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brodieland · 18 days

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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 always matching, now the matched ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!Eros!Reader Synopsis: She's cupid, but doesn't believe in love. Yet here comes Percy Jackson, believing other wise Warning(s): potty words, LOL! Word Count: 4420 PART 2

Y/N Y/L/N, daughter of Eros, also known more famously among mortals as Cupid.

When Y/N first arrived at camp, she wasn't claimed yet. While stuck in the Hermes cabin, she would listen into a lot of gossip (Hermes kids loved to gossip!!). When she had heard about her new friend Silena Beauregard and her ongoing crush on the Hephaestus boy, Charles Beckendorf, Y/N decided to step in. She would be on both ends giving each other advice on one another. Eventually she finally got Bechendorf to ask the amazing Silena out on a date, a real date and not the friendly hanging out they did before that.

The next day when they finally announced to their friends that they were in a relationship, above you appeared a bow and arrow surrounded by hearts. At first they were confused until Chrion announced Y/N was being claimed by the god Eros. The god of desire, erotic love, attraction and affection. Ever since then, she lived up to her legacy at camp, and always had people asking her for advice on love.

Love.

Despite being camp Half-Blood's new found resident cupid, Y/N herself had never been in love. She found love a beautiful, yet terrifying experience. Love is showing someone your most vulnerable side for an experience of comfort, an experience that isn't guaranteed to last. It's not like Eros stuck around with your mom. Others craved it, and Y/N serviced it, and she was fine with staying behind.

Before coming to camp when you were 15, you watched your mom never manage to move on. She had fallen in love, and she had fallen hard. Hard enough to have a baby with a man she'd known for such a short amount of time. He'd left and for years your mother was heartbroken. You had step-father after step-father, though they never lasted, they were just to fill the void. You grew up never understanding why people ever bothered with something that wouldn't last, but it never stopped them. You always thought if you couldn't help your mom, you could help others.

As Y/N strolled along the green of camp, she watched all the newer found couples be all lovey dovey with one another. 'You did this, and one day they'll get hurt.' She ignored her running mind and continued on with her day.

You walked down the beach in some denim shorts and a white bikini with mini pink hearts all over it, basking in the sunlight as it tanned your skin. The ocean looked beautiful as you watched Piper and Percy surf the large waves, though you thought Percy had something to do with the size of the waves.

"Hey guys," you waved to your friends as they walked out the ocean.

"You here to enjoy the waves, too," Percy asked.

"The ones you're probably creating," you crossed your arms and the two just chuckled. You were correct though, when Percy stepped out the waves calmed down.

"Hey, could this be the day you finally let me teach you how to surf," Piper wiggled her eyebrows at you, causing you to smile.

"You know what, fine. Sure it is," you said. Piper started cheering as she made Percy go find a board for you to use.

"So, any new matches today, Cupid," Piper asked as she used the nickname that's become quite popular around camp. It was all anyone called you.

"Nope, not today. Everyones happy as they are. For now at least."

"For now?"

"Yeah, you know how I think about it."

"When will you learn that love can last? You don't have to be so gloomy about it you know."

"Spoken like a true Aphrodite kid," Piper just rolled her eyes. "I'm not judging anyone, its just not for me."

"One day it will be, and I'll be here to laugh in your face," Piper declared. You just rolled your eyes as Percy made his way back with the boards in hand.

"I got you a pink one, matches the hearts," Percy said as he handed you the board and gestured to your bathing suit. "Let's go!"

You were not a surfer to say the least, but you held your own. It was probably because Percy made the waves nice and small for you. You told him he didn't have to 'dumb down' the ocean for you, big mistake. You were knocked off your board and washed up ashore looking like the seaweed that washed up next to you.

"I don't think I'm a surfer guys," you said to your friends as they laughed at your current state. With your hair a mess and sand all over you, you looked like you ran through a hurricane.

"Maybe not," Piper couldn't stop laughing. Percy helped you up as were spitting sand out your mouth.

"Hey man, couldn't you help me out? I thought we were gang," You asked, gods you loved talking like a little frat boy.

"I'm the one who washed you up and didn't let the waves drown you???"

"Do I look like I wasn't just drowning," you gestured to yourself from head to toe, causing the two to just laugh.

"You look amazing," Percy said. "Like a 5 year olds shitty sand castle."

"After it's been stomped on of course," Piper added. You shook her hair back into place, sorta, and jumped back into the ocean to wash off the excessive sand.

"Yo Y/N," Percy yelled.

"Yeah," you turned toward Percy, and before you realized it, a wave smacked you from the side and knocked you back into the ocean. The pair on the shore were now doubling over, holding their guts in laughter. When you stood back up you gasped, inhaling oxygen like you've never before. "YOU'RE NOT FUNNY."

"We're laughing," Percy shouted back. You ran back out the ocean before Percy could send another wave your way.

"I need a shower, there's sand in places sand should not be," you announced as you walked off, waving your friends off. Eros doesn't have any other kids, so there hasn't been a cabin built yet. You walked in the Aphrodite cabin and waved at some of the campers as you walked straight toward the bathroom. When you were washing the sand out, you could hear some of the girls gossiping outside. Gods, you always wondered which between the Hermes or Aphrodite kids were the bigger gossips.

"I don't get her at all," one girl said.

"Yeah, how can she be like, so good with everyone else, but hate the thought of one for herself," a second girl said. Then the door opened.

"Hey, whatcha guys talkings talking about," a boy said.

"Cupid and how she refuses to get in a relationship," the first girl said.

"Gods, she soo hot, what'd I do for a night with her," the guy groaned. You just rolled your eyes as he further proved your point on why you'd rather not get into a relationship.

"Yeah she doesn't even like, just have fun with guys. She's like totally closed off," like, like, like. You turned off the water and started to dry yourself off.

"Literally, like it's the 21st century," you were tired of listening to the three go on and on about you like they didn't just watch you go inside the bathroom. You wrapped your towel around yourself, as tight as possible, and opened the door.

"Hey guys, whats up," you smiled as you walked toward your bed and going through your chest of clothes. Watching them go silent may have made your day. You walked back to the bathroom door to change. Before you shut the door, you turned back and said "I heard everything, and I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy."

You sighed as you put your clothes back on and walked back out the cabin, ignoring the silenced trio inside. You saw Percy walking back from the beach. He looked tanner.

"Hey Percy," you waved.

"Hey Y/N, you washed the seaweed out your hair I see," he smiled.

"You mean after you tried drowning me? Yeah I did wash it out thank you."

"I thought it was a nice little accessory no?"

"No," you deadpanned. "Anyways guess what, while I was showering I got stuck listening to people gossip on me, can you believe?"

"What could they possibly be talking about?"

"How I choose to stay single, like gods forbid. One of the was all like," you used air quotes and pitched up your voice, "like its the 21st century, blah blah."

Percy chuckled at your interpretation, "Wow, you should be an actor."

"Thank you thank you," you bowed.

"But really, Y/N, you're always helping everyone else get into relationships. How come your so against it?" You felt like a weight was dropped on your shoulders, like a shadow fell over your face.

"Nothing, dinners starting we should probably head over," you started walking, a neutral expression painted your face. You saw Piper and sat next to her, not before putting on a smile.

"Hello my queen," you beamed as you leaned your head on her shoulder.

"Hey babe," she kissed the top of your head as you leaned back up. You guys always joked like this. You got your food and started eating. You never burned your offerings, who would you pray to? Your dad? Eros? You never liked him after how he left your mother, and you decided to never pray to him. He didn't deserve the offerings. Your cabin mates came back and you all finished your dinner, now heading back to your cabin. You staggered behind slightly as Percy started to catch up.

"Hey Y/N," he sounded a little out of breath as he was walking next to you. "Look, I'm sorry if I said something earlier. I didn't mean to like offend you or something."

"Look its fine, I think I was just hungry or something," you said, kind of hoping he'd drop it.

"If you say so, just wanted to make sure we're good," it was quiet for a second. "We're good right?"

You chuckled, "yes Percy, we're good."

"Okay good," Percy breathed out as you slightly smiled. You both reached the doors of the Aphrodite cabin. "well, goodnight then."

"Good night," You walked into your cabin and headed over to your bunk above Piper. Lots of the other campers were up talking to one another from their bunks, but the second your head hit the pillow, you were out. And just as quickly as you fell asleep, you were pulled into a dream.

'You were standing in your old bedroom with your stuffed bear in your hands. You'd just woken up and were now staring out the window watching the clouds pass.'

You remember this, you were just about 4 years old.

'As you were cloud gazing, you heard your stomach rumble and made your way down into the kitchen. It was nearing 10AM so you knew mom was up. Normally you'd smell the breakfast from your room, but not today. When you walked down you didn't smell any bacon or hear any sizzling of the stove. All you heard was crying.

"I.. I can't do this anymore..." You knew that voice, you knew it better than any other voice, it was your mothers. "I miss him so much, and what do I do with her? I can't.. I can't tell her."

Up until now, you'd never heard your mother cry, but here she was pouring her eyes out. Who did she miss so bad? And why was she so sad they weren't here?

"Mommy?"

Your mom jumped as she wiped her face and turned around, clearly not expecting you. "Hey there sweetie, how's it going?"

"Why are you so sad," you walked up to her and hugged her leg. She smiled half-heartedly as she picked you up. "Why are you crying mommy?"

"Oh nothing, I'm sorry you had to see that," you may have been 4, but you can tell she was pretty upset. And you asked the worst question ever.

"Mommy?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"How come.. all the others kids have dads but I don't," you asked as softly as you could. You saw the slight switch in your moms face, before she quickly smiled again.

"Your dad was special, more than you know. He was amazing, I hope one day when you get to meet him, you'd understand how important he is, and forgive him for leaving." That's what she always said, and the more she said it, the less you believed it.

You woke up, not moving from your spot in bed. You laid on your side continuing to stare at the wall as a single tear fell from your eye. You hated that dream, hated it more because it was a recurring one. From that day forward, you watched your mom fall for different men, and watch it end the same way it always did.

You heard a yawn from under you, "Good morning, Pipes."

"Morning, cupid" Piper groaned. You sat up and hopped off your bed and sat with Piper. "Wanna try again at surfing or are you still a wimp."

"Definitely still a wimp," you laughed. There was a knock at the door and a boy walked in.

"Yo," Conner Stroll called out. Piper sat up and you both turned into his direction. Conner's eyes widen as he smiled and walked over. "There ya are cupid, I been looking for you."

"I told you I'm not helping you steal from the camp store again."

"No no not that," Conner clarified, "Though I do believe you should rethink that."

You glared at him before he continued, "Anyways, Chiron wanted to ask me to pick up some demigod that was found in Florida, but my license got um, suspended."

"What's this have to do with me?"

"Please cover for me, I get it unsuspended in three days I'm begging you," Conner got on one knee and pressed his hands together, pleading with you. You and Piper locked eyes and laughed. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'll do it. Always wanted to go to Florida anyways."

You got up and got dressed in some normal clothes, opposed from your camp Half-Blood shirt. You put on a another pair of denim shorts, a baggy shirt, and some converse, before heading out to the big-house for the car keys.

"Chiroonnnnn," you sang out as you walked into the house.

"Ah cupid, there you are, I assumed you are here for the keys," you nodded as he fished into his pocket and handing you the keys. You found it funny how even the staff called you cupid, it was like an endearing nickname you supposed. "Can't believe Conner got his license suspended."

You laughed as you headed out the door, "Hold on!"

You paused and turned as Chiron called out, "Whats up?"

"I would appreciate it if you brought a friend with you, maybe Percy," Chiron suggested, you nodded and this time made it fully out the door. It's almost like he was summoned by speaking his name, because there he was.

"PERCYY," you shouted as you ran your way over. He turned over with a concerned look on his face. "Hey there."

"Y/N," he deadpanned, "Is there a reason that your screaming like someones chasing you?"

"How would you feel about leaving camp and picking up a nice ol' demigod with me?" You smiled. "Pretty please."

"You don't gotta twist my arm about it, I'll go change," you smiled as he walked off.

"Wow, you asked Percy but not me? I feel offended," you jumped and saw Piper standing behind you.

"Don't feel offended, Chiron suggested it you know."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Have fun being stuck in a cramped car with Percy," you had to take a double take.

"Whats that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing-"

"If you say that one more time-"

"I'm back," Percy reappeared now changed into some jorts (I think jorts are underrated) and a baggy shirt. "Ready?"

"Ready," you said. You and Percy went and walked off, as you quickly turned back to glare at Piper. You and Percy kept walking till you finally made it to one of the black SUVs reserved for transporting demigods. Percy walked toward the drivers seat before you stopped him.

"You don't have a license?"

"I'm showing some good manners?" Percy said as he opened the doors and allowed you to step in. You thanked him as he got into the passenger seat. You guys were 2 hours into the drive when you both drove into the drive through of a McDonalds. As you continued driving you guys ate and listened to music. And though Percy wouldn't admit this, he loved Lana Del Rey.

They judge me like a picture book By the colors, like they forgot to read

The soul read was crazy! After about 11 hours, the both of your eyelids were falling heavy, knowing it was time to get some sleep. You parked off into an empty parking lot and rolled back the seats, falling asleep. Or trying to.

"Are you asleep," Percy called out.

"Yeah," you heard rustling in the seat next to you. You turned your head and saw him looking at you. "Why're you staring at me?"

"I'm not?"

"Whatever you say," you smiled. "Percy?"

"Y/N."

"How come you don't call me cupid like everyone else?"

"You have your own name, so why stick you with your dads name," Percy turned on his back. "You don't even like him, do you?"

You were quiet for a second. You never really opened up about him. Sure Piper knew that you never liked relationships, but that's about it. "No, I don't."

You were quiet a few seconds. You didn't think about continuing, but the words spilled out. "When he left my mom, she was never the same. She tried hiding it but the older I got... I don't even know. All I know is she couldn't love the same."

You stopped speaking and turned back to Percy who was listening to you intently, you felt encouraged to continue. "What really sucked was, all she did was talk about him with love."

It was silent again before Percy spoke up, "is that why you closed off being in love?"

You waited a second before nodding,

"Through this sting was Amor made wiser. The untiring deceiver concocted another battle-plan: he lurked beneath the carnations and roses and when a maiden came to pick them, he flew out as a bee and stung her,"

you paused, "at the end of the day, love just hurts people."

"We both know you know that's not the case," Percy said lowly. "Think of all the people you've set up, if you really believe that, then why help them?"

"Just because I'll never understand why people want love, doesn't mean I can stop it, can I?"

"No, guess not. Still, why do you really help them," Percy asked again, turning back to you. You thought about it again.

"Sometimes I wish I was just as naive as everyone else," you admitted. "I wish I saw love as beautiful as everyone else did, not as a bee waiting in the flowers ready to sting me when I got close. Or.. vulnerable."

"You seem pretty vulnerable right now, and last I checked, I don't see any bees around to sting you," you looked over at Percy who was smiling. His contagious smiling spreading to you.

"We have a long drive tomorrow, we should sleep," you said.

"Yeah. You're right."

"I normally am."

You both drifted off to sleep, and thankfully, there was no recurring dream. Just a peaceful sleep. You two woke with the sun as it blasted into your faces. After saying your good mornings, you drove off. Getting some breakfast first, of course.

Percy looked at you with his eyebrow raised, "I don't think a Baja blast is good for you at 8 in the morning."

"Shut the fuck up."

You were not a morning person, if it wasn't clear. You guys kept driving and driving before finally making it to the young demigod's house by 6PM. You and Percy stretched your legs before walking up and knocking on the door. An older man, who you assumed to be the demigods father, opened the door.

"Are you the ones from the camp," the man asked.

"Yeah, I'm Y/N, and that's Percy," Percy waved.

"Hello my names Richard," he introduced himself before calling down his daughter. "This is my daughter, Delilah."

Delilah waved at the two at the door, she didn't look older than 7. She had blonde hair like her father and flowers in her hair and mud on her hands, like she'd been out in the back yard.

"She loves the the garden out back, can never get her away from it," Richard said.

"Well good thing we have a lot of gardens at camp," you said. You watched as Richard picked up his daughter and hugged her.

"I'll see you at the end of summer okay? I love ya pumpkin," he kissed her forehead before putting her down. The scene tugged at your heart strings, the little girl on the inside was shaking right now.

"Hey Delilah, ready to go on a little roadtrip," Percy asked after kneeling down to her level. She nodded her head quickly while smiling. "Well cmon, no time to waste!"

He picked her up while jumping and skipping on the way to the car. You said your goodbyes to the girls father and headed back to the car. You watched as Percy effortlessly made the young girl laugh and smile, it gave you a warm feeling inside. It's a feeling you wish you had when you were younger. You envied Percy's future kids, he was just so good with people. Of all ages.

"Let's hit the road," you said while hitting the gas. You and Percy hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, determined to make it to Delilah at a reasonable hour, so now the two of you were starving. "Delilah, you want some pizza?"

"Yes! Yes!" That's all you needed, you pulled into the first pizza place you saw, a 'Groovys Pizza & Grill.' You guys all split a supreme pizza with pepperoni, sausage, ham, bacon, green pepper, onion, black olives. Turns out little Delilah was a bigger eater than she looked. After about an hour you all finished eating and packed back up into the SUV.

It was now 11PM, you and Percy were determined to push through to at least 1AM this time. Not Delilah though, she was asleep in the back.

"You were so good with her you know," you said.

"Hmm?"

"With Delilah, its like it came natural or something."

"Maybe. That's just how me and my mom always were. We always had our fun, never made me feel different you know," you smiled. Percy always talked so highly of his mother. Never with an ounce of resentment towards her. It was beautiful. "You know, I watched my mom go through a pretty bad relationship too."

You turned for a second to see Percy completely serious about what he's going to say, "She was with this guy, I always called him smelly Gabe. He treated us like shit, but she stayed with him because he protected me. Not like it was on purpose, his smell was just so ass it covered mine. I thought after getting with a god, she'd never have the normally life she wanted. Then she met her new husband Paul, and I'd never seen her happier. I even have a new sibling now, Estelle."

You smiled, "That's amazing, I'm glad it worked out for her. With the way you talk so highly of her, she deserves it."

"Yeah, but I didn't just say that to gloat."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, sometimes a relationship goes sour. Sometimes that's how life is, giving up doesn't solve anything," Percy said as he yawned.

You drove in silence after that. He was right, but that doesn't make you less scared. You looked at Percy who was trying to get some shut eye, then at Delilah through the mirror up front. You always wanted to blame Eros for how he left your mom, well you did, but what good is that doing you? Missing out on a giant piece of life for the sake of resenting your father. Hades, after all this time, did you even know what it is to love someone? It was nearing 1AM, so you found another empty parking lot to fall asleep in before making it back to camp in the morning. Hopefully.

