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softyoongiionly · 4 years

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Talk to Me in Korean (Advanced Edition)

Your boyfriend’s English is basically better than yours at this point.

After an amazing birthday, he decides to use his newfound skills to get ahead and begin planning next years celebration.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: established relationship au, domestic au, idol! jk, this is a part three to my other talk to me in korean installments but they don’t have to be read in order :)

A/N: Hiiii I’m back??? Hopefully??? This past month has been ROUGH (but like 2020 am I rite?) so I’ve been having a ton of writers block but as always, Jungkook has a way of pulling me out of all of the that. I’m sorry this is like my 50000th domestic jk story in a row ok??? I CANT HELP IT, ITS HIS FAULT. okiii anyway I love you, it’s 3am- this is unedited and im so sleepy. I love you again.

Warnings: smut (18+ only plz), more so dirty talking than anything but stillll

Fresh coffee.

It’s the first thing Jungkook smells when his eyes peek open.

His flush against the white cotton of the pillow that still holds the scent of your shampoo.

He literally can’t help the grin that erupts onto his lips as he remembers exactly how the night before played out.

As he remembers exactly where he is.

He remembers that his members had organized a surprise dinner for his birthday party which included the finest selection of meat, veggies and various other side dishes money could buy.

Not to mention, they ended the evening the introduction of a giant banana milk themed cake.

Despite stuffing himself till near immobilization as well as being surrounded by his best friends, nothing could have prepared him for his final gift: you.

The boys had flown you in from out of town and organized for your arrival in the middle of the party.

Jungkook may have shed a few tears as nothing could have made him happier than seeing his beautiful girlfriend pushing through the doors of the venue.

Once the boys had gone to home, Jungkook had taken you up to his room to finish off the evening with birthday sex.

Predictable? Maybe.

Did either of you care? Absolutely not.

It had been 3 months since the two of you had seen each other and he was nothing short of desperate for your touch.

Now however, he’s experiencing a different kind of bliss as the smell of bacon begins to waft in through his cracked bedroom door.

His smile broadens as he realizes very quickly that the same beautiful woman who had made his birthday so special had woken up early to make him breakfast.

He cannot begin to imagine how lucky he is but, he plans on using his day off to show you how much he appreciates you.

In a million different ways...

Running a hand through the raven locks on his head, he pushes himself to a sitting position. Upon doing so, he notices the faint red marks over the valleys and curves of his stomach whilst simultaneously feeling a hint of pain across the middle of his back. He smirks to himself and curiously runs the tips of his fingers over the aggravated flesh of his stomach.

What a night...

He finally stands up, moving his body in every necessary direction to stretch out the soreness in his muscles before taking note of his current attire.

Given the events of last night, it surprised him that he had even managed to pull on the pair of white boxer-briefs that currently adorned his figure. He assumed he had fallen asleep naked.

Jungkook experiences a pivotal moment then, completely on his own.

He realizes that he doesn’t want to put anything else on.

To some people, this wouldn’t be a big deal but to Jungkook, its everything.

When he first travelled to Seoul, he was too shy to remove his shirt in front of his hyungs, let a lone strut around the dorm in his boxers.

But with you, he’s finally starting to realize that not only is he comfortable with you but, he has a massive desire to express that to you.

He wants you to have parts of him that no one else has.

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who gets him this way.

Without the fancy clothes, the layers of makeup, the band aids on his tattoos, the carefully scripted words and persona...

That you alone have all of him.

He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his hair once again as he picks on himself for making such a big deal out of something so small.

But he knows that you’d get it and that quickly squashes any of his desire to make fun of himself.

As he approaches his bedroom door, he feels the ghost of nerves directly in the pit of his stomach.

Why was he nervous? You’ve literally seen him naked before.

He’s been inside of you more times than he can count so why was he overthinking going out to greet his girlfriend in his boxers?

He rolls his eyes at himself, “Because you’re weird, that’s why...” He mutters to himself before finally pushing open the door.

His kitchen is off to the left, slightly tucked behind a bit of wall and he is annoyed with the layout of his apartment because he is getting in the way of immediately seeing your pretty face.

When he does see you however, it’s entirely worth the wait.

You’ve got a portable speaker set up a safe distance away from your work station emitting a bit of soothing music throughout the kitchen along with a pot of fresh coffee on the island with his favorite Iron Man mug sitting right next to it, awaiting his arrival. There’s a few pans on the stovetop sizzling with various breakfast items that Jungkook doesn’t care to notice at first because his eyes are far too concerned with you.

And boy does he desperately wish that this was his daily life...

Your wear minimal clothing as well but there are fuzzy socks on your feet and a bit of bedhead adorning your crown and that’s really all that he needs to see to conclude that you are the most fantastic thing to ever grace the planet.

“G’morning...” He nearly mumbles, placing a hand on the counter.

He ensures his voice is soft enough not to startle you and thankfully his presence emits nothing more but a smile from your lips.

You turn towards him with the same smile, eyes raking over his body shamelessly before returning his greeting, “Good morning birthday boy. Did you sleep ok?”

He chuckles lightly, his head cocking to the side in confusion, “My birthday was...yesterday yeah?”

Your smile grows at his question as you make your way over to the sleepy man before you.

“It was.” You concede and as you near his figure, you slide your hands around his waist, “But I wasn’t with you the whole day so, I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Immediately, he grins boyishly his capable hands sliding up your body to pull you flush against his.

“But you already gave me so many presents...” He insists, leaning towards your lips, “Remember last night?”

You take a moment to admire how good his English has gotten and silently applaud him for managing to lead such an incredibly busy life and learn a second language all at the same time. You try your best not to vocalize your praise to often though because you know how shy it makes him.

Before you can answer, he presses his lips to yours, humming gently in his throat and promptly smiling into your mouth.

As you indulge in him for a moment your fingers gently brush the tan skin across his back. Your touch sends a shiver up your boyfriends back which then gives you no choice but to return the smile present in your kiss.

“Duh...” You murmur which prompts a delighted chuckle to escape his mouth, “How could I forget? You were like superman last night with all that stamina...”

Your observation causes your boyfriend to frown playfully as he points to the mug sitting atop the counter.

“Not superman- Iron Man.” He insists, still holding you close, the warmth of his presence infecting you.

With a snort, you pull back slightly to catch the glint in his eyes, “I don’t know how me comparing you to Ironman would make much sense babe but, if you want to be Iron Man then how am I to deny you?”

Jungkook smirks, already satisfied with his response before he’s even uttered it.

“I’m like Iron Man because he is a machine...” He wiggles his brows at you, “...and so am I.”

After the look of incredulity that crosses your face, you have no choice but to laugh, leaning slightly away from him to indicate that you have to head back to your breakfast before it burns.

“Alright fair enough-” You concede, still giggling a bit as his grip tightens on your body, his own beautiful smile still present on his mouth, “I gotta finish cooking, or else we’re gonna have burnt bacon for breakfast.”

He shrugs, unimpressed as he uses his inhuman strength to hug you tighter, “Bacon is bacon.”

This prompts more laughter as he reluctantly walks to the stove with you, your body still encased in his grip.

“I can’t cook with your mega muscles constricting my arms-” You point out, craning your neck slightly to try and meet his gaze, a ghost of a smile on your lips, which is still locked onto a mixture of mischief and joy.

With a furrowed brow he leans in slowly before pecking your lips quickly and finally releasing you, “What is constricting?”

His question is asked from near the coffee pot, his hands gingerly moving his mug closer to him.

He is VERY careful with this particular mug.

“Constricting is like when you squeeze something really really tight-” You explain softly, taking the now well-done strips of bacon out of the pan before laying them on some paper towels.

He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes narrowed in focus as he nods, “Ohhh ok- you mean like how snakes do?”

“Yeah exactly!” You smile brightly, turning towards him with encouragement on your face, “that’s why we call certain kinds of snakes constrictors because that’s how they kill their pray. Honestly, it wasn’t the best word choice on my part because, people definitely use the word squeeze more but-”

He shakes his head then, his eyes still focusing on preparing his cup of coffee, “It doesn’t matter- you taught me another new word without even trying to.” He assures you before a cocky smirk comes across his face, “I bet I know more words than Namjoon-hyung now...”

His comment makes you laugh as his competitiveness is something you adore despite the fact that you don’t fully understand it.

“Oh for sure, you probably know more words than I do honestly, with how often you practice.”

Jungkook smiles broadens at your praise, his eyes finally flitting up towards you, “Probably.”

He laughs along with you now, the sound of your giggling sending warmth into his heart as he brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re a brat.” You point out simply, still smiling because you literally do nothing else with this kid as you begin to fry up the last batch of bacon.

Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist whilst his nose burrows playfully into your neck, “Noooo an angel.”

Snorting again, you pretend his lips near such a sensitive area doesn’t affect you as you continue with your current task, “An angel? What on Earth would make you think that?”

Your teasing prompts a bout of snickering to leave his lips as he hugs you tighter to him, the soft scent of his hair sending a wave of comfort through you.

“You call me a good boy all the time...”

Although his comment is meant to be innocent, the way he intentionally lowers his tone causes your thighs to press together.

“I do,” You admit, trying to keep it together as you crack a few eggs into an awaiting pan, “I don’t know if that makes you an angel though.”

Jungkook senses the change in your voice and rather then shy away from the direction the conversation is heading, he decides to go with it.

“That’s true-” He murmurs and it’s then you can feel the smirk against the curve of your neck, “Especially since you only call me that when I’m making you cum huh?”

This causes your eyes to grow wide and given that your flirtatious boyfriend is staring at you already, there is no way for you to hide it.

So instead you play along, enjoying this new side of him more than you care to admit.

“Exactly.” You mutter, giggling to yourself as you feel a bit of heat on your cheeks, “Go set the table or something- you're going to make me burn the kitchen down.”

With a cheeky giggle, he seems satisfied with his mission to fluster you, placing a kiss to your cheek and rushing off to do as you’ve asked him to.

Breakfast passes without any more of Jungkook’s reckless behavior and you’re thankful for it because, you sincerely doubt that you’d be able to focus on your plate when you have a foul-mouthed buffet sitting across from you.

Jungkook insists on helping you clean up whilst also reminding you once again that his birthday was yesterday and that he doesn’t want any more special treatment.

All he wants is to be with you today.

You honor his request by sitting up a massive mountain of pillows and blankets in his living room and situating yourselves in front of his flat screen.

With the curtains closed and the scent of Jungkook’s sea breeze candle wafting throughout the room, the two of you begin watching a movie together.

However, halfway through the movie, the plans begin to morph into something else entirely.

Armed with newly found confidence, your boyfriend begins kissing you, his hands making their way towards your hips.

The pace of your breathing picks up rather quickly when he suckles your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling against the swollen flesh.

“For my birthday- next year...” He whispers into your mouth, eyes fluttering open as he nudges your nose, “I want to kiss you all day.”

His request causes you to smile, your hands slowly sliding up his neck to tuck into the hair at the back of his head, “Whatever you want.”

Your response causes his eyes to sparkle with mischief once more, delighted at how willing you are to give him whatever he wants, “Oh- it’s whatever I want hm? Just like that?”

