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matbarzyy · 3 years

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Wasted Love (part 3) [T.S.]

A/N: I have no motivation to write so enjoy this even though I was supposed to make this chapter a lot longer. Hopefully I’ll be back with the rest of this series soon but who knows at this point lolz (getting this degree is going to end me)

Word count: 1932

Easter brought about yet another event at the rink. Alessia was quietly finishing up work in her office when 5pm rolled around, and she stretched into her seat before reaching for her phone. One last text from Claire had gone unanswered, but it was only one last confirmation of their plans for the night so Alessia didn’t make much of it.

Fridays were the only days everyone could really leave work on time, so she got up from her desk and began gathering her essentials back in her purse. She had plenty of time to get out, Claire was only meant to meet her in twenty minutes and they were hanging out at the bar across the street.

Ever since she had started taking time to be with the team after work Alessia had realised that letting Jordan believe she was working late was the best way for her to get some time with a friend.

“Allie let’s go!” Tyler barged into her office without so much as a knock. It startled her enough to make her jump, and she got ready to tell him off, the words about to leave her mouth until she saw the look of excitement on his face.

“Go where?” She softened, putting her bag over her shoulder.

“Come on,” he bounced on his feet and pulled her from behind her desk to drag her through the facility.

“What’s got you so excited?” Alessia exclaimed as she stumbled after him, following blindly and dodging a few people along the way.

She didn’t have to think much to know he was taking her to the rink, but what she didn’t understand was why. Tonight was a family skate, players with their wives and girlfriends, kids and other relatives. Alessia didn’t fit in there and she had already told Tyler she had other plans.

Tyler stopped abruptly when they reached their destination, and in her course Alessia almost sent them both toppling over. She still collided into his back, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Look,” he motioned to the ring, decorated with a banner for the event and coloured fairy lights all over the place.

Families were on the ice, Alessia was able to spot Jamie among the others. The youngest players were messing around although mindful of the kids around, and the older ones taught their kids how to skate. Some held their babies, making them discover what being on the ice felt like for the first time.

Tonight was special and Alessia didn’t want to be in the middle of it. This was their own little universe, it was intimate and she was just one of their coworkers.

“Why do you want me to go?” She asked quietly because Tyler had mentioned she should come at least three times this week.

“Because now you’re with us, you should get to enjoy the fun parts of the job too. Weren’t you supposed to meet with a friend tonight?” He asked, watching her nod slowly. “Why don’t you tell her to come in, we’ll get her a pair of skates, it’ll be fun for everyone.”

Tyler’s excitement had died down, but he was still looking at her with the same expectant look in his eyes. His voice was calm, he used that soothing tone he always took to reassure her whenever she was stressed or upset, yet she still hesitated.

Jordan was the main thing on Alessia’s mind, and not in a positive way. His frustration about her staying out after work was still growing, the whole thing had escalated and Alessia didn’t want to upset him further.

“Ty, I really can’t stay late,”

“It’s five,” Tyler almost whined. “Live a little!” He made his tone cheerful again to get her to cave in.

He knew he had won the second she shook her head with a sigh, taking her phone out of her bag and texting Claire about the change of plans. She was too busy typing to see the way he beamed, but had Jamie been around he would have surely given Tyler the disapproving look he was growing accustomed to whenever he was around Allie.

What she did see was the way he bounced on his feet again as he got impatient waiting for her, and the corners of her lips rose. He could be such a child sometimes.

“Alright Seguin,” Alessia followed him to get a pair of skates, sitting on a bench to lace them. “You’re lucky I actually like skating,”

“Oh yeah?” His own skates replaced his shoes in what felt like half a second to Alessia. “Need help?” He noticed her pulling at the laces.

“I’m good,” she refused, finishing up fast enough and getting up again. The tightness around her feet was familiar, and she suddenly felt more excited about stepping onto the ice.

“Show me what you got,” Tyler motioned for her to go first.

In her confidence, Alessia forgot how many kids were on the ice on top of a bunch of reckless hockey players. She started off just fine and Tyler remained behind to watch, laughing at the way she showed off her skills, but as soon as a little girl cut off her trajectory she lost her balance.

Tyler stepped on the ice, gliding slowly to come help, but with a few awkward waves of her arms she almost regained her stability. She would have been just fine if someone hadn’t skated fast right next to her at that exact moment, startling her again and making her fall backwards.

Alessia’s exclamation when she hit the ice had Tyler rushing to be next to her in a few seconds.

“Are you okay?” He worried immediately, trying to see if she was hurt.

“You get slammed into the boards ten times harder and keep playing,” she winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “Of course I’m okay,” she reassured him and accepted his hand to get back to her feet. “Thanks,”

“I can see you’re a pro,” Tyler chuckled now that he was sure she was fine. “Thanks for the demo, champ.”