The next day, you three arrived at camp by 7PM. You might've broken some speed laws but you didn't care, you were tired of that car. You stretched out before walking Delilah to the main house where Chiron would talk and show her around. Now it was just you and Percy, walking your way to the dining pavilion where everyone was eating dinner.

"I hope you consider what I told you, you know," Percy said.

"What?"

"About getting over your fear. I knows there's someone out there ready to love you, trust me," you looked to Percy, watching him continue looking forward as he walked.

"I'll think on it," you almost whispered before looking back forward, nearly at your respective tables. You walked behind Piper, tapping her shoulder. When she saw you she put you in a bear hug.

"Pipes, I missed you too, but my ribs," you croaked. She let you go and let slip into the seat next to her.

"So, how'd it go?"

"Gods the drive was treacherous," you dragged. "But it was pretty fun."

"Fun?"

"Have some decorum please," you held up your hand. She smiled and so did you.

"But seriously, stop keeping the gossip to yourself," Piper complained.

"There's no gossip," you smiled. You remember watching how Percy acted towards a kid he's never met, and again, you felt the mix of the little girl in you and the you now sitting on this bench feel happy about it.

"Yeah sureee," Piper looked at you up and down before coming close to your ear, "because looks like cupid shot herself with her own arrow."

You just rolled your eyes, "did not."

"Whatever you say."

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you

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florwons · 9 months

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‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt — nishimura riki ‧ ˚₊‧

synopsis you hated niki. he hated you. despite your ongoing rivalry, your recent arm injury seems to have had an unexpected effect on your so-called enemy. rather than making fun of your injury, he's shown a surprising twist of kindness by wanting to draw on your cast instead.

pairing rival!niki x fem!reader genre fluff, e2ls, hs au !

warnings profanity, injury, just niki and reader being a bickering mess !! typical rival things

featuring danielle newjeans jungwon enhypen wc 2303 !

note first enha work !! first time on blr and i think i’m getting a hang of it.. took too much time figuring out everything though 😵‍💫. i guess this happens when you’re bored (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) anyhow, i just think niki fits e2ls !! also i think he fits this cute idea i was thinking about so why not combine the two ?? might also create a part 2 to this !!

— wanna read part 2 ? coming soon!

"Wow, two whole months for it to heal? I’m sure it hurt, didn’t it?" Danielle exclaimed, her expression filled with shock as she glanced from your cast to your face. The two of you were seated next to each other during your first period, giving her a chance to closely examine your injury.

"Yeah," you replied with a touch of sarcasm, a sigh escaping your lips as you gazed at the plain, white cast encasing your arm. "Just the sort of thing that can happen when you take up a part-time job at a convenience store. But, my doctor assured me it's not too serious, so this arm should be back to its usual self soon!" You lightly tapped your arm with your free hand, showing her that you’re completely fine.

"Well, it's still frustrating to have to let it heal for that long," she pouted, receiving a light chuckle from you. Extending your uninjured arm, you gently held her hand, offering her a soft smile. "Don't worry, Danielle. Two months will fly by."

You were truly grateful for a friend like Danielle, who consistently showed concern for your well-being. It made you wonder why your life couldn't be filled with people like her instead of people like him. But no, the universe had different plans and had given you Niki, your classmate, or rather your enemy.

This rivalry with Niki had its roots all the way back to elementary school, and due to both of your stubbornness, it had been brought into your high school years. Poor Danielle found herself caught in this mess, being friends with both of you. You did feel bad for involving her, but the blame fell largely on Niki, who seemed to exist solely to get under your skin.

"Does... you-know-who... know about your injury? You guys walk to and from here together," Danielle hesitated, bringing up him in the conversation cautiously. You shook your head and replied, "No, not as far as I know. I actually left a bit early today—oh no."

Your hand instinctively moved to your forehead, the beginnings of a headache forming from the thought. Danielle let out a small gasp, concern evident in her expression. "What's wrong, YN? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine—wait, no, I'm not!"

"Why? What's the matter?"

"It's Niki! I just remembered that he's probably going to make fun of my injury for the entire two months." You slumped in your chair, already envisioning the scenarios in your mind. "That asshole."

“You actually got me worried!”

"Sorry, but this is something you should be worried about! Niki's constant teasing might be the end of me!"

"YN, you'll handle it. You both argue every day, anyway," Danielle said with a dismissive tone, not fully grasping how serious the issue felt to you. After all, Niki having another reason to mock you during class was far from trivial.

You sighed, realizing that you really wished for your arm to heal as quickly as possible.

In what seemed like no time at all, the second period arrived—a bit faster than usual. You hurried into the classroom, aiming to get into your seat promptly. But there was no use of that if he’s your seatmate! Just why couldn’t it be Danielle? You silently cursed your teacher for arranging the seating this way. More people started filling the classroom, and Niki’s unmistakable blonde hair caught your attention — he was walking your way.

His gaze fixed strangely on your arm as you withdrew it from the desk, letting it hang at your side. You deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, unwilling to deal with his presence at the moment. The scrape of his chair against the floor caught your ear, prompting you to take a deep breath. "Already pissed?" His voice carried a teasing tone, and you could practically feel the smirk in his words, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Aw, you got my routine down already?” You scoffed, placing your notebook on your desk. You were determined to shut out his annoying voice, but of course, life had other plans. "Seems like it. Just call it the Niki effect, I guess."

"Yeah, a real heartwarming effect," you replied monotonously, your attention shifting to the front of the classroom. In the corner of your eye, you could see him take out a notebook as well. You silently hoped he'd simply focus on his work and not pay attention to you, though it seemed he had different intentions.

“What’s up with your arm?” he points at your injured arm with his pencil. Now that made you wish you could snap that pencil in half. Nonetheless, you managed to maintain your composure, or at least tried to, as you responded calmly. "Oh, you know, just your typical arm-breaking experience. Nothing major—just a cozy two-month wait for it to return to normal."

"I didn't need a breakdown of your recovery process, but I suppose thank you for letting me know,” Niki remarked, adjusting his seat position. "Wouldn't expect any less from someone like you."

Holding onto your pencil, the pressure of it snapped its lead, and you clenched your teeth in frustration. "Do you ever know when to just keep your mouth shut?" you retorted, your tone edged with irritation.

"It's one of my finer qualities—maybe you should catch up," he shot back, a hint of amusement evident in his voice.

"Sure thing. Just do me a favor and stay quiet for two months, will you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what's in it for me?"

"Me sparing you from my rude remarks—just not like what you're doing right now."

“Can’t make any promises,” He dragged the last word, making you sigh. He smiled slightly, knowing he knew exactly how to piss you off.

The bell rang, and relief washed over you like a wave. Hastily gathering your belongings, you were so focused on getting out of the classroom that you failed to notice Niki's gaze on you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you headed toward Danielle. Unknown to you, Niki's attention lingered, a subconscious concern for your well-being flickering in his mind.

"Niki? Niki!" Jungwon tapped him on the shoulder, causing Niki to start slightly. Wait, what was he doing just now? Before he could analyze his actions, Jungwon pulled him from his thoughts. "You seemed out of it for a bit. Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I spaced out for a second. Let's not miss our third period, alright?" Niki hurriedly packed his things, walking alongside Jungwon, his earlier behavior still puzzling him.

Niki's earlier slip-up had him lost in thought, and it continued especially during P.E. class. His eyes were drawn to you, sitting on the bleachers with a bored expression, casually observing the movement of the others. Then, unexpectedly, you excused yourself and headed toward the nurse's office. Niki found himself continuing to watch you, his focus on you more than anything else around.

"Hey, Niki!" A familiar voice brought his attention away from you, just in time to see a ball hurtling his way. He attempted to react, but the ball had already hit his arm. Wincing, he gripped his arm, a small crowd forming around him. Mr. Kim scolded him, and Niki nodded in acknowledgment—it was his fault for not paying attention.

“Take this pass and go get an ice pack,” Mr. Kim said, already finishing up the pass for him. At first, he contemplated declining, but then he remembered that you were in the nurse's office.

This was the fastest he ever grabbed a pass. His movements were swift as he exited the gym and quickly navigated the route to the nurse's office, hoping he could arrive before you left.

He knocked on the door, and a soft voice invited him in. Stepping inside, he found you seated in one of the chairs. Your surprise was evident as you looked at him, his hand resting on his left arm—the same one you had injured. He observed as he grabbed an ice pack before making his way over to where you were sitting.

In the row of chairs, he left a space between you, taking a seat. Your voice broke the silence, teasingly suggesting, "Starting to think you're obsessed with me." Niki couldn't help but scoff lightly as he settled in.

While you weren't exactly off the mark with your comment, admitting such a thing to you was out of the question. He waved off your words with a dismissive tone, "Me? Obsessed with you? Sure, as if."

A quiet pause settled between you both, and subtle glances were exchanged. Breaking the silence, you remarked, "Seems like you're about to join me, huh?"

He looked at you with confusion etched on his face, only to glance down at his arm and yours—both injured in the same spot. Niki couldn't help but chuckle softly, acknowledging that you were right. "Well, not quite as bad as your situation."

"Shut up." Niki's laughter filled the air, and for the first time, you found his laugh endearing—a thought you quickly brushed off. You simply smiled at his boxy grin. Has his smile always been this charming?

Niki realized he had let his guard down, his throat clearing as he subtly corrected himself. He needed to maintain the distance he had always kept between you two—at least for now.

"What are you doing here?" you started to answer, but he interrupted himself, realizing his mistake. "I shouldn't have asked, I mean, look at your arm."

There was the Niki you still had so much hate for. "If I had both arms, I'd strangle you right here."

"But you can't."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder, idiot—as if I wasn't already aware," you retorted, rising from your seat. He wouldn't be entirely honest if he didn't admit part of him wanted you to leave. It was strange, but he always felt a certain oddness when you weren't nearby. "Can't wait for you to make jokes about my injured arm at every given opportunity."

Your words sparked an idea in him, and as you turned to leave, he was already formulating a plan — his way of getting closer to you than before.

That's exactly what he did. Every chance he got to be near you, he seized it. His motives remained a mystery – was his plan to push you further away? If so, it was definitely working, as he managed to piss you off with every passing moment. Niki couldn't forget the way you clenched your teeth and let out exasperated sighs whenever he was around. He acknowledged he was being a nuisance, but was there really any other choice?

Could he just flip a switch and suddenly be friendly? That would be too suspicious, wouldn't it? Still, there was an inner push for him to say something decent for once.

And now, here he was, sitting beside you, gazing at your plain cast. Two weeks had already gone by – why hadn't anyone doodled on it yet? He hesitated before gently tapping your arm, causing you to look at him, your expression vacant. You were ready for him to bring up your arm again, almost as if you expected him to repeat his hurtful comments again.

“What? I swear if you make fun of my arm–”

"Can I draw on your cast?" He uttered the words, seemingly without a second thought, catching you completely off guard. Why this sudden change? Could he possibly be planning to write something embarrassing? Then again, your cast did look rather dull, almost too depressing to glance at. But, you still had your doubts.

“What? What if you draw something weird–”

“Come on, I’m not that terrible of a person.”

“Literally who do you think you are–”

“I’m your classmate, loser. Think I can’t be nice for once?” His words left you stunned, and you watched him retrieve a sharpie from his bag. He uncapped it, motioning for your arm to move closer to him. However, you found yourself hesitating, which prompted him to raise an eyebrow ever so slightly. "May I?" he asked.

You didn’t know what went through his head, and yours too! Before you knew it, you were extending your arm to him, watching as he concentrated on writing and drawing on your cast. He held it gently, clearly being cautious not to cause you any discomfort. You were undeniably intrigued by his actions, even though his presence was obstructing your view – not that you cared anyways.

Soon, he finished, closing the lid to his marker. The bell rang, almost as if on cue, causing him to hurry out of the classroom. It was as if the roles swapped, he was now the one rushing out quickly. His abrupt exit left you wondering – why was he so nervous? He didn’t know either, maybe he was suddenly being nice with his rival.

As you finally glanced at your cast, your eyes fell on the words he had written: "Hope you heal quickly, loser." Right beside the message was a small drawing of Shin-chan sticking his tongue out. This time you found yourself breaking into a smile, rather than being irritated.

"So you're telling me I could have been writing about your cast this whole time?" Danielle exclaims, her eyes fixed on the doodles now on your cast. She stops, examining the drawings more closely. "Hold on, isn't that Niki's handwriting?" Without giving you a chance to explain, Danielle is already teasing you mercilessly.

You knew you couldn’t argue back with her. After all, how could you explain the decision to let your rival draw on your cast? You gazed at the doodles once more, finding yourself involuntarily breaking into a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, you'd allow him to draw on your cast again.

Yeah, you were totally out of it.

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tieronecrush · 11 months

Text

102

frankie morales x f!reader

based on the song 102 by the 1975

rating: M

word count: 3k

summary: every week, you and frankie meet up at the same spot at the same time to catch-up and share a coffee. you’ve been his best friend for years. through thick and thin, always there. thing is, frankie’s been in love with you for nearly as long as he’s known you and hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you.

warnings: no use of Y/N, post-film timeline, au where frankie doesn’t have a kid, use of pet names (solecita, mi mejor), high school level spanish (mostly swear words), unrequited love, self deprecation, alcohol use/drunkenness, smoking

Bright, tepid morning light bounces yellow-white light off of the water in front of Frankie, the pond’s smooth glass-like surface reflecting the partly cloudy sky. The sunlight covers him like a heated blanket, the black sweatshirt on his torso soaking up the warmth. The chilled breeze ruffles the curls peeking out from under his hat, brushing them against his forehead. His knees are bent, elbow resting while he holds the paper to-go cup in both hands between his thighs, the coffee inside swishing with his subtle movements to settle on the large boulder next to the small man-made lake.

The trail that winds around the water and throughout the park is quiet, only a few passersby giving him a polite wave or a tight smile as they jog or walk past during their workout. He watches each one approach, looking for the familiar face of you that he’s been waiting for at this spot, for this time and day of the week every week since he’s come home from his last deployment with Special Forces. It was your idea, forcing him to check in at least weekly in person to make sure he was doing alright adjusting back home. You both knew that he couldn’t say no to you. You thought it was because you were best friends since the start of high school, your long history creating an unbreakable bond. The real reason, that only he and the boys knew after they coerced the confession out of him on a mission, was because he was in love with you. Has been for years.

This week feels different though. Part of him isn’t sure that you’ll show up after what happened the night before last. Anxiety swirls in his gut and his fingers twitch for some nicotine, his hands patting his pockets to pull out the crumpled packet of cigarettes and Bic lighter. The colored end rests between his lips while he clicks the lighter until the flame appears, holding it to the small roll of tobacco and inhaling around it to catch the dried leaves alight. He puffs out a few drags, billowy, thin smoke surrounding him as his muscles relax and his mind calls back to the night he last saw you.

He told the cab driver your address.

Of course, he didn’t realize he’d rambled it off until the guy kicked him out at the curb, turning around to get his bearings, and seeing the small three-bed townhome you shared with your roommates. The screen of his phone showed him the time, a slurred curse slipping from his lips when it registers how late it was.

1:02 AM

You would definitely be asleep by now. You had been texting him all night recapping stupid things your roommates’ friends said during a girls’ movie night at your place, making him smile at his phone often while out with the boys at the bar. Your messages slowed down and then stopped altogether around 11:30 pm, cluing him in that you’d fallen asleep. Their incessant teasing and the ache of his unrequited love drove him to drink a little too much, and he must have been so drunk that his subconscious took him to you.

He should go home. Back to his empty house, where he’d pass out alone and cold.

He always felt warm around you.

And his phone is about to die, which meant there was no chance he could call a cab or order an Uber.

Guilt crawled in between his ribs with each step he took down your front path, sighing softly to himself and lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair before he knocked on your door.

There’s no answer, so he succumbs to finding your contact through his messages, pressing the call button and holding the phone up to his ear. It rings three time before he hears a rustle on the other end, your sleepy voice coming over the line.

“Hello?”

“Hey, solecita.”

“Frankie? What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Uh, not really? Well, kinda. ‘M a lil’ tipsy, actually more than tipsy, and accidentally told the cab driver your address instead of mine so I’m outside your house right now. And my phone’s abouta die.”

You take a slow inhale before exhaling a short chuckle.

“Hold on.”

You don’t hang up the phone and he listens to the sounds of you climbing out of bed and your footsteps echoing in the wood-floored hallway. The front door swings open in front of him, your drowsy grin calming his anxiety immediately. Butterflies kick around in his stomach and a grin pulls the corners of his mouth up when he sees you in your matching pajama set, white cotton with dainty pink flowers. You hang up the phone in front of him, and he drops his own hand to his side again while giving you a cringed expression.

“‘M so sorry, solecita. Woulda called another Uber if I could.”

“‘S fine, Francisco. C’mon, just stay here for the night.”

You wave him in, quietly shutting the door and locking it again, turning back to him and nodding up the stairs. He follows your silent order, climbing the stairs ahead of you and stumbling only a few times from his slightly impaired depth perception. Your soft hands find his shoulders at the top of the stairs, guiding him to your room. The door closes behind you and he turns to face you, a small hiccup escaping his mouth.

“I can sleep on the couch, mi mejor. Don’t wanna take up your bed.”

“Frankie, you’re like six feet tall. You’re not gonna be comfortable on that tiny ass couch. Just get in the bed, I’ll be right back.”

From across the small room, he watches you slip out of the doorway, shutting it behind you. He takes the chance to slip out of his jeans, discarding his Standard Oil hat on your dresser. He knows what side to lay on from the countless times he’s stayed the night after getting wine drunk with you or when you’d stayed at his after it’d gotten too late to drive home, insisting you use the same side you do at home. He plugs his phone into the extra charger you have, laying back against the headboard as he covers his face with his hands and drags them down.

“God, fucking idiot, Frankie,” he mumbles to himself, knowing you’ll probably sweetly retell this story at the next dinner with the guys and dreading the shit he is going to get from them. They all rag on him like brothers around you, and you laugh along when Frankie does, encouraging him to let it roll off his back when he gets annoyed. All he hopes is that you don’t think he’s as bad as what you’ve been told in the last few years. The pain of his heartache around you would only be compounded if you thought any less of him ‘cause of the stupid shit he’d done. Including showing up at your house drunk at one o’clock in the morning.

The door clicking close again pulls his hands from his face, an exhausted sigh expanding and compressing his chest. You cross over to the bed with your “backup emotional support water bottle” (your words, not his) in your hand, passing it over to him.

“Drink half now. Other half in the morning. And here’s ibuprofen for the morning, too.”

You drop the few pills in his hand and he twists to set them on the nightstand, unscrewing the lid of the bottle to chug half the contents. He closes it again, setting it down to the side next to the pills. The mattress sinks when you climb in on your side, returning your own phone to it’s charger and laying down on your side facing him. He mirrors your actions, laying down to look at you tenderly.

“Thank you.”

“Always, Frankie.”

