 moments directly referenced fanwork, so I won’t get into that.)

I almost want to ask if you’ve watched Skam España because Cris and Joana are simply not like that, and I just don’t know how to make that point without literally going over their every scene and compare it line for line with Isak/Even. Like, it is that obvious to me that if you’ve watched Skam and Skam España, the way both couples are written is different, to a point where I’m surprised that the difference needs to be explained.

At no point the writing for Cris and Joana suggests that the characters are predestined, fated, that they’ll be together infinitely in infinite universes. When Joana talks to Cris at the world’s worst party, she tells Cris to please remember the good moments, like the pool kiss. Neither Cris nor Joana are building a mythos around their love and relationship. The pool kiss is simply a good memory, on the same level as Eva and Jorge having sex in some strangers’ lobby. And you might think from the way I’m describing both couples that I think Isak/Even is the lesser of the two for not being like Cris/Joana, but that’s the exact opposite of what I’m trying to say. What I meant to say (and did in fact say on the other post) is that for the longest time I felt something was missing from Cris/Joana because they weren’t like Isak/Even, while I now feel the team’s approach to Cris/Joana is just as valuable.

I also want to clarify that this isn’t about Realism™, about Cris/Joana being more realistic than Isak/Even or David/Matteo, or vice versa. When I say that Cris and Joana are literally modelling how to have a relationship for teenie wlws, I’m thinking of it both from an educational and life imitating art perspective. NOT realism. I’m going to spell it out here. People absorb how to have relationships with others based on what they see, whether it’s their parents, their friends’ parents or what they see on the media. Queer kids are way less likely to have queer couples in their lives, so they turn to examples on the media in order to answer questions as basic as, “who asks whom to Sadie Hawkins when it’s two girls?” Does that explain what I mean? Before Cris and Joana, I had never seen a wlw relationship where the series showed how to handle relationship conflict in a way that is healthy and uplifting for both parts of the couple.

Did Isak/Even do this in s4? (When their relationship is stable and established, and not a week old, as in the s3 finale.) I would argue no. We know Isak is jealous of Mikael, and we know Even feels insecure and like he doesn’t give Isak as much as he received from him. But we don’t see them fight about this (like Cris and Joana fought over Cris drinking) or even talk about their mutual insecurities. Did they ever talk about it? What happened after Even took Isak to the hospital in s4e5? Did Isak ever find out that Even contemplated suicide in the fallout of his kissing Mikael? Does Even know Isak punched Mikael because he was jealous? Is that why he feels Isak gives Even more than Even gives Isak? Or is it something else? We have all these strands of conflict, but we’re never shown how Isak and Even resolved them, if they indeed did.

(And to be clear, we weren’t given the scene where Cris and Joana talk about Cris drinking either, but we were shown, 1. that Joana was upset at Cris at that one party. 2. Cris telling the girls why Joana was upset. 3. how Joana dealt with being upset (constantly trying to reach Cris on her phone) and how overwhelmed Cris was by that. 4. Cris venting to her friends. 5. Cris texting the girls to say she’d talked to Joana and the concessions they each made. 6. Cute content to show everything was A-OK after the fight.)

Once again, I am not saying Isak/Even are bad, or that they’re less in comparison to Cris and Joana. I love Isak and Even. I just feel like Julie Andem, and the Druck team, and the Skam España team, are trying to do different things with these three couples and that is okay. In no way am I trying to say that one is more valid than the others, I love them all, and they each give me different things, and just because A gives me X and B gives me Y doesn’t mean I think X is more important than Y or A is better than B. I hope this full on essay assuaged your concerns. 😜

#ask #skam #skam españa #Anonymous

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