The way he’s speaking to you makes you a little light headed and rather than try to reign back his bout of authority, you decide to run with it, “Just like that.”

Your response is spoken into his mouth, the kiss between you breaking so he can maneuver you onto your back. For a moment, he braces his hands on either side of your head, his perfect body hovering over you, with only the long strands of his hair and the thin silver chains around his neck reaching for you.

“What if-” He grins before grinding his hips against you, the swollen bit of his boxers rubbing against your clothed core, “I wanted to be in here all day? Would you let me?”

Through the waves of pleasure, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you nod, your fingers beginning to wander up the outsides of his forearms.

“Whatever you want...”

His grin is stable but the pace of his breathing is quickening, indicating his excitement.

He wants more out of this conversation though and decides to press you further.

“Would you let me put my face down there all day too? You wouldn’t have to cook for me if you did...” He points out before his grin morphs into a smirk as he leans down towards your lips, “I’d get full off your pussy wouldn’t I?”

The switch in languages also indicates his level of arousal as his mentioned before that English is far more difficult when he’s wrapped up in his emotions or in this case, his desires.

Using your nails, you lightly tickle your way up to shoulders tugging playfully to see if he’ll come to lay down on you fully but he doesn’t budge. He merely chuckles and grinds against you once again.

“Patience...” He parrots a phrase that you often utter to him when roles are reversed in the bedroom and the glimmer in his eyes informs you that he is eating up your reaction to him.

“But I want you...” You whine to him, hoping his thing for hearing you speak his language will be enough to break his resolve but he isn’t ready to give in just yet.

“That’s too bad jagiya, I’m not finish planning my birthday just yet.” Jungkook whines mockingly in return, the innocent curls framing his face contradicting his salacious demeanor, “I want to know how many marks you’d leave on me- maybeeeeee...” He draws out the word as his teeth tuck into his bottom lip, “25? One for every year of my birthday?”

Since attempting to tug him down didn’t work out, you decide to wrap your legs around his waist to further some sort of contact between you two.

“Twenty five? Your stylists would kill me...” You point out giggling, pushing your now damp panties against the swell of his length beneath his boxers.

Rather cockily, Jungkook snorts and leans down once again to brush his lips over yours, “I don’t give a fuck what the noonas say, they know how to cover me up and, even if they can’t- people are just gonna have to deal with it.” Another smirk forms on his mouth before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, “it would be really hard for them if they fired me don’t you think?”

You gotta admit, his new found attitude is turning you on. It’s not like Jungkook to be so cocky, despite the way some people may think and although you know for a fact that he’s putting it on for you, you have no problem sucking it up anyway.

“Definitely. BigHit would have hell to pay...” You concede, your words slightly muffled due to the current location of your bottom lip. Once more your hands tangle their way into his hair and you take advantage of this position to kiss him, hoping that will be enough to convince him to drop the teasing.

He kisses you back with enthusiasm, his lower body relaxing slightly as more and more of him presses against you.

“You’re wet.” He whispers, his eyes still closed whilst he continues to peck at your bottom lip, “Are you ready for my dick now?”

With his inquiry, he grinds against you once more, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. Your surprised that he spoke the second sentence in English as he usually would have switched fully to Korean at this point.

“Namjoon’s really been rubbing off on you lately...”

This insignificant comment lights a fire in Jungkook’s chest and prompts him to quickly pin your wrists above your head. His features hold a bit of disapproval but, mostly they hold that competitive look that is so uniquely Jungkook.

That “I’m going to win just to show you how good I am” kind of look.

“Why does everyone assume that Namjoon is the most perverted huh? Just cause he talks about it the most? He writes a few dirty lyrics and talks about porn and suddenly he’s the only one who wants to fuck? Jagiya- do you want to know why I look so distracted all the time?” He giggles in an almost maniacal fashion, a dark smirk prominent on his lips as he cocks his head, “It’s because I’m usually thinking about fucking you. Everyone always thinks I’m so shy- so innocent, but you’d let them know huh jagi? You’d let them know how fucking dirty I am wouldn’t you? I don’t think ARMY could handle it if they knew the truth...” Jungkook offers that same type of laughter once again before kissing you once more, “Now answer my question- are you ready for my dick now?”

His words and behavior stun you a little bit but mostly it just sends more arousal to your core and ruins your odds of putting these pair of panties back on when the two of you are done.

“Yes sir...” You giggle, saluting him playfully as you wrap your legs around his waist again, “I’m so ready for you- please? Can I have it?”

Your pleas work immediately on your boyfriend, who is already struggling with his level of arousal and before you know it, he is fucking both you of you into orgasmic bliss.

It’s over too quickly but it’s the kind of fuck that you know it going to prompt a round two.

Or maybe even a round three or four if you’re lucky...

Jungkook’s head is on your chest now, his arms hugging you tightly to his body, his post-orgasmic glow riding him of any of his previously cocky attitude.

“I like this.” He murmurs, licking his chapped lips and nuzzling between your breasts.

You smile fondly down at him, “Cuddling?”

He shakes his head, his eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Not just cuddling- but you, being here, at my house with me.”

With a kiss to his forehead, you use your free hand to brush his hair from his eyes, “I like being here with you too.”

There is a bit of color that finds it’s way to Jungkook’s cheeks as he utters a suggestion, “You should stay here with me. I will move my stuff around for you...”

It’s such a simple notion and yet it nearly moves you to tears but before you’re able to breach the topic further, his eyes fully close as he relaxes his weight completely.

Without clarity regarding whether or not he can hear you, you utter your response into his hair,

“Sounds good, roomie.”

1K notes · View notes

basicjetsetter · 3 years

Text

Part IV

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Little angst, Lot of anxiety, Fluff if you squint

▹ Words: 2.8k

▹ A/N: This chapter’s a bit on the short side, but it establishes a lot. Happy reading!

You’re not exactly sure how you pull it off, but you somehow manage to elude Peter for five straight days.

Playing the impromptu game of hide-and-not-be-seen was touch and go for the first two days, mainly because you weren’t sure what time you’d see Peter in the diner’s entrance. All you knew was that he’d show up early, whatever that meant. Almost every chiming bell sent your heart into overdrive, and whenever you thought you saw him, your stomach performed painful somersaults as you mapped out all likely escape routes.

No place in the diner was safe. Hal’s has a pretty simple layout: front entrance, booths to the immediate right, and bar with barstools to the immediate left, all in a shotgun fashion. If one were to try looking for someone, especially from the front entrance, all they’d have to do is marginally widen their field of vision, which is why the first two days were tricky.

The next day after the first run-in, about three hours earlier than his initial arrival, Peter came in through the front door, buddying up with Chris and asking for you.

You were clearing off an unoccupied table, piling dirty plates, when Chris called out, “Hey! How’s it hanging, Peter?” With the stack of dishes still clenched in your hands, you dropped down and crawled under the booth, coming face to face with an unsavory assortment of chewed-up gum underneath the table, holding your breath for dear life. Peter stayed for about ten agonizingly treacherous minutes as Chris failed to locate you.

On the second day, a sluggish Tuesday morning with only four regular patrons at the bar and no one in the booths, Peter had just walked through the entrance as you were coming out of the back, hand-carrying three of Hal’s famous Thin Mint Milkshakes. Without a thought, you spun right around and dashed in the opposite direction, busting through the employee door and colliding straight into Wendy. You’d never seen someone throw such a fit, but then again, you’d be pretty pissed too if someone coated you head-to-toe in milkshake.

That day was… eventful, to say the least, but it gifted you with the best estimate for Peter’s arrivals. Early meant 11:30 a.m. on the dot. Lunch. You tested out the time the next day, waiting behind the employee door and peering out the medium-sized port window. At 11:30 a.m., right on cue, was Peter, dapping Chris and ordering a slice of Banana Cream Pie to-go while also asking for your whereabouts, staying for only half an hour.

He left you a note each time he departed.

Can’t seem to catch you. I’ll try again tomorrow :) – Peter

Is this not a good time for you? I’ll stop by later if you want – Peter

Is everything alright? Text or call anytime you need me. I’ll be there – Peter

From the second note on, you found yourself captivated by his neat little scrawl and the way he always signed his name at the end, as if you’d forget it was him. You’d read them on your way home and right before falling asleep, trying and failing not to picture him smiling at you while you absent-mindedly smiled at his words.

Your friendly boy-next-door is so easy to fall for, but you just can’t do it. You can’t allow yourself to fall. Nobody would be there to pick you back up.

Some nights, you lied awake drafting a message that would effectively convince Peter that things wouldn’t work between you, that you’re a lost cause, and he should probably find some other connection if such a thing exists. But then, unfailingly, you’d think about his concerned little notes and sadly acknowledge that he deserves more than a measly text. After showing up to Hal’s for almost a whole week just to get to know you, Peter deserves the truth.

Your heart is not ready for a Soulmate, and it might not ever be.

By the fifth day, you spend a good chunk of time pondering over the right words to say to Peter while simultaneously hiding in the kitchen, pretending to prepare more fries. You never looked forward to hiding from him, but what other option did you have? Going out there and letting your coworkers and boss know he’s your Soulmate? They wouldn’t shut up about it, especially not Chris, the open romantic.

When your shift ended that day, and you walked up to Chris so he could hand you Peter’s fifth note, he emphatically shook his head.

“On behalf of my new friend, Peter, I can’t in good faith give this to you,” he stated, tucking the folded paper into his back pocket and crossing his arms. “Not until you tell me why you’re dodging him.”

You frowned, crossing your arms too. “It’s really none of your business, Chris.”

“True, but it’s his.” The little dig got to you, making you wince. Chris continued softly, “Look, he won’t tell me what’s up with you two, either. And, trust me, I've asked. It's just... I’m kinda involved now, being the messenger and all, so shouldn’t I know some of the situation?”

“No…?” you hedged.

Chris didn’t budge.

You couldn’t think of a lie on the spot, and a half-truth would only further complicate things. Treading the fine line of what’s too much information and what’s not enough left you frustratingly tongue-tied. What’s specific enough to still be vague? Chris stared at you expectantly with a petulant little lift in his brow, ignoring a customer’s disgruntled calls for a refill in the napkin dispenser.

In the end, you huffed out a resigned breath and hesitantly admitted, “Peter's someone I knew from high school—a really nice guy.” For Chris’s benefit, you added, “He just likes to check up on me every now and then. You know how I don’t get out that much…”

And in a heartbeat, Chris morphed from a tough enquirer to a softened pile of dough, sagely nodding his head as if he knew all too well how reserved you are and how much of a losing battle it is persuading you to venture out. Or maybe it was because he understood how difficult it is to reconnect with people you unwilfully lost touch with for five years.

How everything and everyone fell right back into step with everyday life, like five years was just five minutes, continues to boggle your mind. It’s not normal. You won’t ever pretend that it is.

The disgruntled man shouted, “Can I get any damn service around here?”

Chris immediately broke from the conversation and left you behind the bar, off to go charm the customer’s socks off and earn a nice $10 tip even though he clocked out ten minutes ago.

You went on your way home, the ever-present anxiety of confronting Peter growing by the second.