You’ve never not been there for him. You’ve left work earlier to find him at home in the middle of a panic attack when Pope’s called you, picked him up from bars and random house parties. Even been his friend when he’d been using.

You’ve never not been there, and that is exactly why he can’t bring himself to tell you that he’s in love with you. He can’t imagine his life without you.

“Can we cuddle?” He sounds like a little kid, feeling his face fall into an involuntary pout.

A faint laugh hits his ears in the dark room, no direct answer comes from you. Instead, you scoot closer to him on the mattress, hands grabbing either side of his shoulders and shifting him to face the wall with your windows. An arm slides under his neck, the other pushing between his bicep and his ribcage to wrap him up as the little spoon. He relaxes against you, breathing in your scent from your arm under his head.

No other words are exchanged, your breathing evening out against his back when you’ve fallen back asleep and then he finally closes his eyes to rest.

He dreams of you. Not sure what exactly, but the warm fuzzy feeling he’s got told him you were around.

The next morning, early sunlight filters through the sheer curtains covering the windows. Frankie’s eyes slowly open from the brightness, a pounding headache immediately throbbing in his skull and radiating pain all over his body. The two of you have moved throughout the night, your head on his chest and his arm under you. The sight of you peaceful, relaxed, angelic tears at his heart, the pain doubling at the thought of facing you this morning.

He slips out of your bed, cowardly slinking out of the house and avoiding any possible situation that he would have to tell you how he feels about you. Outside of your house, he waits at the curb after he calls Santi to come to get him, shooting a message to you that he left to head home and sleep off the hangover for the rest of the day, but he would see you tomorrow morning for coffee like always.

When he’s about to give up and head back to his car with his tail between his legs, he spots you speed-walking up the path and waving wildly to him. He smiles to himself, taking one last puff of his cigarette before putting it out on the rock next to him.

He stands, stepping to the edge to offer you a hand to help you up, steadying you as you catch your balance. Wordlessly, the two of you sit next to each other, the small bag of duck food that you always bring set down between your sides.

“Morning, Francisco. How’re ya feeling today? Better than yesterday?”

Teasing is evident in your voice, a sly smirk on your lips. He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, hitting his shoulder against yours.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am, solecita. So no need for the smugness. Took care of you way more drunk and hungover than I was so you got no room to talk.”

“Hey! I was asking out of the kindness of my heart. Someone’s sassy this morning. What’s got your undies in a twist?”

He laughs softly, looking out at the water in front of him and shaking his head as he shrugs.

“Nothin’ much, I guess. Reason I got drunk on Friday was ‘cause I had another shitty day at work. I really don’t wanna work at the airport anymore.”

Your head nods in understanding, swallowing your sip of coffee.

“Well, what would you wanna do instead?”

He peels at the seam of the cardboard sleeve on his cup, eyes not daring to look over at you as he quietly admits what has been toying over in his mind for the last few months, not spoken out loud to anyone.

“I wanna do private charters again. Be up in the air, flying,” a tired sigh escapes his lips, head dropping in shame as he turns it to look at you, “But can’t do that with a suspended license.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But the key word there is ‘suspended’, Frankie. Didn’t they send you instructions to schedule a hearing to start the reinstatement process? Have you done anything for that?”

All he can do is shake his head, turning back to the trail and the pond to people watch.

“We can take a look at it all together if you want. Maybe my brother can offer some legal advice,” his skin burns from your hand resting on his back, even through his sweatshirt and t-shirt over it, “We’ll get it figured out. You’ll be up in the air in no time.”

His heart sings at your use of “we”, his mind clearing his anxious haze and giving him the nerve to spill his guts to you at that moment.

When he turns to face you, he’s met with your wide, optimistic grin and it only swells his heart against his ribs even more, feeling as if the vital organ is going to explode out of his chest unless he says something.

Frankie opens his mouth, inhaling a sharp breath as he formulates the words to start with; as he’s about to speak, your smile grows brighter, eyes lighting up.

“Oh! I didn’t get to tell you last night cause we fell asleep so quick, but, um, I started seeing this new guy. We’ve been on a few dates, but it’s gone really well so far and I really like him…”

Frankie half listens as you continue to recount each date, a dull buzzing noise covering the sound of your voice in his ears as his stare unfocuses in front of him. The courage dies in his throat, feeling as if the lump there is blocking his airway and slowly suffocating him. He’s quiet for the rest of the catch-up, and if you noticed, you never said anything. The two of you part ways at your cars, you heading home to get ready for another date with this guy and him heading home to have a date with the twelve-pack of beers sitting in his fridge.

The next week, Frankie only leaves his house to show up for his shifts at work. When he skips out on guys’ night on Friday, Santi stops at his on his way home from the bar, pounding on the door until Frankie answers.

“You look like shit.”

Pope barges in and gives Frankie a once-over, shaking his head and flopping down on his couch, picking up one of the cans of beer on the coffee table and popping the tab. Frankie sighs, closing the front door and sitting at the opposite end.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t show up tonight, haven’t returned any texts or calls all week. Needed to make sure you were alive, cretino.”

“Well, I’m alive. Now you can leave me alone.”

Santi shakes his head, clearing his throat and giving Frankie a sympathetic look.

“Did something happen on Sunday morning? Did you do something stupid and she’s not talking to you?”

Frankie stews silently, glaring at Pope before breaking in the silence.

“She’s got a guy she’s seeing. Been on a few dates with him.”

“Ahh. Makes sense why you’re been moping then.”

“She couldn’t stop gushing over this new pendejo. And the worst part is she told me right as I was about to tell her how I felt.”

“Why can’t you still tell her?”

Frankie looks at Santiago like he’s got two heads, scoffing at the ridiculous thought.

“Cause she’s happy?”

“You said they’ve only been on a few dates. Not like she’s married, or even engaged,” Santi says with a casual shrug, “You’ve been in love with her for years, estúpido. I think that trumps a few dates. She deserves to know. And you deserve to know if she feels any ounce of the same way.”

The two men sit with each other, watching the movie Frankie had on while he mulls over Pope’s words. After Santiago leaves, Frankie shuffles into his room and finds the shirt he wore last week at your house, picking it up and switching it out with the one he was wearing. As he pulls it over his head, all he can smell is you. He holds the collar up to his face a takes a deep breath, battling with his thoughts into the early hours of the morning before he finally decides to call you and confess everything.

1:02 AM

You pick up on the second ring, the same sleepy voice you had last Saturday morning muffling over the phone.

“Frankie? Are you outside my house again?”

He laughs softly, biting his lip before he responds.

“No, no. ‘M sorry to wake you, solecita. Just wanted to talk to you. Been thinkin’ a lot tonight.”

“About what?”

“I dunno. Life, I guess.”

“Tell me about it.”

He stalls, chatting with you and rambling about the proceeding forms he’d dug out from his desk for how to move forward reinstating his license. You listen intently, offering supportive comments, asking questions, and giving him advice. The conversation falls into a lull, and like last week, as Frankie works up the courage to say what he really called about, you speak first.

“Can I tell you what happened on my date tonight? It was really nice.”

The pain in his chest brings his hand up to press against it, a burning lump growing in his throat.

Frankie clears his throat and responds with a quiet ‘yeah’. You tell him everything, and all he can think about is how this has to be some sign from the universe or God or whatever’s out there that it’s not meant to be between the two of you.

You start to yawn repeatedly, and he lets you off the hook with a tender goodnight, thumb smashing the red ‘end’ button and burying his head in his hands while he sits at the edge of his bed.

After a few moments of silent tears, he picks up his phone, sending one last message before he goes to sleep.

TO: Cabrón

It’s never gonna happen.

tagging some mooties: @beskarandblasters @swiftispunk @joelsversion @lunapascal @addictedtotlou @death-wife @johnwatsn @pedgeitopascal @pedrospartner @atinylittlepain @soaringcloud @wannab-urs @javiscigarette @yazsos @northernwindd @pr0ximamidnight @theelishad @scrambledslut @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @midnightswithdearkatytspb @ladamedusoif

#writing #frankie #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic

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fariesoiree · 4 days

Note

Heyy babes it's me againn

I was wondering if you'd consider writing a smutty drabble about hobie with a reader who has a praise kink? 👀

Much love from yours truly, ☄️

welcome back! always love the interactions c: of cawrse you can! idk how long this is but i think it qualifies as a fic soooo . . . hate the ending but it was getting tooooo long c: ageless and minors dni i will block you, black fem reader, she/her prns

hobie first notices the way you sort of . . . cower when he compliments you a few weeks ago. maybe cowers isn’t the best word — more like shy away. sure, you’ll always smile and accept it all with grace but there’s always something about it. if he looks at you hard enough, your brown eyes looks a little different than usual. it brings about a curiosity in him that he’s never had before.

it’s a question that dwells in the back of his mind and only resurfaces now, when you’re both created comfortable indents on hobie’s gray couch, one that he’s gotten secondhand and restored himself. he holds a wine glass in his hand, filled with cheap, store bought wine. he doesn’t care too much for the taste or expensive experience and you feel fortunate that you are able to pick out the bottle this week.

on the tv, just large enough to cover the stand, plays another episode of too hot to handle. each time another bad episode of trashy reality television comes to an end and netflix auto plays another — your account because hobie would never — you just let it continue playing, transfixed on the forced drama.

“you think you could last on a show like that?” hobie asks, taking a sip from the round glass. the wine is more sweet than bitter and leaves a subtle alcoholic aftertaste on his tongue. he would prefer something a little stronger but the point is not to get drunk. instead it’s to enjoy each other’s presence. “like, on an island with a bunch of hot guys that you can’t fuck but you want to, so bad.”

you glance at him from the corner of your eye expecting to meet his gaze, only to find the side of his face. even from this direction, the angles of his jaw is still just as sharp and reflects his true beauty in a way that used to intimidate you in the earlier days of your relationships. “well, can i fuck the girls?”

hobie’s tongue clicks against the ridged roof of his mouth with a hushed tut! he rolls his eyes but the corners of his lips twitch upwards. you’re such a smartass. “obviously not. don’t act daft.” in between his words, he pauses to scowl at the private interviews from the contestants.

“then no. plus, i only want you. if i ended up on that show after meeting you, i’d just be bored, i think. what would i even do?”

a chuckle rumbles in his chest, spreading in thick warmth that crawls its way out his throat. his head lulls in your direction and the hand, attached to the hand wrapped around your shoulder, rubs across your bare skin, left uncovered under the white shortsleeved loose, cherry patterned top. it’s long enough to be perfectly comfortable when you’re curled up into his side, hanging around your arms without constricting your movement when the fabric gets bunched and stick beneath you.

“jeez, bug. aren’t you proper perfect. always treatin’ me so well.” when he looks down at you, there’s that look again, along with the sheepish smile that slowly creeps along your face. he doesn’t know how to describe it, but it’s there and it makes him curious. you’ve never been too shy with him, not anymore at least. yet, here you are, losing your train of thought every time he sweet talks you. “why do you do that?”

this time, instead of continuing to sit there with that distracted look on your face, you squint at him. his question confuses you enough to turn your head, having to tilt your head up to eye him comfortably. “do what?” you rest the base of the wine glass on your knees, propped up and pressed into your chest. the sock-covered soles of your feet are stable on the couch.

“that thing. every time i say something nice to you, you start acting weird.” hobie explained. he mirrors your expression, confused that you’re confused. how could you not know? you’re consistently doing it, each and every time without fail.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘bie.” you say with a small shake of your head. the shiny fabric of your silk bonnet catches the sunlight and reflect it back out of the skylight over your head.

hobie’s houseboat is quaint, a little small, and depends heavily on the natural lighting. several windows are littered around the walls and occasionally left open to allow the cool breeze, rolling over the water, inside the room. the kitchen and the living room are only a few steps away, so much so that hobie doesn’t necessarily need a table in the kitchen. instead, he opts for bar stools at the counter that keeps the space from feeling stuffy.

the small, gray sectional is covered in a throw blanket and a few pillows, all varying in color and material — courtesy of you. the brown, coffee table in front of you has its own decor on it. decals from different shows hobie watches, figurines of characters he’s a fan of, a couple plants too that thrive in such sunny conditions.

a little ways down the hall is the bathroom, which is more open concept than your standard way of living. the sink is left unguarded and open to the houseboat residents while the shower and toilet are surrounded by three walls and a door, all designed to mimic the texture and appearance of wood.

farther down from that is the only bedroom in the boat, the one that you frequent for midday naps when you’re seeking the comfort of your partner. the little space is does have is narrow and only enough to fit a full sized bed, stacked on top a bed frame that allows for pullout drawers beneath, optimizing the storage. there’s a window next to the bed with blinds that stay pulled up during the day so you can ogle at the soft waves the push and pull of gravity brings about.

he’s gotten his walls decorated with posters of bands, memorabilia, and other random clutter hobie’s collected over the years. it’s never truly tidy here but it’s comfortable, it’s cozy to be somewhere that feels lived in without regrets.

“you don’t know what i’m talkin’ about?” hobie reiterates with a curl of his lips. he’s got his thick, dark eyebrows furrowed together, knitting and inching together on his forehead akin to caterpillars. sometimes, he’ll rest with his head on your lap and flinch under the cold tweezers when you pluck astray hairs out of their follicles.

you shake your head again and lean further into the warmth of his side. “mm-mm,” you hum and take a sip of the stella rose, pink and swirling in the rounded walls of your glass. you can still feel his skeptical eyes focused on the top of your covered head. before he can press you anymore, you cut him off, lifting your finger to point at the screen. “she’s actually an idiot. he’s been flirting around with two other girls but she’s still trying to get with him. that’s so stupid.”

he wants to side eye you, listening to that voice in his head coming up with what feels like rational assumptions but he doesn’t, because you’ve already moved on. instead, he just shrugs and drops it entirely — for now. “maybe she’s into that. a girl cuck.”

nighttime comes peacefully. the horizon darkens as the sun dips out of visibility. you made dinner, seasoned asparagus with steaming mashed potatoes and herb-crusted chicken; hobie washed the dishes from that night and after going through the motions of getting ready for bed, you both ended up in bed and under the soft sheets, wrapped in each others arms. you’re especially grateful that the boat remains well-vented and the air is cool on the water when you’re pressed into hobie’s bare chest. his skin is always so warm to the touch, so much so that it makes you hot with prolonged contact. in the summer, you can only cuddle for a few minutes before rolling away and throwing the sheets off to cool down.

you got your phone shoved into his face, playing yet another cat video. you smile at the orange feline on your screen, running around its living room in glee. “it’s so cute. i want one so bad.”

“yeah? think you’d be better off with a rock. can’t even take care of yourself.”

you can feel him smirk into your shoulder. one of his long arms goes to trap your body before you can turn and swat at him for his antics. he knows you and how you’d probably flick his forehead for talking about you in such manner.

“what — fucking — ever. get off of me.” you mumble, writhing in his strong hold forcing you into the mattress. he’s left you with enough room to turn your head. it’s a desperate attempt but you try anyway, straining your neck towards his skin to clamp your teeth down. each time, he angles just out of your reach and scoffs.

“feral ass animal. say please and i’ll let you go.”

“hobie!” you more or less whine, lifting your legs and pushing it against is. your futile kicks do nothing but tangle your legs in his until he’s got them squeezed and trapped. you’ve officially lost and there’s nothing you can do.

hobie couldn’t be more pleased with himself and distributes more of his weight onto your back. he grins, white teeth gleaming in the yellow lighting from the lamp on the shelves above your head, set on dim and creating a cozy mood to relax in. “say it. say it or we’ll sit here all night.”

you purse, pout, and wiggle even more. your phone has been discarded and forgotten about, lost somewhere in the bed between your struggling for power. it takes a few minutes to fall still and the air fills with harsh breaths from the both of you. hobie’s giggles are mixed in with snorts and you can’t help but smile at his delight.

“fine! whatever. please let me go.” you’re more upset that you have to admit defeat than the playful battle you’ve gotten yourself in.

it’s almost immediate, the way hobie retracts his grip and removes himself from you entirely, except for the sole arm lazing over your waist, lightweight and without purpose. “atta’ girl. you’re such a good listener.”

he expect some snarky remark to leave your lips, glossy and slathered in aquaphor but nothing. you don’t do anything at all. you only lay there, hands feeling around for your phone. you don’t even turn around to smack his shoulder. you do nothing at all and it confuses him.

hobie sits up, propping his head into the palm of his hand. from here, he gets a wide view of the expression you’re trying so diligently to hide. he can see the soft, timid smile on your face. you’re too busy digging around for your phone to notice his peaked interest. by the time you’re wrapped your fingers around the now warm glass of your phone, hobie’s fingers have done the same but with your chin and tugging it in his direction. “you’re doin’ it again,” he muses.

you’re forced to roll onto your back in his new position and clutch the phone against your chest. you feel a bit like prey, stationed underneath hobie and being accused of something you aren’t even sure about. “what?” your attention flickers between both of your eyes. you’re trying to get an gauge on the situation and turn even further to him.

hobie, much like you earlier, says nothing. his brain whirs with thoughts that rush through a million miles a second. he’s back to jumping to conclusions, working through the possibilities on his own. there’s only a few theories that he can come up with but they all sound silly. all except one. “you like it, don’t you?”

“what?” you repeat, even more lost than before. you’re rapidly falling behind his train of thought and squint your eyes at him. “you have to give me more than that, hobes. i don’t understand right now.”

he repositions himself, sitting up in totality. he doesn’t hold onto you anymore and instead moves to the space in front of you, space that he created by pushing your legs apart until you’re straddling his waist. he’s got a leg hanging off the side of the bed and dangling. the other is folded into him. “are you acting dumb or are you deadass?”

the sudden change in his demeanor has you spooked, even more so because you’re left in the dark. “are you mad at me? did i do something?” you push yourself up until you’re just a few breaths away. your heart races and you’re already wondering how to make up for your wrongdoings.

with the lighting, the room is still pretty dark. you can’t see too well that far apart but when you’re up close and personal with hobie, every detail in his face is on display and perfectly meshing together.

“you like when i talk nice to you. it’s obvious, darlin’. you start acting weird every time. ever since a few weeks ago.” his accusation is based on a few things he’s noticed as the days passed.

“well, yeah.” you sound like he’s the one pretending to be dumb, getting so worked up because you’re appreciative of his kindness. “of course i do . . .? what’s your point?”

hobie shakes his head. his own night cap glints with the occasional red glow. by now, he’s got his hands on your waist making temporary indents into your skin. “no. no, not like that. i’m talking about you like it. like, real bad. like, i bet i could get your panties wet from it, alone.”

your mouth falls open in a shocked o shape. it catches you completely off guard that he’s so suddenly brought up your infatuation with his sweet talk in such a suggestive manner. “huh?” is all you can manage because worst of all, you know he’s right because you have been hoping you’ve been discrete about it this entire time. “shut up?!”