“I can skate!” Alessia defended herself, glaring at him and letting go of his hand to skate ahead of him, trying to prove her point.

“Yeah sure,” he laughed and ignored his protests, easily getting in front of her and turning around to skate backwards with her hands in his. “Let me just make sure you don’t end up on your ass again in less than ten seconds,”

“Rude,” she snorted but made no move to get out his hold.

They skated hand in hand for a while until Alessia’s phone pinged with yet another text that let her know Claire made it to the rink. They parted so that she could catch up with her friend and the two ended up holding hands as they talked and skated together.

“So this is your life now, uh?” Claire asked as they took a break on a bench.

“I mean, it’s actual work during the day but yeah,” Alessia leaned back against the wall behind them, taking in what she had achieved. “It still feels crazy that I made it here all on my own,”

“Well it’s not like Jordan would’ve been any help,” her friend snorted, earning a glare. “Oh come on,”

“You always make him sound so bad, we’ve been together for ages,” Alessia sighed and pouted a little, making her turn softer as she replied.

“No, you make him sound bad and I just put it in a less concealed way.” Claire brought her knee up on the bench to look at her. “When’s the last time you actually had a good time being around him?”

“We get along great at home,” her tone became defensive and Claire knew better than to try to have this conversation again.

“Okay,” she decided to drop it and stood back up. “Come on, let’s get back to it,”

Tyler saw them coming and stopped to let them step onto the ice without being trampled by the rest of the team. Most kids were tired now and off the ice, so things were getting a little rowdy.

“Ladies,” he motioned for them to go first, giving Alessia his stupidest grin to make her laugh.

“This is the first time you actually look like you have manners,” she teased because of something that had happened earlier during the week.

“Excuse me?” Tyler gasped, his hand over his hard to show his offense.

“You eat like an animal!” Alessia threw back, earning an eye roll and a whine from him.

“It was one time!” He complained before starting to make excuses for himself. “It didn’t have breakfast before practice and I was running late for a meeting, I had to be fast!”

“You’re disgusting,” she chuckled in response while Claire watched from the side, amused at the exchange.

“Oh I’m disgusting? You sure you wanna play that card in this situation?” He slowly inched closer to her, and since Alessia was facing him and had no chance of escaping by skating backwards she immediately started warning him.

“Tyler I swear to god I will- FUCK!” She screamed as he threw her over his shoulder and kept on skating. “I’ll kill you!” She tried to hit him but he was laughing too hard to care.

“Take it back!” He sped up, taking advantage of the space the others were clearing now that they were staring at the scene he was causing.

“Put me down you freak!” Alessia tried to wriggle out of his grasp and yelped when she felt his grip was less tight. At this speed she was too scared to fall from his shoulder if she moved too much.

“Insulting me isn’t helping,” Tyler said in a sing-song voice, a shit-eating grin taking up most of his face. He thought the situation was hilarious and he loved being the centre of attention.

“I’m sorry! You’re not disgusting! Just put me down!” Alessia pleaded, holding onto his jersey for dear life.

“There,” he laughed, helping her get steady on her skates. “See, that wasn’t so hard,”

“I hate you,” she grumbled as she adjusted her clothes and regained her balance.

Tyler gave her a playful eyeroll and held his hand out for her, which she didn’t hesitate to take so that they could skate back to the other side of the rink where Claire had stayed through the whole scene. She gave Alessia an unreadable look as she joined her again, and after skating and talking to them for a while Tyler went back to his team.

“You know…” Claire trailed off for a second, trying to find the right words as she once more noticed Tyler glancing back at them while he was supposedly busy with his friends. “I wouldn’t encourage you to like… cheat on someone, but that guy looks like he’s into you and he’s already a million times nicer than Jordan.” She eventually let out.

“Tyler?” Alessia almost choked on air. “No, god where did you get that idea? I’m sure he’s not interested, and it’s not like I’d be either. Jordan is… I’m with him and that’s not going to change anytime soon. I’d never do that to him.”

“I’m not sure Jordan thinks of you as highly as you think of him,” She watched as her friend shut her out once more, so she held back a sigh and tried once more to knock some sense into her. “Keep this one around, he looks like he’s a good friend for you.”

tags: @itrocksmysocks @kerwritesthings @pupsandpucks @shawnsreputation @whythough1319 @smit41 @glassdanse @fiveholegoal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @thefootballfaithfull

tumblr decided to be a bitch with the tags, strikethrough means I couldn’t get the tag to work.