Hours later, dressed down to your pajamas and reading his words over again, you’re still thinking about it, dread now gnawing on your insides.

You couldn’t even enjoy your newfound peace of mind. Ever since the voice stopped, Peter twined into all of your thoughts: his notes, his visits, his smile, your connection to him. There had to be a reason why destiny paired you. Besides being your Soulmate, what is he to you? What are you to him?

Unrest barred you from sleep for most of the night, and when you woke up the next morning, showered and ready to tackle another day, it hit you.

It’s Saturday—your day off this week—and you’re not scheduled to go back to work until Monday.

You could put off telling him… but what would be the point? It’d only prolong the inevitable. You needed to come clean today.

Picking up your phone, you steadily tap in his memorized cell number, then type:

-Hey Peter, it’s Y/N. Can you come by my place? We need to talk.

Three minutes later, he texts back.

-On my way.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

A nice, early summer breeze billows around you, doing its best to calm down your erratic nerves as you wait for Peter on the roof.

Are you doing the right thing?

Will Peter be okay with this?

What if he isn’t?

You jump out of your skin at the muffled Thwip and sudden appearance of Peter standing a few feet away.

His chestnut hair is windswept, and he’s wearing regular clothes, a faded blue Midtown High hoodie and denim jeans. You weren’t sure why you expected him to come dressed in his suit. It could be because you heard the sound of his web-slinger first and immediately thought of Spider-Man, but it’s more likely that your brain hasn’t connected that they are one and the same. You don’t see Spider-Man when you see him. All you see is Peter.

He’s tense, not moving an inch closer and keeping his shoulders pinched up like he’s on the defense. You can’t guess why he would be.

Gulping down a hard lump lodged in your throat, you stutter, “H-hi.”

He gives you a polite smile that doesn’t reach his sullen eyes. “Hey”

You both begin at the same time.

“Peter, I—”

“Look, Y/N—”

Ice floods your stomach, freezing your veins and squeezing your pounding heart. He has something to say to you? About what? You subtly jerk your head up, signaling for him to speak first.

Peter clears his throat, looks down at his shoes, then back up at you. “I know you’ve been hiding from me.”

“You do?” you squeak, eyes wide.

“Yeah, and it’s okay.”

Your voice hikes an octave. “It is?”

He nods. “Yeah. It’s fine. I get it.” He stops to scratch the back of his neck and dejectedly rambles on, “I’m not the safest person to be around, and it’s all super weird and a lot to take in. Like, a lot. My Aunt May freaked out too when she found out. Anyway, I… I get it if you don’t, y’know, don’t want me.”

“Wait, hold on,” you interrupt, trying to wrap your head around what he said. “You think… you think I don’t want you because you’re Spider-Man?”

“Well, yeah.” He says it like there couldn’t be any other possible reason.

You lower your gaze to the ground, unable to meet his curious gaze. “No, Peter, that’s not it.” Tears prick your eyes, but you fight like hell to keep them from falling. Steeling yourself, you quietly confess, “It’s me. I can’t be your Soulmate because…” A rebellious tear rolls down your cheek. “Because I’m not ready.”

As soon as you spoke the truth out loud, laying yourself and your broken soul bare, you dimly sense the previously severed string quiver deep down inside your chest. It’s the first time you felt it in five years, and it’s not how you remember it. It’s not severed, but it’s not whole either. Its presence only reminds you of what you can’t have, what you aren’t ready for.

In the ensuing quiet, you swipe the tear off your cheek and look at everything except Peter. Yellow tulips are blooming on someone’s balcony in the neighboring apartment building. A handful of fluffy clouds float in the piercing blue sky. An orange tabby cat is sun-bathing in a window.

It’s such a beautiful day. Yet, here you are, struggling not to cry on a roof.

Peter breaks through the silence, murmuring, “To be honest, I’m not ready either.”

“Really?” You ask, a little too hopeful, bringing your eyes back to his. They look so weary yet resolute.

“Yeah. I was actually freaking out that night we met.” He timidly grins, and your heart flips. “I didn’t know what to say, then I screwed up and forgot to ask if you were okay after I had literally just saved you from falling. Not really a glowing first impression.”

Astonishing yourself, you laugh. You couldn’t help it. There was absolutely nothing remotely hilarious about that night, but the way Peter described it, as if it were a blunder solely on his part, was so ridiculous that it was funny. Peter joins in, too, his laugh coming out airy and wondrously addictive. That smile you couldn’t stop thinking about for a whole week brightens his face.

When the laughs fade, Peter soberly says, “Even if we aren’t ready, maybe we can try being friends, just to see where things go? I mean, we were meant to be together for a reason, right? This could be it.”

You unconsciously nibble on your lower lip, considering his proposal. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might want to be friends. Would you want to do that? These days, you aren’t really open to platonic relationships, and Soulmate or not, being in a friendship would require some sort of connection. You don’t like those much.

Be that as it may, Peter seems like the type to respect your many boundaries, and that’s exactly what you would prefer in a friend at the moment. Someone who doesn’t pry. Someone who doesn’t uphold generic expectations. You could go for a diner talk every once in a while.

Besides, it’s just a little friendship. Most are surface level, and some don’t even last a year. What’s the worst that could happen?

You sincerely smile at Peter, wondering about the last time your smiles were sincere, and say, “Okay. Let’s be friends.”

His face radiates joy. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I think we can do that. But I have a few terms.”

Peter eagerly nods, waiting.

You try not to focus on how his happiness thrills you. “One, don’t tell anyone we’re Soulmates. I don’t really want any of my coworkers to know.”

His smile drops into a sheepish wince. “I kinda already told Ned. But he won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“That’s okay. It’s mostly my coworkers I’m worried about,” you reassure. You weren’t going to berate him for telling his best friend. If things were different, you’d have done the same. “Two, don’t ask me to hang out with your other friends. I don’t do big friend circles.”

“Got it,” he militantly nods again. “It’s mostly just Ned and me anyway.”

“And three,” your grin broadens. “If Chris asks you what’s going on between us, be super vague.”

“Done.” He smirks back at you, then extends his hand. “Friends?”

When your hand touches his, and you shake on it, the warmth of his palm thaws out all your remaining anxiety. “Friends.”

✦ ✧✦ ✧

When Monday rolls around, a tiny ball of doubt weighs you down.

It’s not that you were afraid of talking to Peter. You were actually looking forward to getting to know him now that you officially became friends. It’s the future you’re stuck on. What happens if you get too attached to this friendship and want more? What if friendship is all he wants? What if it’s the other way around?

If you were honest with yourself, you’d know which way the gage is leaning, and it’s not in your favor.

You’re cleaning off the bar top when Peter comes in, doing his usual greeting with Chris before settling down on a barstool in front of you. He’s a little high strung, leaning his chin on his hand, then thinking against it, only to do it again. It was oddly comforting to know that he was overthinking too.

The corners of your lips tug up in a soft smile. “Hi, Peter.”

Your face warms as he smiles back. “Hey, Y/N.”

Chris barges in, leaning his elbows on the bar top and gaping incredulously at you and Peter. “Woah, woah, woah! Did I miss something? Since when are you two speaking in public?”

Peter checks his watch. “About thirty-seven seconds ago.”

“Oh, come on, dude. At least tell me what happened.”

You and Peter share a knowing look like two conniving co-conspirators sharing an inside joke, and you giggle as Chris huffs in annoyance. He glumly storms off when you two stay hushed, muttering, “Fine, next time you need a middle-man, count me out.”

“Does he hold grudges?” Peter asks after Chris walks out of earshot.

You’re still shaking with giggles. “Not at all. He’ll be back to his happy self in less than an hour.”

Peter only stays at Hal’s for twenty-five minutes, but they were the funniest and most intriguing twenty-five minutes you ever worked.

The conversation began slowly at first, but each question loosened the formalities. Peter asked about easy things: when did you get into art, when did you start working at Hal’s, and when was your birthday, all while digging into his slice of pie. He caught on fast enough to know the topic of parents was off-limits, and he thankfully chose to stay away from any talk of the blip.

When you asked him questions, he was open and responsive, jumping at the chance to talk about his passion for bio-sciences and Star Wars, sometimes covertly mentioning some of the duties he has a Spider-Man. Not a minute was wasted. You talked while serving customers and cleaning tables, keeping up the joke of staying quiet when Chris tried to meddle.

It all turned out smoother than you expected. Almost too smooth, and you’re not sure if that’s good or bad.

You are sure about one thing, though. You like having Peter as a friend.

...

Part V

#peter parker #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #spider-man x black!reader #spider-man x reader #soulmate au #post endgame #pre far from home #peter parker soulmate au #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #marvel fanfic #black!reader #slow burn #how to trust a heart #peter parker fluff

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snowflake-apocalypse · 3 years

Text

“English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.”

“You need to stop.”

It’s been six months since the formation of Global Justice’s new aces, “Team Go-Possible”. Though, the rhyme and reason of it was wrong, Shego was actually enjoying the partnership with her former rivals. Dare she ever admit it out loud. The three grew to have a good dynamic, she thought. Between conversations about world events and the audacity of Club Banana creating a brach-off store, to the double-edged sarcasm they dished out to their adversaries in combat.

Team GP’s missions took them near and far around globe. This time, it was a nuclear power plant in the blustery Netherlands. Some madman claiming the greed of the world has grown to great. That he was the salvation it needed. His answer to said salvation? Implode the richest nuclear power plant in the world to prove his point.

This has got to be the seventh extremist kook we’ve taken on this month.. though the dude’s not wrong..

Kim and Shego are in route to the mountain side factory. Shego landing their sleek jet on an empty field with concentrated ease.“Okie dokie, let’s go get Mr. Doom Gloom before he turns the mountain side into a mushroom cloud-.” Shego powers their craft down, switching various instruments this way and that.

“-Don’t know about you, Kimmie but I’m looking forward to the bocca coffee. No stupid avalanche is going to ruin that.”

Double checking her equipment, Kim spares the woman a glance. “Heh, glad to know where your priorities are, Shego.-” Kim directs her attention to their mission control via comm link.

“-Hey, Wade you got a lock on our position?”

“Always do.” From GJ headquarters, the tech wiz of the team zooms his screen in on their target.

“That is the most creepy, heartwarming thing I’ve heard from you, Load.” Shego quips, donning her green and black cold weather apparel. When she accepted Betty’s offer, the one thing she swore is that she was keeping her colors.

“Uh..thanks? Anyway, I’ve scanned the interior of the facility, the reactor is located in the south side of the building.” Through the wrist-worn Kimmunictor, a holographic layout of the factory appears. Detailing the whereabouts of their target, only one heat signature appears on the layout. The reactor, they assume.

“Wade, this guy is working alone?” Kim quizzical asks, zooming in on the projection.

“From my latest update, yes. The building has been evacuated for safety. No other intel I’ve collected suggests multiple culprits.-“

Wade swipes through the limited file he has on their perp. He had an uneasy feeling about this caper, but couldn’t justify it from a hunch. “-But, please still be careful, you two.”

Shego, after getting one last solid look at the diagram, closes her hand on the blueprint. “Will do, dad. Thanks.”