“you didn’t say no.” he looks arrogant now, thumbing the elastic band of your cheeky-cut underwear, made from a gray cotton material and hemmed with a cream lace trim. the little bow on the front is sewn in and perfected with perma-stitches. hobie pulls it back and retracts his thumb. every time it snaps back into place, his grin widens. “i mean, if you wanna experiment, we can. y’know i never mind it, gorgeous.”

it’s suffocating. this whole thing is suffocating and you feel like you’re going to die in the best way possible. this so called “experiment” was not supposed to go this far. it was only supposed to be for a little bit, a half hour max and then you’d both go to sleep with the new knowledge to expand upon at another time. this was particularly important because you had to wake up early tomorrow and hobie knows this. it’s your fault; you shouldn’t have believed him. he looked too excited to worship you in praises and got so carried away that you’ve gotten your chest pushed into the bed. the arch of your back is so deep, you’re pushing your ass so high in the air and against hobie’s thighs.

hobie’s experiment is going so well for him. he’s gotten his chest against your back and his lips right next to your ear. his goal, done successfully, is to make his words as clear as possible so they process in your brain and send another wave of desire racking through every nerve of your body. a hand of his swipes along your clit, curling around the front of your body. his arm is getting somewhat squished underneath you but he couldn’t give fuck all about it. he’s too busy focusing on your wanton moans as you lose yourself, throwing your ass back fervently.

you got your head planted firmly into the bed and hobie hates it. he despises the muffled tone he’s given no choice but to hear; he puts up with it only because he’s having so much fun, too much fun. leaned down so close the the shell of your ear, he’s able to speak so alluringly, never mind the gravely tone his voice had taken on under the strain of casting his pleasure to the back of his mind. “my good — shit, god you’re so perfect — good fuckin’ girl.”

your response is nothing but open-mouthed whines into the sheets, leaving behind a damp trace of the shape of your lips in your wake. your legs quiver and would have otherwise been plopped onto the bed but you’re held up, what little strength you can muster through your forearms and hobie’s snacked around your waist working together keeping you where he’s got you.

you roll your head in his direction and cup his cheek. you look needy, basking in the warm lighting and drowning out the croaking frogs hidden in the shrubbery surrounding the lake. your fingers dig into his cheek to pull him closer and attach your lips to his, rewarding him with wet and sloppy kiss. both of your saliva mix as your tongues swirl against each other.

each particularly deep thrust paired with the smooth words of encouragement constantly flowing from hobie sends another watery gush of arousal from your cunt. it leaks down the sides of your thighs and becomes slathered on hobie’s.

he can’t help but laugh when your attempts to kiss him fall weak and you’re moaning against him. “hobie,” you whisper with a flutter of your eyelashes. they brush across his cheek and hide the burning desire in the brown rim of your eyes behind your eyelids.

a shudder runs down your back, all in preparation for your ultimate undoing. your head droops back into the bed and you clutch the sheets between your fingers. it’s all balled up and pulled into wrinkles.

he wants to reassure you but he can’t; hobie isn’t any better. he’s just as needy as you are, just as dizzy and on the brink of ascending. it’s just something that comes with being buried in your fluttering cunt. “perfect fuckin’ pussy. soo wet f’me, huh.” he says it more like a statement than a question. he doesn’t have to ask because he knows. it’s not like there’s anyone else that can get you to unravel like this, get you so soft beneath them, get your cunt dripping in slick.

there’s a moment when all movement stills and the feeling, the orgasm ebbing away brings a certain discontent that makes you mewl in hopes that the sound would active some carnal sense in his brain. it doesn’t. the only thing that happens is hobie shifting behind you, lifting his torso until he’s looking down at you. his hands grip at your waist, thumbs pressed into the curved dimples in your back. he likes to think they’ve gotten deeper from the amount of times he’s planted them here. “you want it?”

if you were in your right mind, perhaps the eagerness at which your head rise and falls with a nod. “yes, yes please. please, hobie. i want it.” by now, your bonnet had slipped off and tumbled onto the floor, leaving your hair exposed to the elements. you’re fortune to have twisted it a few days ago because even with the hairs beginning to frizz and coil into knots, most of it remains maintainable.

you can feel his rather large palms massaging your skin. it jiggles in waves whenever his hand cracks down hot and heavy. with enough time, you’re sure he could leave behind a dull shade of red. “do it yourself then, treacle. go ahead. take your dick.” he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, brushing your hair off your shoulders until he’s able to get a good, firm grip. he’s able to lift your head this way, pulling you out of your trance so you’d really and truly hear him.

you can feel your breath hitch and is stolen away. your limbs move for you, reaching out and taking a hold of the headboard. the other hand is firm on the bed, as firm as you can get it. you’re panting by the time you’ve gotten yourself here but you know it’s the right decision because hobie’s fingers trail down the column of your spine.

your tongue goes to spread across your now chapped lips. you can feel each ridge created from your once hydrated lips, stolen from the kisses and rubbing against the sheets. with your newfound hold, you sniff, grit your teeth, and throw yourself back against him.

hobie does nothing else but lightly hold your waist and eye each ripple of your round cheeks when they slam against his groan. he wants to throw his head back but then he’d miss his front row seat to your show, in all your glory. “l - look at you. mmm, fuck! looks so — . . . so good.”

you’re so mouthy, now but it’s all warbling and blabber, nonstop and nonsensical in tandem with every stroke you subject yourself to. it’s unexpected that this is what the night ultimately led to. after watching tv, eating dinner, and bickering with the love of your life, he finishes it off by filling your pretty little head with praises.

“look at how you fit around me. y’so good.” hobie peels apart the round globes of your ass. he’s able to get a clear view of his cock, long and skinny, sinking in between the folds of your cunt. it all glistens with arousal, coating the base of his shaft in a thin, milky liquid. he can’t help but lower his head towards your body and stick out his tongue. a droplet of his spit rolls down his tongue. it adds to the wet mixture of your sex and gets lost in all the precum.

he’s going to kill you, you’re certain. his cock is going to crawl its way up your esophagus and murder you. there’s no way it won’t with how full you feel, your cunt and your brain. still, even with how overwhelmed you feel, there’s no chance you will ever stop. if anything, it’s reinforcement to keep going, to hold the headboard harder, to launch your body back farther. the praise is going straight to your head and he knows it. hell, you know it. to die like this would be an honor and somewhere, in the deep, depths of your brain, you’re hoping it never ends.

#⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 . . . 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 . . . ☄️ 𝜗𝜚⋆#hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #x black reader #astv hobie #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n

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dorka · 3 months

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Most mar a garbage day is megirta (egybol ossze is omlott a site)

Over the weekend, the always-excellent John Burn-Murdoch, over at The Financial Times, posted an alarming bit of demographic analysis that has now gone very viral. It’s from a column Burn-Murdoch wrote titled, “A New Global Gender Divide Is Emerging,” which shows a tremendous political gap forming between young men and women around the world.

Burn-Murdoch followed up the column with a lengthy thread on X hypothesizing as to what may be causing this gap and thousands of other users have offered up their own diagnoses, as well: Smartphones, video games, economic inequality, lack of education, an over-correction post-#MeToo.

Interestingly enough, though, the bulk of Burn-Murdoch’s reporting focuses on South Korea, the US, Germany, the UK, Spain, Poland, China, and Tunisia. Which, aside from China and Tunisia, were all countries I worked in, covering elections and far-right radicalization, in and around the time period those countries’ respective political gender gaps began widening. I’m not saying I have a tremendously in-depth understanding of, say, Polish toxic masculinity, but I did spend several days there following around white nationalist rappers and Catholic fundamentalist football fans. And, in South Korea, I worked on a project about radical feminists and their activism against the country’s equivalent of 4chan, Ilbe Storehouse.

In fact, between 2015-2019, I visited over 20 countries, essentially asking the same question: Where do bad men here hangout online? Which has given me a near-encyclopedic directory in my head, unfortunately, of international 4chan knock-offs. In Spain, it’s a car forum that doxxes rape victims called ForoCoches. In France, it’s a gaming forum that organized rallies for Marine Le Pen called Jeux Video. In Japan, it’s 2channel. In Brazil, it’s Dogolachan. And most, if not all, of these spaces pre-date any sort of modern social movement like #MeToo — or even the invention of the smartphone.

But the mainstream acceptance of the culture from these sites is new. Though I don’t actually think the mystery of “why now?” is that much of a mystery. While working in Europe, I came to understand that these sites and their culture war campaigns like Gamergate were a sort of emerging form of digital hooliganism. Nothing they were doing was new, but their understanding how to network online was novel. And in places like the UK, it actually became more and more common in the late-2010s to see Pepe the Frog cosplayers marching alongside far-right football clubs. In the US, we don’t have the same sports culture, but the end result has been the same. The nerds and the jocks eventually aligned in the streets. The anime nazis were simply early adopters and the tough guys with guns and zip ties just needed time to adapt to new technology. And, unlike the pre-internet age, unmoderated large social platforms give them an infinitely-scalable recruitment radius. They don’t have to hide in backrooms anymore.

Much of the digital playbook fueling this recruitment for our new(ish) international masculinist movement was created by ISIS, the true early adopters for this sort of thing. Though it took about a decade for the West to really embrace it. But nowadays, it is not uncommon to see trad accounts sharing memes about “motherhood,” that are pretty much identical to the Disney Princess photoshops ISIS brides would post on Tumblr to advertise their new life in Syria. And, even more darkly, just this week, a Trump supporter in Pennsylvania beheaded his father and uploaded it to YouTube, in a video where he ranted about the woke left and President Biden. Online extremism is a flat circle.

The biggest similarity, though, is in what I can cultural encoding. For ISIS, this was about constantly labeling everything that threatened their influence as a symptom of the decadent, secular West.

(X.com/jeremykauffman)

Taylor Swift, an extremely affluent blonde, blue-eyed white woman who writes country-inflected pop music and is dating a football player headed for the Super Bowl. She should be a resounding victory for these guys. Doesn’t get more American than that. But due to an actually very funny glitch in how they see the world, she’s actually a huge threat.

Pop culture, according to the right wing, should be frivolous. Because before the internet, it was something sold to girls by corporations run by powerful men. Famous pop stars through the ages, like Frank Sinatra, America’s first Justin Bieber, or The Beatles, the One Direction of their time, would be canonized as Great by Serious Men after history had forgotten they rocketed to success as their generation’s Tumblr Sexymen. But from the 2000s onward, thanks to an increasingly powerful digital public square, young women and people of color were able to have more influence in mainstream culture and also accumulate more financial power from it. And after Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign was able to connect this new form of pop influence to both liberal progressive politics and, also, social media, well, conservatives realized they had to catch up and fast. And the fastest way to do that is to try and smash the whole thing by dismissing it as feminine.

Pop music? It’s for girls. Social media? It’s for girls. Democrats? Girls. Taylor Swift? Girls and also a government psyop. But this line of thinking has no limit. It poisons everything. If Swift manages to make it to the Super Bowl, well, that has to become feminine too. And at a certain point, the whole thing falls apart because, honestly, you just sound like an insane loser.

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caralara · 24 days

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I know Louis' your fave so I hope it's okay that I send you this. But recently the blinkers have been coming off for me in regards to Louis. I think I used to have him up on a bit of a pedestal. I just thought he was this really intelligent guy, really aware of social issues and willing to fight for the right thing and be rebellious when necessary. I don't know. I saw things playing out very differently. But unfortunately, lately, I've been seeing a lot of laziness and complacency and a willingness to settle from him. A lot of contradictions as well. Like he gets the anarchist symbol tattooed but doesn't speak out or place his support behind anything substantial. I'm sorry, legalizing weed is his most political stance. And then being seen with the Starbucks cup and actually covering it in the video like lmao. Not knowing what number year your festival is when he supposedly had big dreams for it. I know this is so small but it irks me that he's been going on about playing the guitar for years. And he is yet to bring it on stage for even one song! I know it comes from a place of self-doubt and insecurity no matter how confident he makes himself appear but like he just doesn't help himself. And fans exaggerating and praising every little thing he does as if he isn't just some basic white man does my head in. Sorry I word vomited on you and I know this sounds harsh but I acknowledge it comes from a bitter place where I feel like his potential is just not being met. At the end it's his life and I genuinely hope he doesn't have many regrets later on.

hi babe

I think I am completely in the same situation as you! I might not be triggered by exactly the same things but I’ve been going over and over it for the last couple days asking myself why I’m so annoyed with him right now?? And I think it really is just the disappointment finding out your fave man is after all, just a man.

Like, to me, it feels like he’s been stagnant since early 2023. right now, to me it feels like he’s just on the hunt for the cheap thrill, getting the validation in that he also can pull massive crowds of screaming girls just like he did during 1D (and it isn’t even the actual validation he’s looking for??? Like he still starts yapping every time a man validates him as if it’s so much more important??)

I feel like he lost focus, or energy, or both. You know, you said it!! You know I love Louis to death, he’s my favourite, and genuinely, I don’t blame him. It makes a lot of sense to me. He’s finally proven himself to not be a flop to all the people doubting him. He’s overcome all the obstacles, did LTWT and had massive success with it, way beyond anyone expected, rode that wave, made a second album that proved he’s not a one hit wonder either, an album he actually enjoyed making, and proved his fans liked it, too. And then… it just kind of stagnated. His team made mistakes and miscalculations. Announcing Asia tour so short notice thinking, then cancelling bc it didn’t sell out, handling the announcements horribly, not realising LTWT was massive bc of all the pent up excitement and desire throughout years of a pandemic, the magnetism of it being the first solo world tour. They also didn’t get it when it came to Milano Summer fest vs. AFHF. The 35k sold out bc it was announced many months in advance and it was the last LTWT show - that’s meaningful to fans. It was easily accessible. You can’t translate just the numbers to „it’s bc he’s popular in Italy,“ there’s so many factors at play they ignored, and therefore AFHF Italy only sold 2/3 of tickets, and a lot of these people didn’t even show up (couldn’t, I better say).

For me, FITF felt like he had checked out a little. He’s plateauing. The excitement and irresistible draw he has is largely due to his resilience, his underdog persona he created that allows normal people to identify with him. And there just wasn’t any… growth since early 2023. He‘s also alienated a large part of his fandom with the bbg pushes, and as you know, I still believe it was all part of the bigger plan to end it, but it does feel like he gave up, got comfortable. And it’s not that I blame him for it necessarily?? Like all he’s been through? It makes a lot of sense to me that now he’s achieved all the things people told him he wouldn’t be able to achieve, that now the burn out sets in, that now, the driving energy of spite and wanting to prove himself has run out.

I feel like the jokes of “oh I’m a pothead I can’t remember if it’s the third or fourth edition of my super duper important close to my heart festival project” or “oh yeah sometimes I forget I’m an actual parent and have a kid” are getting old. Like, it doesn’t serve him anymore it feels like? To me it feels like the weed was a coping mechanism that helped him get through hard times, and that’s completely valid, but now it looks like to me it’s holding him back, blurring his genius.

I’m sorry for the rant back to you. I’m deeply upset because Louis is my escape, my happy place, fandom is my comfort, and I feel like it’s slipping through my fingers because it causes me more upset than happiness at this point. The amount of “kill yourself” messages I have gotten over criticising louis for announcing AFHF so short notice is frankly INSANE. Do people not talk to other people in real life?? How do the people around these people that send those messages deal with them in real life?? It’s so upsetting to see how many people feel comfortable typing out these kind of messages and sending them.

I do hope this feeling of mine calms down, and I can go back to just glorifying louis and have him as my comfort place, because I do not like the thoughts I have and the way it makes me feel.

#anon #louis #sorry anon #please be gentle with me #I am just genuinely expressing my feelings #and believe me I am aware that I am judgemental #and have no idea what his life and thoughts etc look like in reality bc I don’t know him at all #but this is my fandom experience #and the way I feel about it atm

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yellowjacketsgayfanfic · 11 months

Text

You and Shauna get into a fender bender, and she ends up leaving Jeff for you.

SUBMISSION: Shauna hits Reader's car, one thing leads to another and they start having an affair (basically the Adam situation in season 1) Reader falls in love with Shauna but is afraid to tell her because she knows she's married, Shauna leaves Jeff and gets together with Reader

In all honesty, you were definitely the one at fault for the accident. You had stopped short because there was an animal in the road. You had felt Shauna ram into you, of course, but your immediate first response was to run to the kitten trying to cross the intersection.

It looked dirty, so you removed your shirt and wrapped it around the little thing, lifting it safely into your arms.

Shauna got out of her car. "Hey! What the fuck!"

You turned around, cradling the poor thing, wondering where the nearest rescue shelter might be. "Hi!"

"You stopped short." She was exasperated, hands on her hips. "This is your fault!"

"I'm sorry." You smiled. "I would've run over this little guy, and I wanted to make sure that didn't happen."

Shauna eyed you, and then the kitten, and then you again. "Well. Now my car needs to go into the shop, so, I hope it was worth it."

You brought the cat a little closer to Shauna. "I'll pay for the damages, really. We don't even have to involve insurance. Just tell me how much it is, and I'll put the cash down."

She seemed bewildered by your honest to God kindness. "What is this? What is this... cute thing you've got going on here?"

You smiled. "Not trying to be cute, ma'am. I know it's my fault. How about we swap phone information?"

"Okay." She sighed, going back into her car to pull out a pen.

You walked over to her. "Write your number on my arm, and I'll tell you what mine is."

She eyed you for a moment, feeling immensely awkward about touching you while you were only in your sports bra. She wrote her phone number on your free forearm, and then she wrote yours on hers.

"I'm gonna go get this poor thing to a rescue shelter. Feel free to call me if there's anything you need though." You said.

"Okay... uh, hey, what's your name?"

You were walking away now, so you threw your head back, "Y/N."

***

When she did finally decide to call you up, it was very late on that same night. You told her to come over to your place, you'd give her a check for the cash she needed on the car, and she agreed.

She showed up on your doorstep wearing the same outfit as you had seen her in earlier in the day. You on the other hand, were already in your pajamas, sweat pants and a tight fitting white t-shirt with your alma mater on the chest, including the year you graduated.

When you opened the door for her, she found herself looking down to your shirt and her eyes widened. "Oh my."

You looked down and let out a laugh. "What? Not a big fan of Ramapo College?"

"No, no." She shook her head. "You're just... a baby. You're a baby."

You cocked your hip to the side. "Well, this baby is about to pay for the damages to your car, so come on in." You handed her the check she asked for, and she took it into her pocket.

"Want a drink?" You asked.

"You can legally buy alcohol?" She joked.

"Oh, very funny." You trotted into the kitchen. "What are you in the mood for?" You opened the cabinets to your very large collection of booze.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, Jesus."

"I'm a bar tender. I sneak bottles home sometimes." You shrugged. "And I never get caught."

"Okay. So you save animals by day, and you're a criminal by night." Shauna observed. "Good to know."

You rolled your eyes in response, grabbing the fixings for a vodka martini. "You're being kind of bitchy for someone who is getting their car fixed for free."

She paused, a little taken aback by your suddenly vulgar mouth, but she couldn't help but find it attractive.

You placed the bottles and mixers on your counter. Shauna watched you as created two drinks, shaking the booze between two metal cups vigorously. She watched as you poured the liquid into two chilled glasses. You were a real professional. Her eyes landed on your chest once more, not because she was trying to read it again, but because it was hugging your breasts tightly.

You slid Shauna's drink over to with a sly smile working its way to your lips. "My eyes are up here."

And she did look into your eyes, which were dark and brooding. You raised a brow at her, bending over the counter she was sitting at. "You've been staring at my tits the entire time you've been here... Shauna, right?"

She nodded, incapable of forming a response to your very forward words.

"Something you want to say to me?" You asked, sipping on your drink.

"I'm married." She spat out. "And I haven't been with a woman since college."

"Happily married?" You asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I think he's fucking another woman."

You chuckled. "They always are. I'm lucky I don't like men, that would really suck for me."

"How did you know you were gay?" She asked you with genuine curiosity, shyly looking up at you.

You took the seat next to her, your knees touching. "Well, I knew I liked girls by the time I was five. I knew I didn't like guys when I was fourteen and slept with a girl for the first time. I really love eating box."

You could tell Shauna was getting increasingly more flustered, which was your objective, by the way. She squeezed her legs together tightly, a hand reaching down to her thighs.

"Shauna?" You looked down at her now quivering legs. "If your husband is fucking a woman on the side, you're well within your right to do the same."

She let out a breathy little moan when you said that, and within seconds you were attached at the mouth. Her hands were under your shirt, which she'd been fantasizing about doing this entire time, and you were tugging her jacket off. By the time you left your drinks behind in the kitchen to make it into your bedroom, you were both completely naked, and you spent all night fucking each others brains out.

The sun was rising when you'd both had enough. She was looking down at you, thinking you were practically glistening in the gold light of the sun through your blinds. "How do I know if I'm gay, or if I just don't want to be with my husband anymore?"

You eyed her, opening your thighs wide. She followed her gaze to you, fighting the urge to play some more. "How do you feel when you see me versus your husband?"

"Like I want to never get out of this bed." She breathed.

You smiled, closing up shop again and lifting your arms behind your head. "Ever felt that way with uh, what's his name?"

"Jeff." She responded. "And no. Never."

You shrugged. "Maybe you're gay. Maybe you just married the wrong person. Who knows. What I do know," you rolled onto your eyes and pinched Shauna's nipple in between your pointer finger and thumb. "is that I would like to see you again."

She lifted your hand to her mouth, giving it a kiss. "I'd like that very much."

***

If you were honest, you thought you were just having some fun. You never expected to be so head over heels for a woman you were certain was unavailable. You didn't feel bad for the affair, of course, considering how terribly Shauna's husband made her feel and his inability to put her first. But you were scared that if you were perfectly honest with Shauna about your feelings, you'd be left heartbroken. This thought kept you awake at night oftentimes. You'd never felt this way about another woman before, and it killed you that the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with was very married with a grown child.

Then, one Saturday morning, there was a knock at your door. You were playing with the very same cat you had picked up that day that Shauna had rammed into you. You couldn't help yourself.

You weren't expecting anyone, but you nevertheless went to the door to see who it was. Behind it was Shauna who had her hands balled into fists and her chin held high.

You smiled at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I filed for divorce." She breathed out.

You looked at her with wide eyes, your jaw slacking. "You what?"

She walked into your apartment. "Listen, I need to be honest. I really like you, and you taught me what it means to actually feel attracted to someone and be happy with them. You could be doing anything, and I would be so happy just to be beside you. I didn't want to live another day not knowing that kind of love, and it's fine if you don't want anything serious with me, because now I'm free to find that-"

"Shauna." You mumbled, closing the door behind her. "You're really leaving, Jeff?"

"I'm really leaving, Jeff." She repeated.

You pursed your lips tightly. "For me?"

"If you want me."

Your bottom lip quivered. "I was so scared you wouldn't leave him, Shaun."

Not expecting the tears, Shauna still jumped into action and took you into your arms. "Hey, hey, don't cry."

You gripped onto her tightly. "I love you. I was so scared you would just leave me behind."

"You love me?" She mumbled into your hair.

"Yes." You cried. "Oh my God, I think my heart might explode with how much love for you I have."

She gripped you even tighter then. "I love you too."

#yellowjackets #fluff #angst #shauna sadecki #wlw #oneshot #drabble #x reader #fanfic #submission #open for submissions

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spacecatsocblog · 1 year

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Concept for one of the main characters of Space Cats, Psyche!

Psyche is actually the first character I ever made for this story back in the 6th grade... around 8 years ago (omg I cant believe this story is almost 9 yrs old...)

info on Psyche (this is long im very sorry):

He is a jaded 35 yr old fighter pilot for the Felis Military, he does his job because he has to, as he signed his life way at 18 to become a soldier.

Psyche is smart and has figured out how shit and secretive the government is, but he has accepted that there is nothing he can do about it. He is pretty much always grumpy, he doesn't like to talk much, and he's short with most people.

However he is actually an amazing pilot and fighter, he's sure to rise in the ranks, as long as he doesn't lose his temper too much and reveal his distaste for the government.

...

Almost all soldiers in the Felis Military are assigned a partner during training in the academy. If a cat has family in the academy at the time, they are almost always partnered with them. Psyche very much so knew this when he joined, as he and his (adopted) brother Clvic joined the military together so they could be eachother's copilots.

Psyche doesn't like to talk about Clvic anymore... his brother is gone, and he's gotten in enough trouble for questioning his death. He refuses to believe the government is telling the truth, but as he knows, there's nothing he can do about it.

For the longest time Psyche was a rare lone pilot, refusing to be assigned another copilot. The government only allowed it because Psyche was one of their best pilots in the force, they warned him however that eventually he would be assigned a new pilot.

When that day came Psyche was assigned Tygam, a cat who had lost his hind legs in battle and had to let his copilot be reassigned while he recovered. Psyche was absolutely pissed about this whole situation, especially since Tygam is a talkative, cocky, idiot (Psyche's words).

However they actually become a great duo, Tygam gets Psyche out of his shell, and Psyche gets Tygam to stop and think before he flings himself at danger and looses another limb.

...

Other fact that I didn't fit in above, Psyche is bi and poly, he is mates with a molly named Silo who is slightly insane and a high end weapons designer (i love her).

Psyche also eventually becomes mates with Tygam as well and the three of them raise Tygam's orphaned niece as their child! In prev versions of this story Psyche and Silo also have kittens but in not sure if I will keep that this time around... idk 🤷‍♂️

...

Extra facts about prev versions of Psyche:

In the 6th grade when he was first created he was originally named Cycodelic Space Cat (yes spelled that way) and he was pink bec I had one pack of gell pens and they were all bright colors.

I am glad i made him tho bec his story has come so far, and if I hadn't made him pink the space cat species would look so boring.

Psyche was also a happy spunky guy when I first made him but now he's all sad and traumatized :p makes him more interesting hehe

Also in the first versions the government was chill and they were fighting space dogs, (I was a big fan of the Cats vs Dogs movie) but now the government sucks and the plot is about rebellion yay!

...

[Image 1 ID: a digital drawing of Psyche, a alien cat oc. He is standing with his right side showing and his right paw raised. He has a tired, unimpressed expression on his face. He is a a slender long furred mostly white cat with pink patches of fur and green eyes. The patches of pink, are on the top of his head, covering his ears and forehead, and going down between his eyes, pink also lines his under eye. There is another large patch of pink on his flank and covering his tail. He has scars on his flank and the bridge of his nose, and they, along with his nose and ears are bright green. He is also wearing a dull green collar with a red plus symbol in a circle, a grey star and a grey bar on it./End ID]

[Image 2 ID: a drawing the same as the previous one, but this time Psyche is wearing a bulky/puffy dull green jacket with red accents. The jacket has large bulky sleeves and a large collar, the cuffs of the jacket, the zipper, and the edge of the collar are all bright red. The jacket also has darker green thick vertical stripes, one on the sleeve and two on the back. There us also a large red circular patch with a darker red plus on the shoulder of the jacket./End ID]

#Cryptidclaw’sSpaceCats #space cats #Psyche #ocs #cat ocs #my ocs #cats #digital drawing #my art #original character #original story #character design #warriors

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limeade-l3sbian · 2 years

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Spoilers for several female characters’ arcs, including Arlong Park and Dressrosa

One Piece is the best-selling manga of all time, full stop. Its mangaka, Oda Eiichiro, is one of the highest-earning authors of all time, taking second place as a comics author only to Garfield creator Jim Davis. While other titans of the industry like Naruto and Bleach have finally ended their original sagas, One Piece remains ongoing. After nearly twenty-five years of serialization, Oda’s epic has had a huge impact on its fans and the manga industry as a whole.

But while One Piece looms large in the present and past, conversations about how Oda treats women have often taken place on a surface level. Oda started out his career by including women in prominent and active roles in his stories. As time went on, his vindictive nature towards fans meant he started taking out the criticisms he received on his female characters and fans alike, undoing the good work he had done in the series’ early days.

Oda’s relationship to gender isn’t static, and his early work in One Piece is quite different from what he’s producing now. In the beginning, Oda’s women are positive, if flawed, examples of female characters. While no character design in One Piece can truly be called “realistic,” its women were complex people with believable proportions. As the series went on, however, he began punishing female fans demanding better representation by diminishing women’s roles.

Examples of his attitude near the beginning of One Piece’s run are present in the SBS, the long-running Q&A section featured in most One Piece volumes featuring Oda’s often unfiltered sentiments.

D: Were there really woman pirates? O: Yes, there were. But it was considered bad luck to bring a woman on board a ship in those days, and so many of them disguised themselves as men. There were two woman pirates, Mary Read and Anne Bonny, who were said to have fought more bravely than any man. By the way, my character Alvida was based on a female pirate named Awilda (or Alvida) who formed a pirate crew comprised entirely of women. (Chapter 50, Page 124)

Oda is citing his sources and giving reasons why women belong in the One Piece world. It’s unnecessary—he is, after all, creating a fantasy universe where a boy made of rubber fights bad guys, so why should he need to justify female characters existing—but shows that Oda’s done his research and believes female pirates belong in his universe.

This is most clearly seen in Nami, the first (and for years, the only) female member of Luffy’s crew, the Straw Hats. Her role is that of the navigator, which occupies a tremendously important position; however, her combat abilities lag far behind the others’ from the very beginning.

Nami is also a money-grubbing thief, a role that paints the only major female character before Robin’s introduction as a duplicitous femme fatale in blue and white stripes instead of slinky dresses. Robin also fits this stereotype–she’s just better at it.

While Nami’s not the only member of the Straw Hats whose primary abilities aren’t physical combat, compare her company. Usopp may run at the first hint of a fight, but his skills lie in long-range combat as a sniper. While Chopper may primarily be a physician (and reindeer), he can still turn into a bulked-up version of himself in a pinch. Nami has her baton, but she uses it rarely and usually in last-ditch scenarios that end in defeat.

When Nami’s engagements in combat don’t end in defeat, it’s usually because she’s fighting against other women. Women versus women is a trope in long running shounen of this era – watch Naruto and count how many times a woman beats a man head-on. While these battles may be compelling narrative, in One Piece they’re not treated as serious battles compared to the “real” fights, which are Luffy or Zoro or Sanji fighting against the big bad of the arc. It feels like many female villains are only created to give Nami something to do during climactic battles.

The thing is, though, Oda is a good enough writer that he complicates any simple reading of Nami as a sexist caricature. Nami’s backstory, as played out at Arlong Park, is one of the most emotionally affecting parts of the East Blue Saga. Nami spends the first several arcs backstabbing and double-crossing Luffy & Co. for her own goals. She’s had to go it alone for years, and can’t trust anyone on her path of freeing herself from a tyrant. Asking Luffy for help is a moment of genuine character growth for a woman who has been forced to see everyone but herself as a mark.

Nami’s deceased mother figure, Belle-Mère, is also a huge part of this arc, and significant time is spent on her backstory. Belle-Mère is a former military officer, a fighting woman who adopted two orphaned children fresh out of the Marines. Despite her self-sacrificing death, she is presented as both morally and physically intimidating, her kind personality offset by nerves of steel.. As Oda explained in another SBS segment, even Bell-mère’s distinctive hairstyle is indicative of the way Oda writes her.

O: That hairstyle is called “Women have Guts”. You should yell it out in a beauty parlor. (Chapter 87, Page 128)

Sure, the hair is ugly, but it’s a clear indicator that he sees women as capable of possessing the same drive and fighting spirit as men.

There are also other female figures important to the Straw Hats’ backstories, such as Zoro’s formative childhood rival, Kuina. Zoro was never able to beat Kuina growing up, but Oda’s writing presents Zoro’s inability to win against Kuina as a result of his age: because he had not yet hit puberty, he couldn’t beat his rival in a fight. Kuina expressed sorrow and frustration that Zoro would eventually surpass her after he hit puberty, something she viewed as unavoidable due to her gender. Her death is Zoro’s primary motivation behind becoming the world’s greatest swordsman, but the potential for her character is never realized.

This arc sets so much up, not just for Zoro but for the series’ approach to women. The way moving forward seems obvious—presenting an adult woman who challenges Zoro as he is now, thus resolving his childhood trauma—but the series fails to do that… despite introducing Sergeant Tashigi, a swordswoman foil to Zoro who looks exactly like Kuina.

Although Tashigi initially seems like the obvious rival for Zoro, he instead remains overwhelmingly her superior while her position in the Marines is undermined by gendered condescension, with her troops sacrificing their lives to protect her rather than trusting in her skill. She’s not an asset; she’s a liability.

Despite laying the groundwork to defy Kuina’s internalized gender stereotypes through Tashigi, Oda uses her incompetence to justify them. Kuina has a fighting spirit and is thus sad she’s a woman. Instead of showing the reader that this is wrong through the narrative, Oda’s writing agrees with her.

It’s not that Oda thinks women don’t have the heart for it. This is said in his own words in the SBS:

D: HI!! Eiichi! You said in Volume 27 that the Jaya arc was “A man’s romance”?! As a woman of 18 years, how would you define my “burning passion for adventure” and “infinite dreams”?! And all my blood goes to my head when I read your manga!!! Take responsibility for it!!! Please take responsibility and include the girls, too. From Her New Nye Co. O: A woman’s romance? No, it’s a bit complicated. The word “man” is sometimes used like an adjective. Really good women have men in themselves. You call them “chic”. So I’ll scream it once again: Men and women can use “A MAN’S ROMANCE”!! Women are included!! (Chapter 263, Page 164)

What limited Oda in these early days was not the idea that women don’t want to fight, but the belief women are fundamentally physically weaker than men.

There are women throughout the story, but Kuina’s belief that puberty will strip her of all her advantages is repeatedly proven right as the plot develops. Sergeant Tashigi isn’t a satisfying successor to Kuina’s early death because she doesn’t follow through on the set-up for Kuina’s storyline or being a rival to Zoro. Instead, she proves that a fighting spirit can’t overcome the physical weakness of being a woman.

In Oda’s world, women lack the same prowess in combat as male characters despite the presence of magic Devil Fruit powers. Physically imposing women like Alvida and Big Mom are mocked to the point of inhumanity for their appearances and weight, while attractive women are rarely powerful. In the rare case a woman manages to be both powerful and attractive, like Robin, they mysteriously miss all the action.

Early One Piece isn’t perfect, but there was solid ground to build on. Oda could have grown into his female characters. He already understood the hard part, after all: that women strive for the same human desires of fighting and protecting as men.

Even with issues this endemic, Oda ultimately humanizes the women who populate the East Blue. He clearly understands that women have motivations: that they love and hurt and hate and desire for vengeance all on their own. Oda knows—or at least expressed, back in the late 1990s and early 2000s—a clear understanding that women are people, with all the messy results this entails.

But instead of listening to the negative feedback he started receiving, Oda doubled down.

I don’t think Oda hates women. It’s simpler than that: Oda doesn’t like it when people read his characters in ways he didn’t intend. He’s said it himself in interviews. On some level, I can’t blame him. It’s frustrating when readers misconstrue something you’ve written. In an interview at Color Walk 6 in 2014, Oda said:

“I get annoyed to hear people speaking ill of characters in ONE PIECE. For example, when they say ‘this villain is weak’, I can’t help thinking that then I’ll make him much stronger!”

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The reemergence of Sir Crocodile, one of the series’ early antagonists, is among my favorite moments of the series, and it likely happened as Oda’s response to fans calling him weak. Here, Oda’s decision to prove complaining fans wrong by changing the text improved the series.

Oda’s reactions to complaints about his portrayal of women in SBS, however, are another story.

D: Nice to meet you. This is sudden, but… please teach us a tip or two on how to draw that hawt hourglass body all ONE PIECE female characters seem to have! Make sure you don’t forget to include their airbags ♡ P.N. If there’s no bread, let them eat roses~ O: Yes. Hello. It’s drawing time at the SBS segment. I would suggest that you think of a woman’s proportions as “three circles, one X”. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be leaving. (I only draw this kind of body, so I get a lot of complaint postcards from my female audience. Let’s all stay strong and keep on living life.) (Chapter 786, Page 24)

This is where his pettiness goes from fun and relatable to troubling. In Oda’s own words, a “lot” of women complain that he doesn’t do right by his female characters. He could reflect on the validity of these many complaints and use that feedback to improve his narrative. Instead, he doubles down on the character traits people took issue with.

Complaining that a villain is “weak” is an opinion that engages with the media in-world and doesn’t affect anyone. Female fans writing in to express that they are uncomfortable with the portrayal of their gender in his work are talking about something that impacts them personally. Poor representations of women in the media have the potential to affect the way other people in the real world see these women, from cultural perceptions to concrete working conditions.

Despite explicitly acknowledging that many women who read One Piece don’t like his representation, Oda dismisses them and advises his audience to “all stay strong and keep on living life.” Female fans who complain are moved from the “fan” category to “other.” Oda paints himself as the brave one even as he makes his female fans the target for ridicule by aligning his audience with him against “them.”

Meanwhile, Oda’s character designs grew more sexualized, not less. Here are side-by-side comparisons of Nami, one at the beginning of the series, one directly before the two-year time skip, and one of her afterward.

Some… things… certainly changed. Long before I ever interacted with One Piece seriously—before I knew anything but the most basic details of the premise—I remember people joking about the huge change in the way female characters looked after the timeskip. This is egregiously sexist character design, enough that people with no vested interest in representing female characters well still took note when it happened. Oda took the timeskip as an opportunity to respond to female complaints and male desires: look, everyone, he said, look at my female characters now.