——

Approaching the bolted door of the factory, Kim still voiced her concerns., “Y’know, I just wished we had more information on this guy.”

Shego directs a small concentration of searing plasma at the deadlock, freeing the door. “Yeah, well I wished they’d appear at GJ’s doorstep. Or just stayed home.”

Cautiously pushing the door open, Shego scans the left side of the interior, while Kim covers the right.

“Okay, Wade. It looks as empty as you said.- Wade? Wade.” Kim, only being met with silence, tries and fails to reach their partner. Somewhere along the trek, the so-called incorruptible signal was lost.

“Fan-freakin’-tastic. Guess the altitude is the weakness.” Rolling her eyes, Shego marches on. “Let’s just shut this joint down before we get any more surprises.” Despite her quiet tone, Shego’s voice echos throughout the vast building.

Creeping through the corridors, the women stay on alert. Passing abandoned offices, break rooms, only Kim’s quiet chatter fills the space. “Hey, about that coffee, you also want to stop at Portugal of the Little Ones?”

“Are you serious, Possible? You want to visit a tiny replica city in Portugal?” Shego raises an eyebrow in Kim’s direction.

“...Yeah.”

If you don’t stop making that damn face...

“..Okay, fine. Portugal.” Shego huffs in faux annoyance. The pair rounded the corner to the vast power center of the facility, the two spot the ticking time bomb.

“Bingo!” Shego exclaimed, running up to the reactor. Which had been armed with specialized munitions.

“This is new.. Newer. What the hell kind of explosive is this?” The younger agent puzzles.

The device, almost cybernetic, jet-black with a single blinking blue light. Upon closer examination, Shego makes out a faintly marked two-pronged arch on the surface. Gaping at the realization, she snaps of her shock.

“No.. No way...”

“What’s up? What is it?”

“This looks like a prototype product of Gemini’s splinter cell scientists. Before he broke off to W.E.E. It’s not on a timer, it’s remote detonation.”

“Gemini? Hold on, then how is some random guy get a his hands on-“

Before Kim could finish her statement, a man’s honeyed voice breaks through the atmosphere.

“Well, you always were the most observant of the team, Shego. Bravo.”

On the grated deck before them, stood a man. Medium build, piercing blue eyes, a mop of brown hair turning grey. All pulled together by a navy trench coat and tactical cargo slacks.

“Sorry, don’t think we’ve met. Unless I’ve taken you hostage or saved you from a flooding city before.” Shego deadpanned, hands resting on her hips.

Leisurely leaning on the rail of the balcony, a shiftiness displayed in his eyes. “Oh no, I didn’t expect you to be familiar with me. But I have been following the folly of Global Justice’s new dream team. I must say, you are quite the force to be reckoned with.”

“And we really don’t want you to find out why.” Kim interjects, conviction lacing her voice.

“-So if you could hand over the remote, shut down the detonation, then maybe we can reach an agreement.”

“Possible. Kim. Of all the people in the bloody world, I thought you would be one to know.. it’s never that simple.” Faster than her reflexes, the man draws a sleek laser-gun from his coat and fires upon the unsuspecting woman.

Center mass.

Direct hit.

“Gah!” With a cry, Kim covers the wound with her hand, bracing herself on her knees.

“Hey!” Shego booms. Hands ablaze, she charges their suspect... no, enemy now.

Kim, biting back the shock and pain, rises to her feet.

Damnit... Sloppy. Get up, Possible.

Kim averts her concentration back to the reactor. Without Wade, she scrambles to find a bypass way of disarming the bomb.

Firing scorching blast after blast, Shego dodges the rounds aimed at her. The room being filled with the leaden smell of burning metal, as the balcony gave way to the force of plasma.

“I swear, that god-forsaken organization is more concerned with the stock market and shiny toys than actual global security-and you! You radioactive madwoman, turn your back on your very profession! The Emerald Rage can’t even decide who’s side she’s on!” Anger and outrage boiling from the man the closer she got.

“Yeah.. y’know your twenties when you’re trying figure shit out... a lot of grey area and robberies in there.” Flipping onto the grate, Shego faces the man with a controlled fury.

“Oh, also I’m on my side and no one else’s. Which, coincidently is the side that doesn’t want a giant crater in the middle of the Netherlands!” Weaving between a few more shots, Shego disarms the man. She restrains him in a firm, plasma-fortified grip. Not enough juice for a second degree burn, but it sure wasn’t comfortable.

“Hello.” The welcome rolling off his tongue like an invitation.

Abruptly Shego is met with a viscous head-butt and a solid tungsten bracelet around her wrist.

“Grrr-! What the hell-!?” Collecting her wits, Shego paws at the metal. Kicking up the intensity of her powers in hopes of liquifying the substance.

Her foe stands back in smug satisfaction, watching her ferocity slowly turn to languid effort. Her flames spasmed, then doused like a candle in the wind.

Shego lightheaded and pale, collapses with heavy bang on the cold metal.

Crouching next fallen woman, he gingerly strokes her raven hair. Conceited grin never leaving his face. “Oh, my my. Did dear Mother Director not tell you about the adverse correlation between tungsten and the Aether comet? I don’t blame her. Must’ve been frightening for her to raise super-powered children, especially if she had no way of controlling them.”

The clamber drawing Kim away from her task, horror at watching the strongest person she knew hit the floor. “Shego!”

“No, no.” Motioning to the button on the detonator remote, he actives the explosives. Sending the entire right side of the structure up in blazing destruction.

Kim instinctively covers her head, in an effort to shield herself from the blast. Evading wooden beams and falling debris, Kim steels and drives on towards her ally.

Producing a small syringe from his coat, filled with a concentrated supply of the fatal alloy. He methodically pushed back the sleeve of Shego’s fleece, carefully injecting the liquid into her bloodstream.

“My father, Jeremiah Asbell had so much passion for his work. So much drive to create a better world. What did he receive for his endeavours? Scorn and betrayal by the very people he supported!-“

Jeremiah Absell.. Absell.. Dr. Absolute. Wait, he had a kid?

“-All to be handed back by some punk children who should’ve been left in a crater.”

As the tungsten courses through her system, melds with her mutated cells, Shego braces the pain gripping her body. She clenches her teeth, fighting for some kind of spark of her dwindling power.

Thanks, Betty. Chalk this up to another ‘I got your back, kid.’ move. Trust sure ran deep there.

With a flicker of ginger hair catching her attention behind a wall, Shego arduously motions her head to face Kim. Olive meets emerald eyes.

After all of the years they spent trading blows, like scorpions in a bottle, after the late night discussions they’d have when neither could sleep... they both knew that look. The look of unwavering determination meeting one of unabated stubbornness. With all of the unknown wild cards revealed, Shego couldn’t afford both of them being killed.

Mustering as much strength as she could, Shego discreetly raises her hand, stopping Kim in her tracks.

Don’t you dare.

#Kim Possible #Shego #Team Go-Possible #GJ Days #au #a softer world #global justice #Wade load #part one of.....

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anna8alint · 3 years

Text

Apple Pie with Love

Pre-made pastry is the automatic gearbox to the manual; it is the Nespresso machine to slow brewed coffee. The modern kitchen is incomplete without pre-made pastry. It is a shared taboo and the soft-crime we all commit. Home-made pastry is brilliant, but sometimes, pie filling tastes even better when you didn’t need to labour over the dough. Such is capitalism that time is evermore an ingredient in the culinary culture.

When it comes to eating gluten-free, pre-made gluten free pastry is more than a convenience; it is a rare pearl, and a luxury. The temperament of gluten free flours is much like that of teenagers: volatile, moody and will rarely do as you wish. Pre-made gluten free pastry is a lifeboat; on this occasion, it prompted the thought of an apple pie into existence.

Baking comes with an itch of having to make something, where the act of creating overrides the act of eating. Apple pie is an absolute classic, much like banana bread. It is a dish which I have never fully delved into. Perhaps because it has no chocolate? With a father who is an avid chocoholic, a gene which is inherited, apple pie is a solid blind spot in my desert-dictionary.

But, there were Braeburn apples this time. Sitting idly in the fruit basket, calling out for attention. There was a roll of perfectly circular gluten free pastry in the fridge. A lot of snow outside. The time was ripe for apple pie.

Serve with a generous helping of vanilla ice-cream, and eat while watching Manhattan by Woody Allen — a winter evening encapsulated.

Ingredients

A. 1x roll gluten free pie pastry

B. 5x large Braeburn apples

C. 1/2 and 1/3 cup dairy free milk

D. 2 tablespoons sugar

E. 1 teaspoon vanilla paste, or vanilla essence

F. Patience

Method

1. Turn on the oven to 160°C

2. Put the pastry in a round pie tin; make sure the it has a pronounced edge

3. Pre-cook the pastry for around 10 minutes until almost cooked, then remove (make sure to poke with a fork prior to placing in the oven)

4. Core, peel, and cut the apples in half. Slice lengthways into very thin slices.

5. Once done, start laying the slices from the outside of the pie shape toward the inside to form a petal-like layout

6. Warm the milk in the microwave, add the sugar and vanilla, and mix

7. Gently drizzle over the apples, as evenly as possible

8. Put in the oven and bake until the apples have started to wilt — this recipe is better if cooked at a slightly lower temperature for a little longer, around 30-40 minutes

—Anna

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ducktracy · 4 years

Text

161. ain’t we got fun (1937)

release date: may 1st, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (cat, old man, elevator operator), billy bletcher (mobster mouse), berneice hansell (mice), tommy bond (taunting mouse)

the last cartoon we saw, which was another tex cartoon, was the behemoth porky’s duck hunt, which revolutionized the fate of looney tunes. pretty big shoes to fill after the fact! unfortunately, the shoes aren’t filled all the way. nevertheless, we’ll explore why. as the old saying goes, when the cat’s away, the mice will play (which is coincidentally the title of a 1938 tex cartoon as well!)

the opening shot is a homely multiplane pan across a sleepy, snowy landscape at night, underscored by a comfortable piano accompaniment. hone in on one house in particular, where a cat lounges in an armchair, positioned right in front of a roaring fire. another long pan across the household, where we meet our antagonist.

though this is a blue ribbon reissue, thus covering the credits, chuck jones and bob clampett get the animation credit for this one. chuck jones’ work is noticeable right away as we spot his animation of the old man, shuffling along the vicinity of the house, the newspaper in his fist shaking from the old man’s tremor. “yeah, there’s nothing like a good ol’ easy chair when a body’s tired.”

our old man displays his endearing, warm-hearted charm as he approaches his cat, abusing it by smacking the cat repeatedly with the newspaper, ordering the cat to “git!” the poor cat settles on a rug for comfort instead, nestling down for the night. then, tex displays some succinct timing as a book is thrown out of nowhere, konking the cat right on the noggin.