This change for the worse wasn’t just visual, but affected the narrative as well. This is clearly seen in Rebecca, a major female character in the Dressrosa saga. It’s not just that she’s a 16-year-old in a chainmail bikini, but that her agency is repeatedly denied as the story unfolds.

Rebecca is a gladiator taught by her paternal figure to only fight when absolutely necessary. However, when that time arrives in the story, he denies her the opportunity. Despite Rebecca’s skill, this older man’s desire to protect her supersedes her desire to protect her loved ones. It’s taken as a given that she wouldn’t want to fight unless there was absolutely no other way. In other coming-of-age stories, her lack of desire to fight might prove the necessity of doing so when it comes down to the wire. Instead, a man (her mentor no less, a character type who’s generally meant to be pushed aside so their student can complete their growth) steps in at that crucial moment.

What happened to the world Belle-Mere lived in? What happened to a woman’s sense of adventure, her ability to possess a manly spirit? Princess Vivi from Alabasta, the driving force from a much earlier saga, may not have had astounding combat moments, but her battle between her desire to serve her people and her thirst for adventure is a more compelling story than Rebecca’s narrative. Vivi may have chosen civic duty, but she remains an honorary Straw Hat.

Rebecca is a painful step back from Vivi at a time when Oda should be stepping forward. In the past, he had some misguided ideas and exhibited plenty of gender essentialism, but he valued women’s stories and participation. Nami and Robin’s arcs are as fleshed out as any other Straw Hat’s, and their moments of growth are personal and popular highlights of the overall series, used as examples of the quality One Piece can possess.

D: *click* You BIG BOOB LOVER!!! (Ahem, pardon me.) *slam*… *click* *smack* (blown kiss) *slam* P.N. marimo O: Whoa. The girls are rebelling. What are you gonna do about that, guys?! OK, leave it to me! I’ll lay down the law for us all. What the hell are you talking about? I’m a goddamn shonen manga-ka! A MAN’S DREAM!! NEVER ENDS!!! (That was good) (Chapter 381, Page 86)

A female fan complains, and he says that he draws shounen manga: therefore, his representation of women is in line with the genre. “A man’s dream” includes adventure, fights, freedom, and all the core tenets of One Piece that appealed to earlier women writing into the SBS; however, it also includes sexualizing women. As a shonen mangaka, Oda writes for boys and aims to represent what boys (and often men) want. What girls want—representation that shows them as varied and human as male characters—evidently just isn’t as important.

Instead of considering the reasons his female fans don’t like his choices, he considers their opinions irrelevant because they are not his target audience. Any argument of sexism or misogyny can be written away as the annoying or bitter complaints of women whom the story isn’t “for”. The women who get it get to stay, on the condition that they don’t complain.

If you ask why Oda should have to think about representing women, my response is that it’s hypocritical to say that Oda shouldn’t have to moralize, because, at the end of the day, One Piece already has morals. One Piece doesn’t succeed simply because Luffy is funny, Zoro is cool, and Nami is sexy: it has a through-line of humanity that tells its audience time and time again that blood is less important than the family you choose. Oda is perfectly willing to tell anti-authoritarian stories about corrupt police forces and write blatant racism allegories. To excuse sexism in a show that’s willing to address the evils of slavery head-on requires intellectual dishonesty.

Finally, the idea that women are “not his audience” is false when 52% of the readership of One Piece is estimated to be female. If over half of your audience is women, maybe it’s in your best interest not to completely disregard everything they say. At some point in a two-decade-long career, a good writer—which Oda demonstrably is—should be able to look around and see that the themes he thought would only appeal to boys have a wide appeal to everyone. Perhaps, then, it isn’t that “really good women” have a man’s heart. Perhaps men and women all have the same heart. Perhaps we all share the same drive for adventure, freedom, and life on the open seas.

One Piece is a wonderful, mischievous, and masterful show with a lot to say about the human need for friendship and adventure. It’s only gotten more influential with time, and it reaches a larger audience than ever. While far from perfect, twenty years ago Oda demonstrated an awareness that female shounen fans possessed the same desire for heroism and friendship as the boys who read his work, and he was happy to let them tag along on the journey—but only until they pointed out his flaws. When women asked for more, Oda made sure female fans knew One Piece was never for girls in the first place.

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ramalbumclub · 1 month

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20 Years of Almost Killed Me

Let me quickly run through the biography.

Craig Finn, future leader of The Hold Steady, was THAT kid in school - neither the first to be picked for the sports team, nor the last. A bespectacled adolescent navigating the school corridors, aware that there’s an “in-crowd” and he’s on the outs.

He's the kid in-between - like most of us. Like me.

So what's the plan? How does he get from there to here?

Does he settle or does he aspire?

He does neither, he retreats into a world of books and music and becomes an expert in HIS field. He learns how to play guitar, becomes a fan of local Minneapolis bands like The Replacements and Husker Du, and, even though he's still a kid, he goes to see them at the "all ages hardcore matinee shows" in town.

Just a quick aside here but "hardcore matinee shows" sound like the most fun in the world - something to really build a day around. I'd basically vote for any political party that introduced them into the U.K.

But back to the story....

In his early '20s, Finn forms a band called Lifter Puller who are simultaneously pretty good but also not quite right. What works, spectacularly, is Finn's lyrics about drugs and the shady characters that surround them but "the not quite right" bit is the music - a sort of '80s inspired synth overdose that, at its worst, sounds like the soundtrack to a Brian De Palma movie and, at its best, sounds like the soundtrack to a Brian De Palma movie.

After a few albums, a modicum of success, Lifter Puller split up and Finn becomes a financial broker for American Express before moving to New York to get a job at a digital webcasting company. At this stage in Finn's life it would appear that his brief flirtation with a career in music had ended and he was now on a course for a series of jobs in tech and finance. In fact, he doesn't do anything related to music for two whole years. He's just the guy at work, the one who used to be in a band called Lifter Puller.

And then it happens.

Craig Finn is watching Martin Scorsese's The Last Waltz, the film of The Band's final concert, and he turns to his friend Tad Kubler, and says "Dude, why aren't there any bands like this anymore?"

Finn's observation is correct - there are no bands like that and I'm not sure there ever will be. But that's obvious, that's the bit we can all see. Even I've watched The Last Waltz and said to my mate Dan (I don't have a mate called Tad, I wish I did) - "Dude, why aren't there any bands like this anymore?"

No, what I love about this moment is what they did next. Finn and Kubler, there and then, decide to form a band like that. They took the completely mad decision in 2003, when everyone was still floored by that Neutral Milk Hotel album and everything it spawned, of creating a band with just guitar, bass, and drums.

They called themselves The Hold Steady and there wasn't a singing saw, a zanzithophone, or a wandering genie organ in sight.

What started out as an excuse for a bunch of guys in their '30s to hang out, drink, and play the occasional show, then becomes something of a going concern. Finn's lyrics, framed by Kubler's big riffs, created an unlikely breath of fresh air, a sense of celebration. Before long they're signed to Frenchkiss, the best name for a record label ever, and they release their first album - Almost Killed Me.

The album, in fact their career, opens with A Positive Jam, a song which tells the history of 20th Century America in 171 words. In the background, a lazy guitar struggles to wake up as the events are passed like road signs. It's their first song, on their first album, and after 90 seconds there's been a stock market crash, a World War, and 3 Kennedys are dead. The lyrical economy is remarkable, the way he deals with each decade precisely and definitively in one sentence.

This is how he nails the '50s -

"We got shiftless in the '50s, holding hands and going steady, twisting into dark parts of the large Midwestern cities"

No need for the white picket fence trope, no need for Ike or Truman to co-star. Post war America perfectly reduced to "Holding hands and going steady". And then The Twist tells you the ‘60s are coming. I got it straight away.

And this is how he nails the '70s -

"We woke up on bloody carpets, got tangled up in gas lines and I guess that's where it started"

He rhymed "carpets" with "started" and reduced the long term economic and political effects of the 1973 Oil Crisis to a line. What's not to like? I can still vividly remember my first listen now - the time, the place, and an album cover of blacked out faces. It was immediate. I was in.

And I didn't even know then what I know now, that he was providing context - that he was explicitly saying "We have shared history." Because at the end of the song, he brings us up to date, the guitar does wake up and the band kicks in. It's then that he tells us that he was bored so he started a band, it's then that he tells us that he wants to start it off with a positive jam.

The first time I heard Almost Killed Me I rewound the opening song again and again. I guess the "positive jam" that the song was trailing was The Swish, the second song on the album. But I couldn't get to it, I couldn't get past how good the opener was. I listened to it five times on the spin – by the time I was finished 15 Kennedys had died.

But then I did I get past it. I got to The Swish and my head fell off. Honestly, I stood there laughing, air riffing and dancing, in thrall to my new favourite band after just two songs. The bridge from A Positive Jam to The Swish is one of THE moments in music for me. It simultaneously comes out of nowhere yet evokes a memory. I made it through the rest of the album, breathless and giddy.

I'd never heard anything like it, despite having heard things like it.

Does that make sense? That bit really needs to make sense.

You know when The Sopranos came out and you thought "Jesus, not another story about Italian American Gangsters. Surely not THAT again." But then you watched it and saw that the characters were immersed in that culture as much as the viewer. They existed within their own context and couldn't move without referencing it.

And that was the difference. It was derivative but it was spun, from an angle so it wasn't head on.

That's The Hold Steady. That's Almost Killed Me.

It would be easy to say it's my favourite album of the 21st Century if only it didn't have to compete with what they did next - Separation Sunday, Boys and Girls in America and, finally, the hangover, Stay Positive. Finn had done it, with his friends they'd made one of the greatest runs of albums ever - an aggregate score of at least 36 out of 40.

At least.

Yes, there were comparisons to things you'd heard before, a familiarity, but for me it was almost entirely different. People screamed Springsteen, people screamed The E Street Band but I never really knew why. These weren't stories about open roads, about making love to the interstate. These were stories about the claustrophobia of community, about the kids in between - confined by drugs and religion. And you know what? Springsteen never swished through the city centre to do a couple of favours for some guys who looked like Tusken Raiders did he? No he didn't, he was probably driving somewhere.

The Hold Steady wore their influences on their sleeve but they spun them. They humoured them. They said "Tramps like us and we like Tramps" and told stories about people who looked like people - people who looked like Rocco Siffredi, Elisabeth Shue, Izzy Stradlin, Alice Cooper, Mickey Mantle, and, of course, Tusken Raiders. They were doing that thing again - they were saying "We know you know. Because we have shared history"

But this analysis, my attempt at explanation, is nothing compared to the visceral triumph and joy of a Hold Steady show - the pleasure of watching this band that had been plucked from their own lives and were creating anew. I used to spend hours looking at the bass player, I'd never seen anyone work so hard whilst standing still - a man who started the night dry and ended it dripping in sweat and smiles.

And then there was Finn - the inbetweener, the most generous of front men. He was always so warm and inclusive to his audience, so glad that they're there with him. Yet he never forgets the band. Never. And for someone so wordy it's remarkable the gaps he leaves for them - the gaps for them to play and for him to admire. Often he’d be clapping, dancing, and having so much fun in admiration, that I’d worry he’d forget to join in again – that he’d forget that the moment after the gaps were his.

But he never did.

Fast forward to 2014 - to the Holiday Inn, in Brighton, a few hours after a Hold Steady show.

I'd probably had my back to him for about 10 minutes, having a night cap at the hotel bar and thinking about what had come before. But then I turned around and there he was - Craig Finn, sitting alone, a hero rather than a star. I decided to say hello and he gestured for me to sit down. We talked about The Last Waltz. I asked him if it was true, whether that's really how it started, and he said it was. We talked about the rest of the film, all those conversations, you know where they go - Joni Mitchell and all her chords; Van Morrison and that ridiculous high kick. And somewhere in the drink and The Last Waltz I lost the memory of the night, other than to say he was good company and he paid his way.

And if I met him now?

If I met him now, I'd probably get lost down another rabbit hole - about how we're the same age and how I wasn't picked first for the sports team either. I'd ask him how he feels now, at 44, about the start he gave himself at 33 - whether that still surprises him, whether it ever did. Whether he knows, REALLY knows, that for about four years The Hold Steady were the best band in the world. But more than that I'd tell him about how HE influenced, how HE inspired, about how Ruth and I always used to say this album club was about spinning familiar stories, about telling them from an angle rather than head on - just like The Hold Steady.

Because that's what we used to say. When we wanted to avoid nostalgia and reheating the past , we used to say it should be "JUST LIKE THE HOLD STEADY".

And before I lost another evening, and its fluid memory, I'd like to take the opportunity to thank him for that.

Martin Fitzgerald (2014)

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beardedmrbean · 2 months

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Oh yes the white man burden or Woke man burden these days…please ignore the pre colonial Filipino (okay there probably a different term they used) kingdoms. Or the fact they used to terrorized China trade ships

But even their weapons implied they were sophisticated enough to created many detail weapons prior to Spain invasion. I also learn that the Disney Princess Raya sword is based off the Kris

Also about Africa, this post remind me of something

https://www.tumblr.com/ainomica/625234307004432384

Also if you guys want to do pre colonial Africa

Where the kingdoms, the empires, the large scale conflicts. Just like the Americas, Europe, and Asia. Africans were in various stages of technological development

But one simple Google search revealed Yoruba, you know the ones who make up 64% of my African genome

Side note I know it FAR more complicated as the research just Yoruba as the basics and it probably more complex. Like say…using the Italian tribes but you probably just going to say “Roman” for most Italian descent

But they made fortresses, building kingdoms and empires. Yet African Americans want to do our ancestors just wore the most basic drabs and only hunted prior to European colonization

Also the thing they were no black Christians pre Europe…where Christianity started? Oh yeah the MIDDLE EAST. Also is Ethiopia mention in the Bible or another African country thus considered one of the oldest Christians groups in history?

But I think a lot of Africans issues that Americans (ESPECIALLY my community) still have fetishized view of Africa like it the goddamn 60’s. I want break it, but given the people who push this idea call me coon…a long long road

Spain had the Philippines as a colony for 300+ years if they were going to be "civilized ™" Spain probably would have managed it by then, then again Latin America has lagged behind the US and Canada on the HDI so maybe on that front Spain and Portugal had the wrong priorities when they decided to start out with getting everyone baptized and stripping resources instead of stripping resources and setting up infrastructure.

UK had the advantage of not having to answer to the Pope on that end, but the pearly gates will show which one had the right idea I guess.

Colony wise things didn't go as well in Eastern Asia for those two, Netherlands on the other hand did great, but that's me rambling now.

As for Rya and the Dragon, Disney managed to do a pretty good job with that one

As for the Beyonce thing well, most everything I've seen from her that's "Africa" is pretty generic, she's even skipping out on Africa this time round for her "world tour"

26 stadiums on the continent with a capacity of 60,000 or more. Bulk of them are for their football clubs lol, those should be good enough. Those all look to be in relatively stable areas too.

Map is similar to one that was floating around Red had posted, linguistic map so ya It's gonna be like that because those guys all killed each other too, look at the Franks before France was fully united, "Germanic" tribes in Europe too

I'll have to look into those guys though, see what's going on with them, seems fascinating.

Link here: I imagine the discussion was much longer and more involved than this passage lets on, but ya. (also that strip of land has been called gaza forever, one place in the area that Israel even historically has never run)

Ethiopia also claims to have the Ark of the Covenant, they've never actually pinpointed where Sheba is but most consider it Ethiopia, but in Africa the only community that's gonna be older is the Egyptians, Coptics, St Mark was their first "Pope" which much like the Roman Catholics and Latin the Copts managed to keep the old language alive which helped immeasurably when it came to translating things. (was looking into the decline of their old religion, by the time Islam came round Christianity had done most of the heavy lifting on ending that one)

Damn Right, and I'm not just talkin about Shaft.

Pan Africa stuff made it easier to advertise to people, don't have to look and make sure something is appropriately Kenyan and what not.

Get a wider audience for movies that way, sadly it's resulted in what we've got going on now and hopefully the internet will get people learning more specifics now.

#zoomer huey anon

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ficklecat · 7 months

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My OCs, aka Axel’s Brainpals

I have many hyperfixations, my friends. Some of them I even create myself, as a treat, that way there is truly no escape nor end to my suffering 😌

These three are OCs of mine that are very dear to my heart, who I have crafted lovingly and who are currently running amok in my google docs. I’ve dubbed them/their story “Epiphytes” for now. They are set in modern day (2010s) and are continuously evolving to become more unique and fleshed out as I write them. I hope you enjoy learning about them and please feel free to send me any questions if you’re interested in knowing more!!

Phineas “Finn” Morgan

Age: 25

Sexuality: Bisexual

Gender: Cisgender male

Birthday: February 25 (Pisces)

Appearance: about 5’ 10”, but looks taller due to his long limbs, swimmer’s build, white hair/skin and violet-red eyes due to albinism, androgynous features especially in face and hands, doesn’t wear glasses often but has them (prefers contacts), very poor vision, loppish wavy hair that can often be unruly/windswept looking

Personality: subdued but friendly, a little socially awkward at times but often endearing, tendency for skittishness which he can overcompensate for by being overly sincere, fiercely loyal and protective, a little codependent, fretful nature but is earnest in his attempt to trust people and remain calm, anxiety/PTSD which manifests in periodic insomnia that makes him forgetful/emotional, intelligent and bookish but worldly as well with a slight propensity for coming off as just a tiny bit pretentious, creative and romantic, “soul of a poet” kind of guy

Family: Patrick Alexander Morgan, father (deceased); Heather Morgan, mother (deceased); Kenton “Kenny” Daniels, foster brother

Occupation: teaching assistant, graduate student of classic & romantic literature

Fun facts: plays piano and can sing well but doesn’t, dislikes sweets but loves marshmallows/s’mores, functionally bilingual in Spanish and English, has 4 dogs all named after dogs from famous literature, favourite comfort show is We Bare Bears, favourite food is a BLT on sourdough bread, tea over coffee, loves romcoms and thunderstorms, favourite music is 80s rock/pop but will scream-sing Lana Del Rey and Hozier

Emmanuel José Domingo Alvarez (Manny Domingo)

Age: 25

Sexuality: Gay/Demi

Gender: Cisgender male

Birthday: June 30 (Cancer)

Appearance: athletic build, bulky and toned, around 5’ 8”, brown skin and eyes (Guatemalan), curly black hair which he keeps relatively short along with short facial hair (scruff), strong jawline and nose, large mouth and “smiling” eyes, sort of “hunky/dreamy” looking

Personality: extremely sweet and loving, happy-go-lucky, very emotionally insightful and empathetic, can be over protective and over enthusiastic at times, optimistic but not unrealistic, though sometimes can fall prey to toxic positivity (doesn’t like to dwell on negative emotion which can make him bottle things up), often assumes the role of mediator or peace keeper but does it more out of love than fear of conflict, animal lover, seems like the “dumb jock” but is very thoughtful, strong sense of equality, teacher’s pet vibes but genuinely because he likes school, charismatic and respectful, “will try anything once” kind of guy

Family: Santiago “Diego” Domingo, father; Mariana Alvarez, mother; 1 younger brother he doesn’t know

Occupation: physical trainer, graduate student of physical therapy

Fun facts: excellent dancer, sweet tooth/snacky in general, bilingual in Spanish and English, can get competitive especially during sports, loves board games for this reason, favourite comfort show is whatever anime he’s currently binging, black coffee, favourite food is anything his dad makes or Pad Thai, also loves romcoms, favourite music is 80s hits and 90s alt punk (big fan of Sublime and Green Day)

Violet Roberta Hughes

Age: 21

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Gender: Cisgender female

Birthday: November 2 (Scorpio)

Appearance: short (5 feet), very soft features all around, midsize/curvy, green eyes and LOTS of dark black-brown hair that is wavy/loosely curly naturally, “luscious” lips and demure/angelic facial features, doe-like eyes, higher cheekbones

Personality: dynamic and magnetic, she says what she means, but has a tendency to fall in love fast and then get hurt hard after, wants people to be better than they are, passionate and outspoken, sometimes too forgiving of people especially if she loves them, perfectionist at times with things she feels are important, takes herself seriously but doesn’t let it prevent her from finding joy in small things, determined when trying new things, open-minded and affectionate, a little dorky when she’s comfortable

Family: Nadine Hughes, mother; Robert Hughes, father; Patricia “Trisha” Long, step-mother

Occupation: undergraduate student, biology

Fun facts: LOVES dogs, enjoys arts and crafts and homemade gifts, really good cook but a better baker, went through a “goth phase” in high school but still loves the aesthetic, loves horror movies, favourite comfort show is American Horror Story (season one) or Breaking Bad, loves flavoured lattes and is definitely a Starbucks girly, favourite food is sushi/poke, favourite music is 00s alternative (FOB/Panic), also likes Mitski, Mother Mother, and modern folk/indie

Relationship

Finn & Manny grew up together and had an established, borderline codependent relationship before Violet was introduced. After many years and various iterations of their friendship and love, Finn & Manny decided on an open relationship, and about 2 years later, Finn met and fell very hard in love with Violet. At first, Violet was worried about engaging in non monogamy but now self-identifies as polyamorous. The three of them are essentially a “throuple” with no primary partnership. They each have a different type of bond with the other but overall they’re SO very much in love with each other. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

I could scream more about them but I’ll chill for now 😜 Thanks for letting me blabber about these three I love them they are tiny babies I carry them in my pocket every day.

#seriously please feel free to ask me about them I will cry #oc content #OCs #axel’s brainpals #ax says stuff n things

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eternalchaoschocolaterain · 3 months

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I'm going to do something new for me and post my story here too. See how it goes.

For those who play beyond, this takes place between the last time MC sees Merula in seventh year and the first time they see her again in beyond.

Chapter two I'd hire me

Chapter three: No cure for me

The Most Powerful Waitress

Summary: Merula is convinced that now that she has left Hogwarts she gets to make herself into the legend she deserves to be, but life after Hogwarts is not as easy as she thinks.

Fair warning that Quinn is very soppy, especially this chapter.

01. School's out

No more Hogwarts, fucking finally! Merula looked out the window of the Hogwarts Express and breathed a sigh of relief when it left Hogsmeade station.

Those seven years had been challenging to say the least. Even though she was the Most Powerful Witch and could obviously handle anything, she was more than glad to put an end to this chapter of her life.

No more R, dangerous family members, deadly teachers, useless headmasters and best of all: no more secrets and lies. After a much-needed break she would show the wizarding world how fucking powerful she really was. No one would ever dare to mess with her again. She’d get to create her own life, make her own name.

‘I am never coming back here.’

Merula looked away from the window to Ismelda. Ismelda leaned against Ben Copper, her boyfriend of four months; a large white, blonde guy. On her other side sat Beatrice, an even blonder and whiter fourteen-year-old girl who had been following Ismelda around like a cruppy for the past two years. They shared a compartment for six and the three of them occupied the seats across from Merula. Her trunk occupied the seats next to her.

Beatrice made a face at Ismelda’s words. ‘I’m so jealous. I wish I could leave this wretched school. I can’t believe my parents are still forcing me back here after all that happened. I’ll forever be the girl who got stuck in a portrait.’

Not this conversation again. Merula stifled a groan, rummaged through her trunk until she found one of the books she was currently reading and lost herself in it.

‘Ben there you are!’ A high pitch voice sounded out and Merula didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to: Beatrice’s older sister, Penny Haywood. Much to Merula’s displeasure Haywood moved her trunk so she could sit on her side, though she did sit at the opposite end. Her eyes were red-rimmed as if she’d been crying, which she probably had. Haywood had been crying a lot the past days.

‘I’ve been looking all over the train for you. I still can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.’

‘Don’t worry, I would’ve come over to say goodbye.’ Copper reassured her.

‘It feels like everyone is leaving,’ Haywood sighed. ‘You to America, Charlie to Romania, Diego and Orion will be traveling and Quinn’s going on a retreat. Everything’s changing so fast. It feels like we were first-years yesterday and now we have to start looking for jobs.’ She paused and looked at Merula. ‘You know, I still don’t know what you’re going to do. I asked Quinn but she didn’t know either.’

‘Why would Lee know what I would be doing?’

‘Because you’re dating? I mean you’ve been together at every ball since fourth year.’

Merula’s face flushed and she gritted her teeth. ‘So? We like to dance together, that doesn’t mean shit.’

Haywood pursed her lips and the others shared looks of annoyed disbelief. Merula bit back a snide remark. Whatever she and Quinn did was no one’s business.

‘Alright, so what are you going to do?’

Since Haywood didn’t press, Merula let up a bit and smirked. ‘I don’t know yet. I have a lot of options, everyone wants the Most Powerful Witch to work for them.’

‘Really? That’s great! Is curse-breaking one of them?’

‘Fuck no, I’ve been curse-breaking for seven years, I’ve seen enough.’

‘I understand.’ Haywood gave her a sympathetic look, which made Merula want to push her off her seat. ‘What about you Ismelda?’

‘None of your business, Haywood.’ Ismelda rolled her eyes, though only one was visible behind her black hair.

‘Oh, right.’ Haywood rubbed her hands on her legs. An awkward silence fell over the compartment.

‘How about we go to the others?’ Copper suggested. When Haywood nodded, he got up and looked at Ismelda. ‘See you later.’

‘Yes, later.’ Ismelda’s lips curved a bit when she looked at him.

Beatrice looked at Ismelda and Merula. Ismelda gave her a shrug and Merula raised an eyebrow at her. Couldn’t the child think for herself? Luckily, she got up and trailed after Haywood and Copper.

Merula turned her attention back to her book, but she had barely started a sentence when Ismelda made her look up again.

‘I thought you were done with lying?’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘You and Lee. Everyone knows you’re dating.’

That again. She snapped her book shut. ‘What’s it to you what Lee and I are or aren’t doing together? At least I’m not running off to America with her after only four months of dating!’

‘Four and a half! And I’m not following him.’ Ismelda hissed. ‘But you’re right, I should just let you simmer in whatever mess you created.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?!’

‘Your girlfriend has some serious issues. If she had half a braincell she would’ve dumped you with all the lying. By Morgana, you even kidnapped her!’

‘Only because I had to. She wouldn’t stop prying. I told her not to. I tried to protect her, but she never listens!’ Merula sighed. ‘I wanted to sort things out, make them right before it got worse.’

‘I know.’ Ismelda’s face softened a bit.

A silence fell between them and Merula fidgeted with her book. Her mind raced. Sure she and Quinn had some issues, but that made sense right? With Quinn’s desperate need to find her brother in the Cursed Vaults Merula’s need to find power in those same vaults. Add on R and their need to get into the vaults… Yeah, nothing about their time at Hogwarts had been normal.

And, well, part of it was her fault, she should’ve never let her aunt manipulate her into joining R. She hurt her friends, kidnapped Quinn and lied to everyone. At the time she thought working with her aunt would make things better, would enable her to protect herself and others. She had never been more wrong. All her aunt wanted was to use her and when she realised this, she stood up against her. With her help her aunt was captured and would now spend the rest of her life in Azkaban. That had to count for something, right?

‘I lied to you too and got you in the hospital wing. What does that say about us?’

‘That both of us have issues, but I’m not denying it.’ Ismelda smirked. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t either.’

Merula let out what she hoped sounded like a chuckle, but felt more like a bitter laugh. Thankfully Ismelda changed the subject by showing her a book Copper had given her before getting on the train: A comprehensive guide to the rarest museum artefacts in the United States.

They got interrupted when the Trolley Witch came by to offer them some sweets. Merula got herself a cauldron cake and had half a mind to get an acid pop, except Ismelda knew she didn’t like them and who did. Since she knew getting one would get her into a discussion again, she didn’t. She could get Quinn all the acid pops she wanted later. Later, when she’d made her own name. When people wouldn’t think about kidnappings, or R when they looked at her. When people realised she wasn’t such a bad person after all. Later, when everything was better. Because it would be. Everything would be so much better now.

After the Trolley Witch left she and Ismelda talked about future plans until Beatrice returned and the three of them played a few games of Exploding Snap. When the train finally arrived in London, they waited for others to get off first. Neither of them liked crowds. Beatrice’s expression turned sour when she watched their schoolmates walk together on the platform. Merula felt a wave of compassion when she looked at her. The poor girl had been through a lot and couldn’t connect to her peers because of it. She nudged her with her foot.

‘Owl me whenever you get sick of those numbskulls. We can meet up in Hogsmeade if you like.’

Beatrice’s face brightened and she nodded.

The three of them got out when the platform was empty again and made their way to the front gate, where the guard regulated the exists. Haywood stood near the guard, talking to a tall redhead who Merula pointedly didn’t look at, and waved at Beatrice. Her eyes were redder and puffier than before. Beatrice looked at Merula and Ismelda and said a quick goodbye. She made a move to leave, but Ismelda caught her in a hug and whispered something. Beatrice smiled when she let go.

Merula looked at Ismelda in surprise. Her expression was as stone-faced as ever, but her eyes were a tad shinier than usual. ‘You’re really going to miss her.’

‘Maybe a little.’ Ismelda shrugged. ‘Anyway, I’ll owl you when I’ve settled a bit.’

‘I’ll come visit when I can.’

‘Good.’

A crack sounded over the platform when Ismelda disapparated and Merula’s stomach squeezed. Ismelda was the only person who had stood by her from the start and now she would be in the US for the foreseeable future. She took a deep breath, she would be fine. She’d get a job, be recognized for her powers and all would be well.

‘A longsleeve and a leather jacket? You must be freezing in this sunny weather!’

Her stomach did a whole other squeeze when she recognized the lively voice. With a quick spin she faced Quinn, who wore a yellow cropped top and red shorts. Her curls fell over her shoulders from a high ponytail. So, maybe Merula did dress a little warm for the weather, but she liked being warm. Quinn held out her arm with a grin.

‘Ready for the retreat?’

Instead of hooking their arms together, Merula had a look around the platform. When she confirmed they were the only ones left, she wrapped her arms around Quinn and rested her head against her collarbone. Quinn’s familiar foresty smell, with hints of juniper and pine, comforted Merula. Without a word Quinn returned the hug. They stood in silence for a good few moments before Merula unwrapped one arm to get her trunk.

‘Now I’m ready.’

After Quinn got her trunk, Merula apparated both of them away.

Her feet were barely on the ground when Quinn scooped her up and carried her towards the front door. Merula yelped, which made Quinn laugh. The sound sent a flutter through her and she pressed closer against Quinn, looking over her shoulder to make sure the trunks followed them. Quinn carried her all the way through the living room into the large overgrown back garden. She gently lowered Merula into the grass and laid down beside her. Her breath tingled against Merula’s lips when she spoke.

‘I’m so glad we’re finally on summer break. Just you and me for the next four weeks.’

‘Unless I get tired of you before that.’

‘Of course,’ Quinn chuckled. ‘I’m just really glad to leave Hogwarts behind. Now that everything’s over we can finally lead some normal lives.’

‘It better not be boring though.’

‘Life with you could never be boring.’

Her jaw clenched. No, boring wasn’t a word anyone would use for their time together.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Rula…’

The simple word held a plea, but sounded almost disappointed as well. Fuck. ‘Ismelda says you’re only with me because you’ve got serious issues.’

‘Oh.’ Quinn furrowed her brow. ‘Andre said something like that too, about me having issues.’

She fell silent and Merula plucked at the grass between them, fighting the urge to apologize again. If Quinn didn’t still have that faraway thinking look of hers, she would’ve. She kept plucking at the grass until Quinn finally spoke again.

‘I suppose I understand. One has to be mad to want someone who lied so much. And you did kind of kidnap me. Sort of. Thing is, you make me happy. Really happy. Our dates were one of the few things I could look forward too, especially after Rowan died. You’re so sweet and caring and you’re the best at planning dates. You challenge me. You never act like I’m some hero, but you still make me feel special and loved. So I don’t care if I’m mad for staying with you. I love you and I don’t want to lose you too. I’ve lost enough already.’

A mixture of emotions overwhelmed Merula, constricted her throat and she scooted closer to bury her head in Quinn’s neck. Quinn wrapped an arm around her and stroked her back.

Quinn obviously ignored the bad parts, but she didn’t blame her. Their dates had been an escape for her too. Whenever it was the two of them, they just laughed, teased each other, made out, talked about quidditch, school work or music. Anything but the Vaults, or R.

When she looked up, Quinn had this sweet loving smile on her face. A warm feeling spread through her, pushing everything else aside. It didn’t matter why Quinn kept dating her, she never wanted this to end.

Her voice sounded hoarse from emotion. ‘I don’t want to lose you either. I care so much about you.’

She took a deep breath. ‘What do you think is going to happen to us now that we have to pretend to be normal adults?’

‘I say we’ll get married and have eight kids.’

By Morgana, she looked serious too. Well, if Merula needed any more confirmation that her girlfriend was mad, this would certainly count. ‘Eight kids?! You better carry them because I won’t.’

‘So you agree?’ Quinn’s green eyes crinkled behind her glasses.

Despite herself Merula couldn’t help but smile back. ‘No!’

She pushed her shoulder, but Quinn was quick to grab her wrists and get on top of her. She tickled her until Merula had tears in her eyes from laughing. Only after Merula issued some proper threats did Quinn stop and ended it with a kiss. She tasted like acid pops.

When they let go to catch their breath, Merula felt light and giggly. Everything would be so much better now.

#hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery fanfic #merula snyde #quinn lee #merula x mc #merula x quinn #quirula #the most powerful waitress

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ultraericthered · 3 months

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Anime Update V3 3

Vinland Saga S2 - Arnheid went to see her husband in captivity. Wrong move. Gardar used her presence there to lure one of the guards to them and then bite out the guy's throat. No shitting, this was probably the most graphic thing I've seen depicted on this show! He convinces Arnheid to cut the ropes binding him so he can kill all the other guards and make his escape. Back at the farm, a talk between Thorfinn and Einar further establishes Thorfinn's desire to never kill or resort to violence in any conflict ever again, and to find some way of sufficiently and significantly atoning for every life he took, like creating a place where "no one needs a sword." Einar sas that such a place must be beyond man's reach, prompting Thorfinn to finally remember it: Vinland. He needs to go find Vinland!

Hunter x Hunter - After Killua ends up not only sparing Ikalgo but saving him, telling him he's cool and that they might've been friends under better conditions, he goes ahead and becomes the target of two aquatic Chimera Ant siblings (with one of them voiced by LittleKuriboh) as they throw fish darts at a special board that project the darts to skewer different parts of Killua's body, and it really seemed like Killua was a goner for a while, even after he turned the tables and decapitated the twins (which they're still alive after, don't worry!), he's at risk of dying until, wouldn't you know it, Ikalgo comes along to save his life! Some good deeds do get rewarded! The other episode I watched focused largely on Gon's sketchy alliance with Meleoron, who claims he wants to kill Meruem for having killed his father figure, and we see Meruem's off playing games with humanity. And I mean literally, he is challenging humans to different human games after learning the rules in record time, beating them, and killing them. And now he's to play Gungi...against a blind girl??? And the current ED credits suggests this goes somewhere pretty big.

SHUFFLE! - Summer is apparently fast approaching in this anime's world, which seems so foreign to me when we're currently in the midst of a cold winter season. The students all study for their final exams and undertake them, with Sia getting some help from Rin. There's also talk of rainy days and memories of when Sia met Rin.

Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works - The grand finale looms ahead, so you know what that means - the Rin/Shirou sex episode!

KonoSuba - This episode just kept changing gears on me, setting itself up to be about Darkness wanting to join Kazuma's party but Kazuma being resistant to her because he can see how masochistic she is and doesn't want another weird girl to put up with, then it centers on Kazuma learning the "Steal" ability from this white haired Yuffie Kisaragi-esque thief girl (and Kazuma can compulsively only swipe panties off from girls because of course he would), and then out of fucking nowhere, flying cabbages start migrating towards the civilization and all warriors are called to fight them so that they can be eaten, complete with casual and silly exposition on this little harvest season from Aqua, and Darkness shielding other knights from the cabbages' blows because she loves getting hit repeatedly. So Kazuma ends up accepting Darkness for a harvest job well done.

Symphogear XV - Episode 2 again does this thing where we're at one point in time but then flash back to what happened to lead up to it, only this time the past timeframe was last episode's present, where at least we're treated to some peak Kirika/Shirabe goodness, and they even manage to get the better of one of their new adversaries. S.O.N.G has taken in the mysterious Annunaki mummy they found in Antarctica, and Fudou is very displeased with his son and his workers as of late. Then Tsubasa and Maria do a joint concert that, as I'd expected, gets attacked by another new enemy and geezus, this psychotic freak actually managed to put Carol to shame in the heinous department, creating several casualties and even butchering an innocent child right in front of Tsubasa. She escapes justice for this and Tsubasa feels like a failure, as though she just lost Kanade all over again. Times are certainly getting bleak!

Eureka Seven - While Holland continues to grapple with his self loathing and how horribly abusive and irresponsible he'd been with Renton, the moment of dread comes when Renton opening up to his new dad Charles and outing himself as Adroc Thurston's child gets Charles to start prying more about the Nirvash and how things were like with Gekko State, and luring Renton right into a military sky assault where he comes clean about him and Ray being mercenaries for the Federation out to destroy Gekko State, and Renton's absolute devastation is itself devastating to watch. He seemed so close to a healthy home environment and a real family he could live peacefully with only to have the illusion broken, which conveys to him that no matter where he goes, warfare and his prior involvement in it will always follow him. Hence the episode's title being "Paradise Lost." Ray and Charles, to their credit, still love Renton like their own child and give him the choice whether or not to leave them. And he does.