perhaps the only one who enjoys the cat’s suffering more than the old man is a mouse tucked away in the safety of its mouse hole, peering into the living room with glee as it tinkers around slyly. carl stalling’s accompaniment in conjunction with the mouse’s furtive footsteps create a combination that we would be seeing in many a cartoon, but primarily in friz freleng’s cartoons (the ever sly genius sylvester comes to mind). with the cat asleep, the mouse boldly takes a few strides outside its territory, waving its little paw in front of the closed eyes of the beast. no reaction. the mouse skirts back to the hole, not taking any chances. now sure that the cat is out like a light, the mouse gleefully grabs a paper and pencil and scrawls “the cat’s asleep”, fashioning the message into a paper airplane.

quite an impressive shot as the mouse tosses the airplane inside the mouse hole. we’re met with an elaborate vertical pan, showcasing the structure and inter-workings of the household. one mouse catches hold of the plane at the other end, opening it up. his mouse buddies crowd around to read the message. can it be? berneice hansell’s giggles overlap the underscore of the title song as a slew of mice stream into the mouse hole tunnel, arriving to the lookout mouse. the eager chattering ceases as the guard mouse shushes the crowd, indicating for everyone to move in slowly.

tex experiments with shadows quite a bit in this cartoon, spicing up an otherwise slightly tedious routine. the mice creep along the walls, their shadows dramatically enhancing the risk they’re all taking by being out. a clever avery-ism as a cuckoo clock chimes, threatening to blow the cover of the mice. the mice shush the cuckoo bird, and the bird, understanding, pulls out a clock of its own and showcases the time around to the invisible crowd.

freleng-esque trepid footsteps in conjunction with a minor key arrangement of “ain’t we got fun” transforms into another avery-ism as the mice suddenly whoosh past the sleeping cat. the cat wakes up, shivering from the draft left behind, and closes the open window, returning to its slumber.

now, the mice are free to roam and play as they please. the swarm all pack into a collection of mousehole elevators, an elevator operator ushering them in. in the elevator, they make various stops in the pantry to gorge on some foods. “first shelf: cheese, bananas, groceries, and jams. second shelf: candies, donuts, breads and pies. third shelf: things and stuff.” a relatively mild gag, moreso cute than funny. nevertheless, the gag redeems itself with a kick: all that’s left in the elevator is a polite, elderly woman and the operator. a bit of gallows humor as the granny inquires “could you tell me where i can find the mousetraps, please?” the operator is rightfully horrified.

the mice gorge themselves silly. one mouse chews his way through a loaf of bread, marching along with his gigantic belly. one of the more clever gags involves a gang of mice playing pool, a slice of bread as the tables, peas as the balls, and the open mouths of the mice as the pockets. one spare pea is left, and a mouse “breaks character” to slide over and catch it in his mouth. a mouse narrowly avoids being decapitated as it eats a line of cheeses from a row of mousetraps, another mouse attempts to uncork a bottle with his tail and ends up getting stuck in another bottle, one mouse indulges on a hearty helping of salami, and so on. all while this is happening, billy bletcher lends his voice to a mobster mouse warning one of his companions. “ and if the cat comes, give us a whistle like this--” he demonstrates, and his confidant nods.

raucous laughter inevitably wakes the cat from its slumber. the guard mouse takes notice, but at the worst time: just seconds before, he had been stuffing his mouth with crackers (the box, labeled WENEEDA CRACKERS, is a take on the old brand uneeda biscuit). the mouse attempts to whistle, but his efforts are in vain. whistling with crackers in the mouth, impossible. tex would reuse this gag in one of his last WB entries, the cagey canary, down to the whistler’s face growing red.

someone cries “the cat!”, and the gang of mice carving a turkey disperse just in time for the cat to shove its body through the turkey, narrowly avoiding its targets. now furious, the cat/turkey hybrid bounds through the kitchen in all of its ridiculous glory. just as it attempts to dive through an open mousehole, the doors of the hole shut the cat out, sparking a daze. an animator switch later (bob clampett maybe?), the mice retreat into their now open hole, throwing various food items in the grasp of the cat to frame him.

more chuck jones animation as the old man wakes up, finding his dirty, no good kitten sitting in the kitchen with a turkey for a body, candy cane in mouth, balancing a pile of food items. the kitchen is a total wreck. the old man chastises the cat--there’s a neat angle as all we see is his gangly, wrinkled, almost threatening finger jabbing at the cat, talking about how this is the last straw. the poses of the cat are lovely, from stan laurel whimpering to dubious shrugs. staging here could be comparable to the early sylvester and tweety cartoons, which are quite tom and jerry in nature (tweety pie comes to mind).

with that, the old man picks up the innocent kitty by the scruff of his neck, removing the cat from the turkey and kicking it outside into the snow. another avery-ism as the old man yells out the door “give ya a home and what do ya do? you eat it! now GIT!” a slam of the door in finality... or not. like in i love to singa, the old man throws the door open to blow a raspberry at the cat. the cat retaliates with a raspberry of his own.

a clever dissolve as we fade away from the cat parking its butt in the snow to the old man parking his butt in his armchair, complaining about how that old pussycat’s always in his chair. tex is a man of eloquent syntax as he displays with the old man’s rant of “good for nothin’ lazy old cat old cat lazy good for nothin’ old lazy cat.”

back to the mice, the guard mouse from before writing a new paper airplane message, this time with a bigger announcement: the cat’s gone. as the eager mice mow down the messenger as they scramble out of the hole, we finally segue into the eponymous number, “ain’t we got fun”.

definitely a highlight of the cartoon. the song itself is a classic, used since the bosko days of warner bros cartoons (honey sings it as she and a begrudging bosko wash dishes together in bosko’s mechanical man). lyrics are of course outfitted to the plot of the cartoon. the song is happy, peppy, with a nice jive. a nice opening pan of the mice playing makeshift instruments (like a pipe as a saxophoe). i believe the majority of the animation is bob clampett’s handiwork, that or virgil ross. tex experiments more with his shadows as we watch the singers dance and sing the song, shadows growing bigger and smaller and creating quite the theatrical effect. albeit brief, this is certainly one of my favorite song numbers we’ve seen thus far, in terms of song AND animation, and it definitely constitutes a watch.

now, the kitchen is a rowdy, hectic zone, so loud that the old man is woken up from his slumber. he ambles into the war zone, and is promptly pelted by various grocery items upon arrival. intriguing camera shots for sure, especially the overall layout of the kitchen. the scene is reminiscent of the merrie melodies of 1934-1935, primarily how do i know it’s sunday, where weaponizing groceries saves the day in that cartoon. interesting to note, bits of the music cue are reused from the fella with the fiddle when the mouse scrambles to disguise his home, but it’s not from the same recording.

the old man scrambles outside to safety, where he meets his kitty “friend” he kicked out. any notions of contempt and disgust are dropped from the old man as he attempts to coax his cat back into friendliness, hoping the cat will kill the mice. however, the cat’s having none of it, shaking his head and crossing his arms in defiance. great posing--definitely very avery. now, a few of the mice have congregated at the feet of the old man to witness the drama. one of the mice (who sounds suspiciously like tommy bond) remarks “see? the old cat’s not coming back!”

with that, the mice pour gas on the fire to spark some drama, taunting “YOU ARE A ‘FRAIDY CAT! YOU ARE A ‘FRAIDY CAT!” to the cat. the cat, visibly angered, zooms inside, barreling the old man over as it attacks the schoolchildren. the other mice aren’t too thrilled with the arrival of the cat, the guard mouse hurriedly tweeting on a whistle to signal the danger that approaches. various mice yell “the cat!” (including a very tiny mouse with a super high pitched squeak, a gag from the bosko days) the cat corrals the mice into their hole, and marches away proudly, tail in the air in triumph.

mice now gone, streaming out of the exposed cellar doors and into the cold night, the cat settles down in the old man’s armchair after a night of hard work. we end just where we started, the old man ambling to the chair, remarking “yeah, there’s nothing like a good ol’ easy chair when a body’s tired.” he notices the cat in his spot and raises his newspaper, preparing to strike, when he halts. in a change of heart, we get this lovely, hilarious, and absurd visual of the old man crawling on the rug, circling around in the manner of a cat and cozying up, complete with a blank stare of heavy realization that this is his new norm. he pops his head out to tell the audience “i ain’t such a mean old man after all, am i?” an offscreen book answers his question as it knocks him right on the head. iris out.

this is an interesting case. while the cartoon had moments of pure avery-isms, this feels more like a friz freleng cartoon from 1934 or 1935 than a 1937 tex cartoon. the structure, look, and feel all seem very freleng-esque, but even then towards the more milder freleng entries. with that said, it’s not a bad cartoon. it had some wonderful moments: the title number is such a wonderful mood raiser, and gags such as the gallows humor of the old woman asking where the mousetraps were and the end with the old man curling up on the rug were great. but for a tex avery cartoon, this is a weaker entry on his part. i suppose half of it is because his previous cartoon is one of the most influential cartoons to exist, and coming down from that high isn’t very easy. it just doesn’t quite feel like a tex avery cartoon. the cat is the one with the most avery influence, whereas the mice look straight out of a freleng cartoon or even a frank tashlin cartoon with those big, pie cut eyes. nevertheless, it’s a mildly entertaining cartoon that isn’t bad, but i would hardly call it a masterpiece. i’ll post (or have posted) the main highlights of the cartoon, so i suppose there’s no raging need to go out and watch this one. with that said, of course, watch it by all means if you want.

link!

#lt #ain't we got fun #reviews #looney tunes #avery #long post

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harrylovesteas · 5 years

Text

Rose Bush

Chapter two

Hey everyone, I am so sorry about the delay in updates and such. I’ve been sick on and off with colds and sun poisoning. Luckily, I have roughly two months until surgery, which means things should start slowing down. I am going to try and aim to update every two weeks!

Chapter 1 [x}

Restless nights are nothing uncommon for young adults. You’d think that sleep would be something common for those who complain about being constantly exhausted. For example, most college students are completely sleep deprived of wanting naps and snacks. Yet, most college students get trapped within a relentless cycle of lack of sleep and wanting more of it. For most, there remained a light at the end of the tunnel known as the end of the semester. However, in Aurora’s case, it was a little more messy than normal. After all, it was already eerie leaving in her Grandmother’s previous home now knowing that her grandmother knew she was dying and changed the home’s decor in hopes that Aurora would stay in the home. Plus, the question still remained, what had caused Catherine’s death? Obviously, the older woman knew she was dying, and seeing as she was only sixty-five and fit unless there was a medical diagnosis, how would she know that she was already so close to death? Originally, Aurora had assumed that It was a freak accident with no explanation, yet with all the extensive house planning, that theory no longer seemed to fit this puzzle. With all these thoughts swirling around in her mind, the girl couldn’t help but wonder if Catherine suffered or why she hadn’t said anything about her decline in health. To an extent, Aurora could understand not telling most of the family, since they do have a nasty habit of turning situations that are not about them into how it was all about them and if it was an inconvenience or not. But, she did not understand why Catherine, had felt like she had to keep this all a secret, hadn’t the scandals of the past shown that?

Regardless of how badly she wished to have been able to support or help her grandmother, she couldn’t change the past. She could not go back in time, no matter how badly she wished she could. However, a sense of comfort came from the fact that It seemed as though Catherine had some sort of support system here, people such as Anne and her children. The fact that Gemma and Anne both knew that she’d get the home and the conversation regarding the record player gave Aurora the impression that the women knew more than she had even suspected a neighbor would know. Yet, Anne and Catherine weren’t just neighbors; no, no neighbors would have a Sunday dinner with each other just for politeness, they must have equally cared about one another. Perhaps, Anne reminded Catherine of how good humanity could be. Or perhaps it was the mutual ideals and thoughts that brought the women together. In reality, Aurora had no idea how the two met. She could only assume that it was through an act of kindness on Anne’s part, and a desire of giving and receiving affection on Catherine’s end.

Lost in an ocean of questions and uncertainty, Aurora continued to lay on the floor as Stevie’s voice bounced off the walls. The brunette remained curious as to why her grandmother had wanted the home to be nearly completely remodeled before Aurora’s arrival, had it been because she was hoping Aurora would give the small town a chance, or because she knew with this setup Aurora would be less likely to sell on the family’s command? To say she knew the most logical answer would have been a lie because she truly had no idea what her grandmother had been thinking before her death. The last conversation she had remembered Catherine said she was having a friend over for tea, and how Catherine kept saying that she would understand if Aurora needed to get off the phone to study… Oh, how she wished that she hadn’t hung up the phone that day after only a five-minute phone call. Had she been as selfish as her father and uncle in which she couldn’t spare fifteen minutes for the woman who she claimed to idolize the most? Maybe, the brunette was no better than those at the manor that she judged so harshly. That could possibly explain why Catherine had never made her health to seem unreliable, and it could explain why Catherine had acted as though she had twenty more years of life.

In reality, the more answers the girl tried to come up with, the more confused she became. Nothing made sense to her at this point, her head was spinning with nothing but the empty pit feeling within her stomach. Even though so many questions and theories had her head spinning the young adult, Aurora knew for certain that she needed some answers to fill the empty avoid that was growing like a shadow within her soul.

It was the crackling popping sound of the record player reaching the end of the record had been the only thing in which slowly pulled the brunette back into reality. Slowly the female rolled on to her side and reached over to lift the needle off the record, before laying back down on to her back. Her honey-colored hues stared up at the white ceiling, attempting to persuade herself to make her way up to her room. After several moments, the woman reached over up for her cell phone to check the time. Seeing that it was one thirty in the morning, a soft delicate sigh escaped the woman’s lips. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, the girl set her phone on to the glass coffee table. Taking hold of the record’s cover in one hand, she carefully picked up the record Bella Donna by the edge before slipping it into its sleeve.

Hesitantly, the girl stood up from her spot on the ground and slipped her phone into her jogger’s pocket. Running a hand through her long thick locks for a moment, her oculars scanned the living space before her eyes noticed her nearly empty glass of adult white grape juice. Picking up the wine glass, she took a dragged out sip in order to finish the drink. After finishing her alcoholic beverage, Aurora picked up the two other glasses that she had Anne leave. With her hands full of the wine glasses, her feet padded their way into the kitchen, where she could place the glasses into the dishwasher, and start the load of dishes. Flipping on the main light in the kitchen, the American moved over to the black stainless steel dishwasher and began to add the glasses to the collection of dishes from dinner and dessert. Of course, Anne, being the kind woman she is, had already added the soap to the machine and practically loaded the dishwasher as soon as Gemma and Aurora had begun to enjoy their slice of banana cream pie.

After cleaning up the remaining reminders of the meal, the girl began to turn off the lights and tiredly walk to her new bedroom. Since she had not memorized the layout of the master bedroom, the brunette had been forced to flip on the switch to the crystal chandelier. If she had allowed the black void that filled her soul to penetrate her room, well then the girl would be more battered than she already felt. Yet, if one’s outer shell matched their inner soul, perhaps the world would be completely different. But, the reality of today’s society is that women must always look flawless. She must look like a model mixed with a celebrity at all times, young girls are now taught to grow up younger to appease the sexualized environment. Of course, not everyone feels that women must look perfectly put together, yet it seems to Aurora that, women are expected to impossible expectations regardless of the fact that if they did they’d be crucified and called degrading names. Being a female in society truly is like living a life with a double-edged sword. Why can’t every single person be equal, it shouldn’t matter what a person’s gender, religious beliefs, sexuality, or the color of their skin. Everyone breaths and has dreams, so why can’t everyone be equal, not one single person deserves to be treated far less than a human being because of any of those reasons.

Walking standing in the large room, the woman ran a and through her thick locks for a moment. Every ounce of energy had completely vanished from the cells within her body. Had the long plane ride truly take that much out of her, had it been the death of her Grandmother that had her body spiraling downhill, or had it been a mix of both with the duties of hosting an unplanned dinner? There had been a chance that it was from all three possibilities, but regardless, she had been happy that Anne and Gemma had stopped by. They gave her a few hours of escaping the empty pit from within, a break from her mind, and that had provided a simple blissful feeling. Gathering the determination that had been needed the brunette’s feet padded towards the master bathroom where she’d wash her face, brush her teeth, put in the unforgiving retainers, toss off her joggers and discard her bra on to the floor where she’d pick it up in the morning to come.

Once she completed her nightly routine, the girl turned off the lights and flung the top edge of the bedding down to the corner. Climbing into the large bed, her body melted into the contrasting silk and felt materials around her. Grabbing a hold of her phone, Aurora took a hold of her phone charger and connected the two. With the unsurprising sound effect of the phone starting to charge, the woman slipped her phone under her pillow. Although she was across an ocean, Aurora could clearly hear her father scolding her over the gesture. After so many nights hearing about a charging device could start a fire if tucked into bed, the voice seemingly replayed like a broken never-ending record, yet that still never had stopped her before. It was a comforting feeling to have her phone so close, and if it was further away, the chances of her waking up to her alarm clock in the morning decreased drastically.

Laying motionless in a single spot glancing at nothing but the blank canvas of a ceiling, the female attempted to find some sort of peace that would allow her to drift off into a soft peaceful sleep. However, it was the idea of sleep that her brain seemed to loathe drastically. No matter how hard she tried the gears within her brain would not shut off at all. She had told herself repeatedly since the funeral that she needed to stop thinking about the dark secrets that undoubtedly filled the DNA of her family, but that was easier said than done. She had suspected it would have been easier if at least aunt Scarlett seemed like she truly felt the pain rather than looking a feeling that gave Aurora an uncomfortable chill. The dysfunctional ‘elders’ of the family all seemed to be relieved about Catherine’s death. They had not questioned the cause of death whatsoever, rather they had been more interested in the reading of the will. Who did that? It didn’t make sense to the young adult whatsoever, she didn’t understand how a death of a close family member didn’t leave the others with a desire for the truth and much-needed answers of the suspicious death. At first, she had assumed that the grief hadn’t hit them just yet, but it was clear by the day of Aurora’s departure that they were only bothered by not receiving a trust or anything regarding most of the money. Growing up she always knew of their cold nature, but this had crossed some unknown line, giving Aurora a very clear anxious feeling that never abandoned the pit of her stomach. It was a feeling similar to what one would get when they felt like they had just been targeted by a predator, the feeling that would send a person into the sudden need to run away from another person; the feeling of the fight-or-flight response. Even now that she was miles and miles away, the feeling of being a target followed like a haunting and unforgivable memory.

As time drifted away in the darkness, the dangerous thoughts that have filled her mind regarding Catherine’s death slowly began to finally fall upon deaf ears. With heavy eyes and a heavy heart, the girl’s slowly began to give into the fundamental need for sleep. Her body craved a break from all the stress and from the never-ending thoughts. Sleep was the escape she needed, a place where all her thoughts could freeze temporarily. For a few hours, nothing would matter besides the hopeless fantasies that would fill her dreams, while her mind processed everything that occurred since landing in Britain.

The woman had not been asleep for more than three hours before a thought wiggled it’s way into her consciousness causing the girl’s eyes to spring wide open. It was only her first few hours in the foreign country and the woman had already messed up. Aurora had realized her mistake hours ago, yet she hadn’t thought about what it had met. She had met Gemma Styles and Anne Twist, her first day of being in Holmes Chapel, and not just that she had them both over for dinner and spent hours with them. They were here and she hadn’t even made the connection since back in the prime One Direction day’s she had dreamt of a moment to speak to the two, and yet she hadn’t made the most of that moment. Although, her mind had been clouded with her own drama, how did she not recognize the people she had been following on Twitter and Instagram for years. Had her mind truly been in such a haze that the connection hadn’t been made until they left her new home? Not only just that, how would she make up for her mistake, no matter how much she told herself that it was not that big of a deal and that they were just people, Aurora felt a ping of guilt. Should she unfollow them before breakfast, should she pretend that she wasn’t a fan of Harry or One Direction? Questions began to flood her brain once again as she tried to find another needed answer. Surely, they would understand why her mind was so preoccupied, yet by telling them would that ruin the small connection that had just been built? Truth be told the woman did not want to lie to either Gemma or Anne, but she had no idea how to casually bring it up. Coming to the conclusion that she’d find a way to bring it up just so there would be full disclosure, Aurora began to feel a slight peace once again. Yet, it was the fangirl dream that pushed her heart to accelerate its speed. Harry freaking Styles gave her his vinyl collection, she had a new secretive look into his inspirations and musical influences. She was able to see a part of him that she bet most people haven’t seen of him. A part of her felt closer to the idol crush she had from her teenage years, yet rationally she shook the giddy feeling off. After all, she hadn’t met the male. He may have cared for Catherine, or maybe he simply wanted to help Catherine complete her dying wish. She hadn’t known, but Gemma and Harry’s time had been put into the home, and it truly was a breathtaking sight. There was not a single thing that she disliked about the home, and the personal touches within the home gave it a breath of fresh air that Aurora truly appreciated. Not only was it her dream house, the house felt like an actual home rather than a cold institution. The home felt as though love flowed through the walls like electricity. The warm feelings of the home and sugar cookie scent of the home, Aurora’s eyes slowly began to close as she once again fell into her deep slumber.

Several hours passed with no dreadful thoughts, and Aurora slept in peace. Yet, that couldn’t last forever especially when she needed to be out the door at exactly ten am. So as soon as the time hit eight am, a loud irritating blow horn sound bounced off each piece of furniture and off each wall. Letting out a displeased and annoyed groan, the girl in the most comfortable sleeping position grabbed her black iPhone from under the pillow. Quickly stopping the alarm, she then rubbed her sleepy brown eyes, in attempts of making her not so perfect vision to become more clear. Although she wished that she could have stayed asleep for longer, she had known better than to set a new alarm and go back to bed. If she had done that, she would most definitely end up oversleeping with no time to truly get ready for the day to come. Plus, Anne and Gemma had already seen her not looking her best so she needed to look like the girl she tried to be most of the time. She couldn’t let people she just met constantly seeing her like the sleep-deprived human that she was just yet, she needed to show some effort to prove that she wasn’t this emotionally damaged scrub.