Gintama - None this week.

#Anime Update V3 #Anime Update

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snarkysarcasm · 2 years

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Credit to the anon who sent this to me years ago… Holly is part-time writer with writer's block. She moves house, and the antics of her new, mischievous neighbours (Gail and any combination of the rookies) inspires her to write again. The book inevitably becomes a bestseller. Gail and her roommates show up at a signing. Gail hasn't read the book but her roommates love it and really see themselves in it.

It had been Rachel’s idea really. A change of scenery was supposed to cure her writer’s block. So when a cabin on the lake became available she “just had to take it.” It was fate or whatever. Except Holly still hadn’t written a word and had been living there for a month already.

“I know Lucy, this isn’t working.”

The white cat rubbed against her legs as Holly closed her laptop and let out a frustrated sigh. Another day wasted. She pushed her glasses to the top of her head and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. She already had the start of a headache creeping in.

“How about a little fresh air, Luc?”

The isolation was supposed to be refreshing. A change of pace from the overcrowded city life of Toronto, but without Lucy, Holly was pretty sure she would’ve lost her mind.

“At least the view is nice”, she had to admit, as she watched the sun start to set over the lake. She loved the wraparound porch and the rustic feel of the old cabin. She also loved the simplicity. But the scenery had not been enough to inspire her. She needed something else…

Holly was startled out of her moping by the slamming of car doors.

“Last one in has to sleep on the floor!” A pixie-sized redhead shouted as she sprinted out of a jeep and headed straight towards the lake, shedding clothing as she ran.

Holly was surprised as a rather large group of guys and girls piled out of the jeep and another truck, dropping luggage and racing towards the water. All except for one blonde woman who seemed to be in no hurry at all as she strutted (yes, strutted) to the shoreline.

Holly couldn’t take her eyes off of her, the woman looked like she had stepped straight off a movie screen. Her hair platinum blonde, her skin pale, and even from the distance Holly could see the deep red stain of lipstick on her lips all seemed too perfect to have been human.

“Gail, you’re last!”

“It’s my cabin. You all are lucky I even invited you up here.”

“You’re still last.”

“And I have a bedroom that belongs to me. You can sleep on the floor or in the car for all I care, or hitchhike back to the city.”

The redhead tried to splash her, but she was quicker than expected, considering the lack of running.

“Do that again and I will end you, you Disney princess.”

Holly laughed from her porch as she watched one of the taller guys try to sneak behind the blonde to toss her into the lake only to get flipped into the water himself.

“That’s what you get, Diaz. Anyone else feeling stupid?”

The challenge seemed to be accepted by the entire group as they ganged up on the blonde. She wasn’t able to fend them all off and ended up in the water with the whole lot. She pulled herself out and the way she stomped on the dock reminded Holly of Lucy getting wet.

Holly opened up her laptop and started typing.

---

Holly was surprised when she walked out to find an entire obstacle course created. She wasn’t sure where all of it came from but each team certainly had a fair share of hiding places.

She pushed her laptop to the side and watched as the two teams attacked each other with paintballs. They seemed to take it very seriously and tactically. She couldn’t exactly tell who was who but she thought she saw a flash of a blonde ponytail heading towards a large tower in the center. She was right and Holly couldn’t help but smile at the proud way the blonde held the stuffed camel over her head and let out a victory yell.

She could hear the group bickering about whether the toy was a camel or a giraffe. Holly sided with Gail’s impassioned declaration that the animal was a giraffe despite the evidence otherwise.

She pulled her laptop back to herself. Maybe there was something here.

—

“Dov!! Did you eat my cheesepuffs?”

“No,” Came the muffled reply and then heavy footsteps and slamming doors.

“You better run!”

Holly watched the blonde show an impressive agility as she chased the skinny man out to the dock. She was clearly on a seek and destroy mission.

Lucy hopped up onto the rail but Holly couldn’t take her eyes off of her neighbors, well one neighbor in particular.

“I know, Lucy, I wouldn’t mess with her cheesepuffs either.”

Holly hunched over her computer, the words seemed to be filling the pages in no time at all whenever her blonde muse was around. But who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth? If inspiration wanted to strike when a gorgeous woman moved into the lake house near her with a group of hooligans, then she had to take advantage of it.

And if inspiration happened to spend a lot of time in a bikini, well she wasn’t one to judge.

—

“Lucy? Luc? Where are you, troublemaker?”

Holly had already searched the small cabin three times, she had left out treats, tried tuna, and everything else she could think of. But Lucy hadn’t shown up for breakfast and Holly was starting to worry when she heard a knock on her door.

She was stunned when her disgruntled muse was holding her even more digruntled feline.

“Is this demon cat yours?”

“Lucy! Oh thank god, where did you find her?”

“In my bed.”

“What? How?” Holly couldn’t help being a little jealous of her own cat who was wrapping herself around Holly’s legs now that she was home.

“I was wondering the same thing.”

“I’m so so sorry, She usually doesn’t wonder that far from the porch. How did you know she was mine?”

“I thought I had seen her out here with you. You’re new here.”

“I am. Holly, Holly Stewart.”

“Gail.”

Holly waited for the usual follow-up question about what brought her to the lake. But the question never came. Instead the blonde sized her up and Holly felt a little warm under the scrutiny. She wished she had brushed her hair and put on a better bra if she had known she’d be getting such a gorgeous visitor.

“So Holly Stewart…are you a jock by any chance?”

She laughed, mostly at how random the question was.

“What gave it away?”

“You’re wearing a Jays hat.”

“Oh, yeah, umm…”

“There’s also the flannel and the backpacks.”

“Are you implying something?”

“Me? No. But your wardrobe…”

Holly both hated and loved the smirk on the other woman’s face.

“Well I wouldn’t borrow anything from your wardrobe?”

“What’s wrong with my wardrobe?”

“Nothing, just not my style. Why are you looking for a jock?”

“The idiots I’m letting visit me are determined to play a game of softball and we need another player.”

“Another player? How many of you are there?”

“Okay, truth is I’m looking for someone to take my place.”

“You don’t play?”

“I don’t really do sports.”

“But you like to win.” Holly remembered vividly the joy when the blonde won the giraffe, er camel.

“I do like to win but I also don’t like to embarrass myself.”

“I could help, you know, at least enough to not embarrass yourself.”

Seeming to weigh out her options, blue eyes gave Holly another once over.

“Meet me at the dock at noon.”

“It’s a date.” Holly internally cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. And even Lucy gave her a pathetic look.

“You’re going to have to do better than batting practice for a date. See you later Holly Stewart. Bye Lucifer.”

Holly hate to say goodbye but damn did she love to watch her go.

“Well Luc I want to be mad at you for scaring me but you are also my hero. So extra treats tonight.”

“Meow.”

—-

Batting practice didn’t quite go as expected as the bat went flying and Gail let out the girliest shriek that Holly had ever heard as soon as she took her first swing.

“I told you, I don’t do sports!” Gail shouted as she started to storm away.

Holly tried to hold in her giggles as she went after the infuriated woman.

“Hey, Gail, come back.”

“No.”

“Wait.”

“No, I told you I was going to embarrass myself.”

“It wasn’t that embarrassing.” Holly found herself on the receiving end of an infamously icy glare. “Okay it was…” the blonde started to stomp away again but Holly caught her by the arm. “Come on, something new won’t kill you. It almost killed me but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.I promised to teach you. Let me. Please? I’m a woman of my word.”

“Fine, but if you can’t, then you’re playing instead of me.”

“Deal.”

Gail begrudgingly picked up the bat and headed back to the spot where they were practicing.

“First, we need to fix your stance. May I?”

As Holly assumed a position behind Gail, the blonde quipped, “No wonder you volunteered to teach me.”

“I’m a hands-on kind of coach.” But yes, in Holly’s gayest fantasies she imagined just this scenario. She may have even written about it in chapter 7 of her book.

“Okay so you want to square your hips so you have a good center of gravity.” Holly gently put her hands on the blondes waist and used her feet to spread her legs a bit more. “You want to have a little bend and carry your weight on your back foot as you turn.”

She helped Gail through a couple of swings before she reluctantly let go of her protege. She was already missing the warmth of her body but she had a game to teach and a ball to throw

“Choke up a little on the bat, and most importantly…Don’t let go.”

“Very funny.”

It took a few pitches, but Gail held onto the bat, and despite her protests took Holly’s advice. On the fourth pitch she finally connected and sent it sailing over Holly’s head.

“Oh my god, I did it. Did you see that? I hit a home run!”

“Probably would’ve been a double.” Another icy glare went her way and Holly changed her tune. “Definitely a home run!”

Holly had a perfect view of the game from her porch. She watched as Gail’s friends heckled her at the plate.

The thin, asthmatic looking cheesepuff thief she had heard them call Dov, seemed to be the most ruthless in mocking Gail.

He was also the one whose jaw nearly hit the ground when at her first time at the plate Gail sent a linedrive well past their outfield.

Holly smiled to herself when Gail rounded the bases and then looked over to where she was sitting and tipped her hat in her direction. She could see that wolfish smile even from the distance and felt her nerdy heart skip a beat.

—

Holly and Lucy returned from their trek to the nearest market to find a blonde visitor waiting on their porch.

“I was starting to wonder if you ever left this spot.”

“Lucy here was precariously low on catfood.”

“I thought the devil fed off of virgin sacrifices?”

“And tuna.” Holly shook the bag in her hand and Lucy perked up at the mention of her favorite can. “What brings you to my side of the lake?”

“Celebratory drinks.” Gail held up a bottle of tequila. “Please tell me you have a blender.”

“I have a blender and I think I still have ice.”

“My hero.”

They headed inside and Holly set about putting away her groceries and retrieving the requested blender.

“Did you enjoy doing sports today?”

“Enjoy is a strong word.” Gail argued as she unceremoniously began snooping through Holly’s living space.

“An analysis of an autopsy. Do you really read this stuff?”

“I wrote that stuff.”

Gail simply nodded and went to the kitchen to make the margaritas. Despite Holly offering her glasses, Gail brought the blender out to the porch with them.

Gail pulled the other chair across the porch to sit closer and they enjoyed their drinks while watching the sun set over the lake.

After all the time Holly had watched the blonde’s shenanigans with her friends, she was a little surprised at how pensive she could be.

“I’m like a cat, Holly.”

“Is that why you pick fights with Lucy?”

Gail ignored her and continued, “I'm very good at climbing trees and then the minute that I get up there I don't-I have no idea what to do. I want to get down but I don't know how to do that, so I create an emergency situation to get out of it."

"Out of the tree?"

"Of relationships."

“Ah. I used to be like that too. Turns out I didn’t like men.”

“I don’t Ike them either.”

“I mean I’m a lesbian.”

“I mean I hate people.”

“You also hate cats.”

“Your cat hates me.”

“You call her Lucifer.”

“If the name fits…”

Lucy looked over from where she had been cleaning herself to give Gail a dirty look before resuming her bath.

“If you hate people so much, why did you come over here, Gail?”

Holly wasn’t entirely sure what emboldened her to ask. Maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was being out of her comfort zone. Maybe it was just her natural curiosity. Or her hopeful gay heart speaking before her mind could catch up.

“What’re you doing tomorrow night?”

Other than trying to finish the book that her editor was getting anxious for, now that Holly had sent her the first few chapters, “Not much why?”

“We’re heading back to the city Sunday morning and the heathens are very set on having a bonfire before we go. Do you want to come? You can be my plus one.”

—-

It would’ve been impossible to miss even if Holly hadn’t been invited to the giant fire they had created next to the lake. But this group never seemed to be satisfied with anything less than pure chaos.

She tried to brush off the nervousness she felt. She wasn’t that gawky teenager going to a party with her first crush. She was a grown ass woman who had many (well at least multiple) relationships with other women and this wasn’t a date anyway. It was just hanging out with Gail and her friends next to a rather large fire. But as soon as she saw the blonde her heart betrayed her by pounding a mile a minute.

“Holly, hey.”

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“You said that already.”

“You know it sounded familiar.”

Holly smirked. If she didn’t know any better she would think that Gail was nervous too. But they were quickly interrupted by the rest of the group.

“Hey Gail, who's your friend?”

After that it was a flurry of names and faces as Gail introduced her to the various people who supplied her with endless entertainment that summer. And alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

And at some point Holly found herself being pulled by Gail away from the group but still near the fire until it was just them.

“Sorry to subject you to the barbarians.”

“I like your friends. They seem nice.”

“I think you need a new prescription if what you saw was considered nice.”

“They are talkers.”

“That’s all they do! And so upbeat.”

“Happy people are the worst.”

“Right?! I knew inviting you was the right choice.”

“Because I’m not happy?”

“You’re not a Disney princess or a girl guide.”

“Cause that would just be the worst.”

“It would be a deal breaker for sure.”

“You’re insane. You know that, right?”

But Gail just smiled at her and Holly was convinced the fire was playing tricks on her when it looked like Gail was looking at her lips. She wanted to kiss her. To bridge the gap between them that wasn’t more than a few inches anyway. But just as Holly was starting to lean a little closer a bucket of cold water rained down on them.

“Dov! I’m going to murder you!”

And then Gail was racing off to exact revenge and the opportunity was gone. It wasn’t long after that the night was winding down and Holly knew she should head back to her place.

“I’m sorry about that but I warned you they were heathens.”

“This was fun. Plus ones forever.” Holly offered as she bumped her shoulder into Gail’s.

It seemed like the blonde wanted to say something else but she didn’t and Holly made the short walk back to her house alone.

—-

After a restless night’s sleep, Holly didn’t want to get out of bed the next morning. She heard the loud voices and the slamming doors. But watching Gail leave was too much. So she stayed in bed with Lucy and poured what she was feeling onto the screen in front of her

---

“It’s about a bunch of rookie cops who all work for the same division. There’s this one awesome group of friends who are always getting into a bunch of messy situations and are goofing around but also taking care of each other and the city. My favorite is the redhead obviously.” Chloe chattered as they entered the bookstore.

Andy was quick to chime in, “Yeah, well my favorite is Alexandria, she seems so noble. The way the author writes the book, it just really makes you see yourself in the story.”

“Did you read it yet, Gail?” Chloe was practically vibrating with excitement.

Gail rolled her eyes, “I already told you Chipmunk that I’m not joining your stupid book club, so no I didn’t read it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Traci promised me dinner after.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Yep, the new sushi place down the street. If I am standing in this long line then you can bet your ass that I am being fed. Also why is this line so long? Who wrote this thing anyway?”

“That’s part of the fun, it’s a mystery. The author used a pseudonym and didn’t put a picture in the jacket.” Chloe explained.

“There’s no picture?”

“Well there is one, technically, but it’s of a white cat in a tree. I don’t think a cat wrote it.” Andy joked.

“Yeah, that’s why we wanted to come, so we could finally see who the author is.” Traci added.

A white cat? “Let me see that.” Gail grabbed the book and started to flip through it.

—-

Holly wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she certainly didn’t expect such a crowd over something she wrote. As she sat at the table signing copy after copy, it was almost overwhelming. She was at the point where was barely looking up and her editor just kept handing another book.

“Hey, you’re Gail’s friend from the lake!”

Holly’s head shot up at the mention of Gail and the familiar voice. Sure enough she was face to face with three of Gail’s friends. All holding a copy of her book. Which meant they read it. Fuck!

“Oh my god I can’t believe you wrote this. And I can’t believe we actually know the mystery writer. This is so cool. Your book is amazing.”

“Thanks, thank you. I appreciate it.” As Holly was signing the copies she glanced around but there was no platinum blonde in sight.

“Gail isn’t with you?”

“She was, but she left.”

“Oh.” Holly’s disappointment must’ve shown.

“But I bet if she had known you wrote this, she totally would’ve stayed.”

Holly doubted that very much, but she forced a smile as they asked to take a picture with her. And just like that they were gone and the line kept moving. But the sinking feeling never left.

—-

After the signing, Holly packed up Lucy and headed out to the lake house. She told her editor it was because she needed to finish packing now that her rental was up and the book tour was about to start. But if she was being honest that wasn’t the only reason. She knew that Gail had no reason to be out there at this time. But it didn’t stop her from hoping.

She spent the entire drive thinking of what she would say if the blonde did happen to show up. If it played out like a romcom and the woman that she had fallen for was sitting on her porch waiting to confront her about secretly writing a book about her. A love story really. Holly had dedicated the book to all “the cats who get stuck in trees and the people who help them back down.” Still she had never actually expected Gail or her friends to read it. But they had, and now Holly had to make things right.

She was a writer after all. So the words would come naturally of course. She’d say just the right thing at the right moment and Gail would understand that the book was…a mistake. God, she never should’ve written it, let alone published it and especially not without telling Gail first that that’s what she was doing out at the lake.

“I’m an idiot, Luc. A certifiable idiot.”

“Meow.”

“Thanks for the support.”

As Holly pulled into her driveway she could see a small light on her porch and boots on her railing. She walked up to find her dream girl clad in leather and any words she had prepared left her.

But she didn’t need to speak because as soon as she stepped out of the car and towards the steps, Gail greeted her with…

“I’m like a cat, Hailey. I’m really good at climbing trees…Hmm why does that sound so familiar?”

“Gail, I am so sorry. I never meant for you to find out like this.”

“That you wrote a book about me and my idiot friends? Why didn’t you tell me that’s what you were doing all that time that you were spying on us?”

“I wasn’t spying and I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how to contact you, you weren’t at the lake and I didn’t know your last name, and I honestly never thought you’d read it or that it was going to get published. It all happened so fast. I never thought I’d write anything. When I first got here there was nothing but blank pages, and then you moved in and suddenly the words weren’t a struggle anymore. Every time I saw you I was inspired. You were the only thing that helped me get over my block and then I sent some pages to my editor who loved it and wanted more. And then you showed up holding Lucy and then I was helping you learn to bat and you were making margaritas and asking me to be your plus one and I didn’t know that I’d finish it or it would get published but that’s no excuse because I should’ve told because we tell each other things and that’s what so great about us but I completely ruined it. I’m sor-“

And Holly’s torrent of barely sensical words were cut off by the press of Gail’s lips.

“Sorry you just-you just had to stop talking.”

“I won’t say another word.”

Holly was prepared not to take another breath so long as it meant Gail didn’t let her go. And she was rewarded by another more tentative kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Holly was breathless and her heart was pounding but she still had a nagging feeling of guilt.”

“I am really sorry, Gail.”

“You’re sorry that I inspired a really successful book that is going to make you filthy rich? Do I get royalties? Also is this sex scene in chapter 12 also based on your experiences or pure imagination?”

“More like wishful thinking.”

“Good to know.”

#gailxholly #my writing #i use too many words #sorry for the long wait

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