Forcing herself out of her most comfortable position, the brunette moved as so as molasses on a cold day. Her arms stretched above her head in attempts of waking up all her sleeping muscles. Some would people would do a simple stretch and release a forced yawn before trudging to get on with their morning, was that exactly what Aurora did? No, not really at least, the American made sure to stretch so forcibly that her body would stiffen so dramatically that the release would cause a pleasurable release. It was a feeling from within the body, that after such a long build up everything felt relaxed and refreshed. Surely, there were other ways to cause such a reaction in the body, but the female truly believed that good stretch is required before climbing out of the bed for the bed. Sliding off of the silk sheet bedding, her warm feet slowly touched the black cherry wooden flooring. The coolness of the wood further encouraged the girl to get going. Once standing up, she unplugged her phone knowing how it was truly nearly impossible to shower without listening to music. Truly, she had wondered how society used to shower without music playing in the bathroom. Of course, most people had been raised without the technology that nearly everyone under the age of thirty has grown completely attached to. It was not that long ago that many people would have a phone and iPod separately. Entering the elegant bathroom the woman only glanced at her reflection before picking one of her favorite playlists to shower to.

After only a fifteen minute shower, the female managed to accomplish nearly every single little thing that she had wanted to get done. She had managed to blow dry and straighten her abnormally thick hair, finish her skincare routine and applied a full face of makeup, brush her teeth, and even picked out her outfit for the day. The woman stood in her bedroom gazing into the full-length mirror, her caramel oculars took in her look in hopes of being sure that she dressed decently for the breakfast. She wore a pair of thick black leggings, mustard-colored over the shoulder sleeved top that had a massive bow of her bust accompanied by a faded denim blue jean jacket. Her eyeshadow was full of browns and warm golds, the highlight on her cheekbones and the tip and bridge of her nose was bright enough to blind a person, and her lips were coated with a nude tinted chapstick. Unsure if she should throw her hair up into a high ponytail, the girl let out a loud sigh, before simply giving up and shoving a scrunchie on to her small wrist, so then she could always put it up later if she wanted to do so. Although she had figured this outfit would cause her to be cold throughout the day, she was too lazy to go change her semi-well put together outfit.

Seeing that she still had a solid fifteen minutes until she was supposed to leave the house, Aurora began to clean up the mess she had created before falling asleep. Gathering her dirty clothing from the day prior, the American tossed the clothing into the laundry hamper that was placed inside her closet. From there she had made her bed, and then slipped on a pair of sockets and put on her black and white Nike shoes. Grabbing ahold of her wallet, the girl exited her room with keys in hand and started for the front door.

As though they were linked, as soon as Aurora had opened the door her eyes instantly found Gemma standing before in the exact position to knock the knocker against the thick wood of the door. Observing the other female, Aurora took in the sight of Gemma wearing a black coat, a pair of jeans, and the most eye-catching swayed brown boots. Even though some could say Gemma looked nothing more than average, Aurora truly thought the brunette looked like a flawless rockstar in a grey beanie.

“Good morning Gemma,” the American greeted with a small smile as the other backed away from the door allowing Aurora to join her in the outdoors. Once standing in the slightly chilled British air, the younger brunette locked the door once she shut the door.

Gemma had waited for Aurora to shut and lock the front door before speaking, “Good morning, Rori, you know after last night’s discussion about how you’re not a morning person, I fully expected to have to bang on the door to get your attention,” she teased lightly, gaining a playful eye roll from Aurora.

“I told you that I’d make sure to be ready for ten, and it is exactly,” she paused to read the time off of her phone, “nine fifty-eight, therefore I am still on time. Plus, I am never late to go get food,” she explained with a small shrug of the shoulders.

“I get it, I love food as much as the next person,” Gemma started, “my mum wants to drive us to the cafe. She knows you probably don’t know the area well yet, and I think she will most definitely try and take you on a tour of the city.”

“I would love that, moving from home to the big university was hard. I can’t even begin to think about how difficult it will be to adjust to a whole different country. I have already been told about the fact that there are different names for certain foods here, and that already has my anxiety growing,” Aurora responded with a slight uneasy laugh. Although it sounded ridiculous Aurora truly had a feeling of fear that she’d be at a supermarket unable to find what she wanted, which she’d be forced to ask a worker for help to find the chips only for the worker to show her where the French fries were kept. If that happened she would be forced to purchase unwanted fires just so she didn’t look like a complete idiot.

It was the loud sound of a door shutting echoing in the silent neighborhood that had caused both girl’s heads to rotate in the direction that the sound was coming from. Seeing a smiling Anne in a pair of jeans and her puffy coat waving her hand at the girls motioning towards the small black car, the duo took their cue as they descended down the steps towards the other house. The light snow glazed over yard and driveway hinted at beauty. Yet, when she looked at it, all Aurora could see was pain and hazard. Snow is always beautiful, but it was also cold, slippery, and so easily ruined. It reminded her of too many things, things she desperately wanted to let go of and move far away from.

Watching her feet in front of her, the brunette carefully planted her feet down with each step. But, with her own history of tripping on air, she couldn’t be any other way with the snow. Plus, if she were to fall this early in the morning the chances of the day being a great day were rather limited.

“You coming,” Gemma’s voice called out from within the vehicle while Aurora remained still at least seven feet away from the car.

Picking up her speed to catch up and be embraced by the warm heat of the car, Aurora took much larger strides. With each step nearing the black car, the girl prayed that she would not fall down and embarrass herself more than she already had. Finally reaching the car, the woman opened the passenger’s backdoor and hastily sliding onto the leather seat. She then shut the door quickly to prevent the warmed air to escape. “Good morning Anne,” the woman greeted. It was after the following greeting that the women were out and on their way to the small cafe that had meant so much to both Anne and Gemma.

Although the car ride was short, the drive to the cafe showed a lot to the young adult. It was only slightly after ten, and yet so many people were out and about. Granted most of the people seemed to have on uniforms, and Aurora concluded that they had class, there was something about the British culture that piqued her interest. So many things were similar yet different from America. It was a strange feeling to describe, it was almost like an alternate universe really. There was so much history present in this small town, and parts appeared to be perfectly preserved. To her architecture like this was beyond beautiful. She claimed that she loved it because it took her to a different time, yet that hadn’t been the case, it was just different and she loved how different that it was from the busiest of cities. It was towns like this that she would gladly call home with no hesitation.

Being in the small cafe, her bright amber orbs took in the bakery in awe. Sure it was not much, but it had so much more hidden away. The bakery had an undeniable soul behind every corner. Regardless of the fact that she had not realized Anne and Gemma’s relation to Harry right away the day prior, Aurora couldn’t help but wonder if this was, in fact, the bakery that Harry used to cashier at before One Direction. Standing behind the two British women as they ordered, carefully Aurora began to piece together her order. The sweet scent of the baked goods filled the air, the number of options remained to be undeniably endless. There were so many choices in which the American had no idea what to get. Just by looking at all the food and the scent radiating all the round had her mouth watering. In all honesty, she truly just wanted to taste every single food within the joint. Since that was not an option, the female decided on a French Vanilla cappuccino, a blueberry muffin, and a sprinkled donut filled with a raspberry jam. Once each of the girl’s got their order after paying, the three made their way over to a small table in the corner by the large windows.

It was sitting in this particular spot that Aurora’s mind began to wander off. As Gemma and Anne talked to the woman named Barbra, the American sat silently. She had nothing against the older woman, and she did think that the older woman was very friendly based off of their small conversation when Anne had introduced her. But, once again Aurora’s mind was moving one mile a minute. Always being one loving knowledge and logic, being in the dark with no obvious reasons had the girl feeling absolutely terrible. Perhaps it was not known that was killing her the most, but part of her wondered if the reality of the situation would be far worst. What would she do if it was the truth that would completely break her young soul? Life is unpredictable and family is messy, yet even though it could show the worst parts of humanity, it did make the happy moments feel even more beautiful. The pain makes the love even more pleasurable, yet would this particular secret could potentially threaten to destroy the balance that Aurora appreciated. Was it this thought process that was damning her even more, or was it this fear that would rock her world once again?

“Hey, Aurora are you okay,” a voice called pulling the American back into the small little bakery.

Blinking her eyes several times, Aurora looked over at her Gemma who appeared to have been speaking to her for some time. BY the look present on Anne’s face, it was safe to say that her conclusion was correct. Both of their bright kind eyes seemed to be searching for reassurance in her own. “I’m sorry I kind of zoned out there for a second,” she stated sleepily before taking another small sip of the scolding hot cappuccino.

“Thinking about your Grandma,” Gemma questioned even though it sounded more like a statement rather than a question. But, the words were enough to gain a small nod from Aurora as she began to pull a small piece off of her muffin.

“It’s just so insane, I feel like I talked to her not that long ago, and she was supposed to come home for the summer and we’d go to a concert. It was going to be her year to pick the concert, but now she’s gone. My family is my family, and now I’m to a country that I’ve never been trying to do what she wanted. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing anymore,” the girl ranted for a moment. Realizing how long her rant was becoming, the girl took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh, “I’m sorry about that, I have no clue where that word vomit came from.”

“Love, you do not have to apologize for that at all. It is healthy to express your emotions and feelings. Catherine used to talk about you and your family all the time. So we understand what you’re going through may have you feeling alone or like you are drowning, and we don’t want you to suffer in silence. She told me about your habit of pretending that all is well, even though you are dying for a hug. We loved her too, and loving her makes us love you too. The way her eyes would light up when she spoke about you was not something you’d see every day,” Anne spoke softly. Reaching a crossed the small table, the older woman took hold of the girl’s hand and gave it a loving squeeze.

Anne’s words had caused a feeling of warmth to build from within Aurora’s chest. It truly was not a feeling that she felt too often. But, it was a feeling that could get anyone through their lowest lows; a feeling of being loved unconditionally. There were no strings attached, and even though she had felt as though perhaps Anne and Gemma originally asked her to breakfast was to be polite, she now truly understood that their kindness seemed to have no bounds. They had only known her for an evening and her grandmother’s words about here, yet here they were being Aurora’s biggest supporters. Society did not make people like this anymore, most only cared about how people saw them or how many likes and followers that they had. Not many people genuinely cared about helping others and loving on the broken. There was something completely refreshing about it. If more people shared these attributes perhaps the world would be a much better place for everyone.

Unsure of how to respond to the kind words, Aurora grinned ever so slightly and said the only thing she could think of, “thank you so much., I am not sure if I can express into words how much that means to me. So please know that I appreciate that.”

“I know Cat was looking forward to going to another concert with you. She had mentioned the last time she was in the United States you two went to a concert and that you were so proud that she knew all the words to each One Direction song. I wasn’t home much that summer, but I remember her say how grateful she was that Mum helped her nail all the words, so that you’d be happy at the concert. When she got home, I remember her being so excited to talk about how much you’ve grown and how proud you were. Then she ended up showing us all the photographs that she had taken over the course of her vacation.” Gemma reminisced with a small grin etching along with her smooth facial features.

A soft pink blush spread feverishly across Aurora’s freshly painted cheeks. There was absolutely no way she could pretend that she was not a fan now. Nor would she be able to live down the many mistakes in makeup that she took in the summer of 2014. Even the people who she had just met would have known how terrible her style had been, the only good thing would be that they would most definitely see growth and well that at least she always had a great taste in music. Plus, even though she really did not want to speak of the year 2014, at least Gemma’s memory had given her an excuse to bring up the large elephant in the room.

“I suppose you could say that I had a rather colorful character when I was younger,” she teased a little, “but since you brought it up, I most definitely was a huge Directioner back in the day. The thing is, once you love the boys and start supporting them, you can’t stop. Occasionally, it will feel like that chapter is finally closed in your life, but then What Makes You Beautiful will start playing and then you are ready to give them all your money all over again. Even with them being on this ‘hiatus’ they still own nearly a hundred percent of those who have always supported them. It’s baffling the more you think about it. Anyways, ignoring that rant, I did want to apologize for last night. I really hope you two didn’t think I was being rude last night by not making the connections right away. Now, that I know that you know that I support the boys I feel like I came off ruder. I genuinely had no idea that you were THE Anne and THE Gemma until later. I’m aware of how crazy it sounds, but I only was seeing the awesome neighbors that knew and cared for my grandma. I know all of you are just human beings, but I have never met the family of celebrities or celebrities themselves, so I don’t really know what I’m supposed to treat you as. Or was I doing right by just treating you like normal people?”

Gemma and Anne had shared a look before Anne spoke once again, “you have a lot going on, and we are normal people. What Harry does for a living does not make us royal, We’re all just people going through life, there is no need to put any of us on a pedestal, does that make any sense?”

Nodding Aurora popped the piece of muffin into her mouth, before chewing and swallowing, “It really does make sense, just let me know if I am doing it all wrong,” she retorted honestly. In the past, the female wasn’t necessarily one to worry if she was wrong about something. She was the type of person who would speak their mind without any thought of how her words could affect others. She was all about her truth and speaking what she considered to be right. Looking back on her past relationships she truly lost count of people who she cut out of her life because they disagreed with her, or they simply did things that did not fall into her perfectly planned out future. It didn’t matter what their truths were or how they felt, the heiress didn’t care, and that truly had been one of her larger regrets in life so far. She had judge so many without trying to see it from their point of view and giving them the love that they could have possibly needed. Instead, she left them to feel how she had felt growing up on the hill; alone. Of course, she wasn’t always that way, but being the soft people pleaser in life only caused disappointment and pain. After being taken advantage of endlessly, it became clear to the girl that being alone and cold was the only way to prevent disappointment. If you don’t care about much, it’s difficult to be hurt.

“Communication is key, and that’s something we do very well in this family. I doubt there will be any issues, but if there are we will sit down and talk about it, yeah,” Gemma asked seconds before taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

“Deal,” the American agreed with a small wink.

“Now that we all have that settled, mum scoot closure to us,” Gemma requested as she pulled her phone out from her pocket, and proceeded to unlock the iPhone and go to the camera app.

Doing as told, Anne had shifted in her seat so she’d appear in the screen in between both Aurora and Gemma.

“Smile on three…one … two… and three,” the Stylish Styles instructed allowing the others to get ready for the photo before the click of the camera alerted the females that the photo had been taken.

Before taking another photo, Gemma sat the iPhone down onto the table showing the others the photo capturing their sweet smiles and soul capturing warm eyes.

“Let’s take a silly one too,” Anne asked with a smile that no one could ever turn down,

Nodding Gemma outstretched her arm once more to capture each of the ladies in the goofy photo. Getting each of them in the frame once more, Gemma began to count up to three. Upon reaching the magic number, the clicking sound of the camera went off once again. Repeating her previous actions the woman sat her phone back on to the table top.

With her caramel orbs meeting the phone, Aurora took in the image. Gemma’s tongue had been out, Anne puckering her lips while crossing her eyes, and what Aurora been doing? She had a peace sign up while trying to mimicking Miley Cyrus’s tongue image from back in 2013. The picture was quite the image if Aurora did say so herself.

“You have to send those to me, they’re absolutely golden,” Anne had said with a soft laugh, to which Gemma nodded and sent the photos.

“I sent them to Hazza since, he’d be jealous that we came here without him,” Gem stated with a mischievous look present on her face.

Anxiety began to rise within Aurora once again, her idol crush from her teenage years quite possibly just saw one of the most embarrassing photos that he could have seen. If they had met perhaps she wouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking. After all, you work up to the ugly and silly selfies. But, who was she kidding, she probably wouldn’t meet the rockstar, and he often was around much prettier people. She didn’t stand a chance, and honestly, she was okay with that. Being friends with Anne and Gemma was enough for her.

“Gem, can you send me those too?”

“Yeah, of course, here add your contact information,” the girl with the palm tree tattoo instructed while handing her phone over to the American.

Quickly, Aurora typed in all her contact information, so she too could gain access to the new photos. Handing the phone back over to its rightful owner, Aurora took the moment to glance at her own phone to see if she had been missing anything important. There had been only a few messages from her internet friends, who she’d argue are better than her real-life friends back home, seeing as they were hours behind her and just waking up, and only a few tweets from a couple of update accounts that she followed, and several snapchats that she assumed were streaks. It wasn’t long after she sent her good morning text to the group chat with her friends, that another group chat appeared on her phone. Both numbers in the group chat had been unsaved which lead to confusion, but when the pictures that were just taken appeared, the girl was able to figure it out. Looking up at Gemma with a quizzical look, the female’s eyebrow rose in confusion.

“I figured that we’d eventually need a group chat and that this would be less awkward than trying to trade contact information between you two,” Gemma had stated as though it had been common sense.

As the morning went on the trio ate their sweet treats and blood warming drinks. The females spent more time than intended at the little bakery. But, when deep conversations regarding the most random thoughts came into play, how could someone rush the conversations for the sake of nonexistent schedules. The answer was simple, good in-depth conversations would always top the observations of others. The girls talked about everything from what they thought about the crazed media influence over people’s lives to the oddest ‘challenges’ that they have seen all over on the internet.

“I truly have no idea what made kids think it was a good idea to try and eat a tide pod or even come close to putting chemicals into their mouth. That whole challenge was no better than attempting to drink bleach. But, of course, the kids now are programmed to do everything and anything for likes even if it almost gets them views,” Aurora murmured with a disapproving shake of her head, “it’s saddening really, when I was younger our ‘challenges' included the ice bucket challenge or even the cinnamon challenge. None of them threatened our lives by partaking in it, I’m just glad that my age group didn’t have the issues that this generation has,” Aurora had contributed sincerely.

“I definitely agree to that, I worry that society is giving these young impressionable kids unrealistic expectations and unhealthy goals. So many young girls are trying to be beautiful in societies eyes, which aged them up and forced them to grow up before they were ready. I remember how much I loved being a kid, and now these kids are growing up at an alarming rate. Boys are being taught that they must be shirtless and fit a specific body build to be deemed attractive, they must dress one way, talk one way, show no feelings, and it’s creating a toxic future for the world. Essentially we are telling all of these kids that they have no worth if they do not meet these standards,” Gemma added.

“That is why I think it is so important that we get back to giving children realistic goals, like reaching a certain level of skill, or by giving them role models who aren’t posting for the likes, but for the honesty of it all. We need to stop destroying the future and let them know that it’s okay to not be what society is shoving in their faces. As long as you're happy, not harming others, then it does not matter how many likes you get nor does it matter how you look. Because everyone is different, every child is unique and should be celebrated for their own gifts,” Anne added to the conversation passionately.

Each woman had a very similar perspective on the matter at hand, and those ideas gave Aurora hope that more felt this way. Perhaps if many agreed with these points then maybe there would be a large hope for change in the future to come. Because, in reality with how things are going in society, the adults were killing the children with the pressure of never being enough. If by some miracle a child does meet these expectations they are undoubtedly judged and feel the backlash of being something so insane.

By noon, the W.Mandeville Hovis bakery’s crowd became busier as people filed into the bakery to attain something to encourage them to finish their day with little to no procrastination. Maybe by some chance, their sweet treat would be a pick-me-up for a long day. Each person stepping into the building had a story, and it begged the question, did anyone ever take the time to listen to the story. Some stories could be darker than others, and some were more colorful, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that a person’s story should be silenced.

“What do you girls say to a day of shopping? We could get some clothes and maybe help our American grocery shop,” Anne offered before adding, “Harry had mentioned that food names in America are different from here.”

“Yeah, that could be fun, if Rori isn’t too tired yet,” the second oldest woman suggested with a slight grin dancing along her pink lips.

“As if I was too tired to do a little bit of shopping,” she reasoned while slowly standing up from her seated position that she had been for nearly two hours.

Stretching out her legs the girl looked at the mother-daughter duo, the close bond that they had was mind-boggling to the American. She could remember the last time she had even spoken to her own mother, was she eight or was it younger than that? Aurora was aware that Gemma and Anne may not have always been this close but based on what she had seen she didn’t think that theory was likely. So she had assumed that the pair had some God-given gift of a bond. Perhaps someday in the distant future, she would have such a beautiful relationship with her own child. While she did crave to have that positive relationship with a child, the brunette was not rushing to have a child. That idea was far away locked in a box in the back of her mind. Aurora wanted to finish all her pre-med school, have a stable career, be married, and have a dog before bringing a child into the mix. She wanted to live her life at the moment without the fear of letting down someone depending on her for basic needs to be met; which was why her motto remained borrowing friends’ babies rather than having her own.

After tucking her chair into the small table, the brunette carefully picked up all her garbage and crumbs that had fallen on to the table. With the small crumbs and trash in her hands, she approached the black trash bin. Aurora smiled over at the kind ladies who finally seemed to finish up with the start of the lunch rush, sending them a friendly wave the young female waited for her group to join her by the door.

Once Anne and Gemma had said their goodbyes, the ladies swiftly made their return back to where the car was located, so continue their long journey of the day. Back in the comfortable spot of the back seat, Aurora unbuttoned her jean jacket since she had buttoned it up during the breakfast as it became cold with people coming in and out of the bakery throughout the duration of their visit. Fully buckled into the seat, the female watched cars pass by as the vehicle slowly backed out of the parking spot. Her eyes gazed out the window watching everything slowly blur out of focus and into the distance. She couldn’t deny the scenery around here was beyond beautiful. The buildings screamed ‘British’ to her, and she loved it. It made a part of her view it as a home where’d you want to grow up or raise a family. It gave the illusion of happiness in her mind.

A soft laugh from the front passenger’s seat had caused Aurora oculars to look at the front of the car in attempts of finding out what had happened.

“Harry finally responded, he says ‘I can’t believe you went there without me. I thought we had a better relationship than this. Is that a raspberry jam donut I see? Cold hearted Gem, I’m disappointed. Kidding looks like you’re all having fun give Barbra all my love. See you soon x,” he’s too much,” Gemma read with an evident smile on her face.

“Tell him that I love him,” Anne requested while pulling into the next parking spot.

Seconds later Gemma began typing on her phone once again, probably texting her brother, therefore Aurora sat back for a second thinking about the fact that Harry had successfully been able to identify what type of donut she had purchased. What couldn’t that man do?

With the car coming to a complete stop and turned to look at the girls in her company, “now, who’s ready to shop until they drop?”

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