Please reblog and let me know what you thought

#tyler seguin #dallas stars #segs #tyler seguin fic #tyler seguin fluff #tyler seguin angst #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #tyler seguin imagine #wasted love #wasted love 3

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mcu-fan-fics-blog · 3 years

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The Helping Hand

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Word Count: 3000 approx

A/N: Sorry for the wait I've been a little busy the last couple of weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Next chapter will be Civil war I hope to upload again soon. In the mean time if you have some ideas or thoughts send them my way.

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.7

Chapter 8: Time and Irony Walk Hand in Hand

Ch.9

"Well this is nice…" You say as Natasha drags you along. You see currently you and Natasha are quote on quote shaking a tail. Whatever that means… "Shut up and keep moving." You stop moving and pull your arm away. "Stop Nat we've gone far enough. It was probably just a coincidence we didn't really get that far from the food truck." Finally taking the time to catch your breath. "I think we should get back to the compound. Tony and Bruce must be waiting for me." You say looking around for a cab lucky for you one stopped right before you and you got in.

The ride back to the Compound was quiet. When she's about to make her way in, you stop her. "Nat… I know that didn't go the way either of us wanted it to go but I still had fun. And again what I'm trying to say is that I would like to do things your way, candlelit, waiters, and wine. If you want to of course." You fidget with your fingers waiting for her response. "Y/n I would love to… but I like the way you do things. You're not the Wine and Dine type... I like that." She mentions as she walks back in. You quickly follow suit after she makes a comment about your blatant staring.

Once you stop on the elevator FRIDAY greets you. Telling you that Tony and Bruce are waiting for you in the lab. "Well Nat this is goodbye for now, see you around." You say stepping off of the elevator. Suddenly this weight comes crashing down on you. Remembering what Bruce told you the worry in his eyes. Dread fills your body when you're walking towards the lab. "Guys I'm back… anything good for me?" You state casually trying your hardest not to sound hopeful. "Well yes and no…" Tony states putting the tablet down. "I'm going to be honest with you… your heart is trashed, absolute garbage."

"Way to make a girl feel special." You say with a dry laugh. "But I think we can build something. And with my arc reactor technology we can make it work." He states tapping at his chest. This is where Bruce jumps in "with the help of Dr. Cho we could try and make a new cradle… and use it for its intended purpose this time around. Making a heart powered by the arc reactor." You nod taking all the information in. "Well this is good right? How long would this take." This is where both Tony and Bruce go quiet. "Y/n the process is relatively easy, what's difficult is getting our hands on the Vibranium."

"Which is basically a non existent problem at this point… Bruce is just paranoid, my contact will pan out you'll see." Tony jumps back in clearly annoyed that Bruce was disclosing such trivial issues. "Even if we do get the Vibranium Y/n there's something we don't know… If you'll even survive the transplant." Your eyes meet his and he elaborates. "Your body might not be strong enough to handle it." Suddenly the inevitability of the situation dawns upon you. "Well I'm still doing it… I'm dying anyways. What difference does it make if it's a month from now or five. I'm doing it."

"Well, let not be hasty alright. We can still look for other alternatives." Bruce tries to argue. "Look, this is Y/n's decision. She's old enough to make her own decisions. Plus the more we work on this the higher survival chances are." Tony argues. You clear your throat when you notice some visitors standing by the door. "How long have they been there?" You ask, trying to mask your anger. Pietro and Steve both give you sheepish smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. "Look Y/n we just wanted to make sure you were okay… and by the looks of it you're not."

You stand making your way to stand in front of Steve who had just taken a defensive stance. "Well you're right I'm not okay. Now what are you going to do about it Cap… Other than feeling pity every time you look at me." You say pushing your finger on his chest. "This does not leave this room you understand?" You say looking at both Steve and Pietro. "But, My sister…" You nod "Figure it out pretty boy. Now if you could leave the adults have to talk." They both sigh but take their leave. You turn and notice Tony and Bruce staring, not saying anything. You can only laugh at the sight.

As much as you did want to be mad you couldn't. You were starting to come to terms with the fact that your business was now becoming their business. "I just wanted to watch them squirm." You clarify making Tony laugh. "Well I'd say you achieved that." Bruce mentions. "I'll give them til the end of the day. What do you think?" You say looking at Tony. "How much are you willing to bet, Billionaire to Billionaire?" He asks, challenging you. "50 million dollars." He scoffs. "Don't be a prude, make it Euros." You nod. "Best money there is." You say agreeing with him. "I'll hold you to that Y/n." He says as you leave the lab.

Two days later you were busy. You'd been in contact with Bruce and Pepper. Currently you were looking for someone to mentor. Someone you could leave your legacy with. Logan was an obvious choice but you knew he wouldn't take it. "You wanna give it a break Y/n you're not going to find the perfect candidate in so little time." Logan mentions. When suddenly your secretary enters with more forms. "Ms. Krast these are the applications from Midtown Science High. There's only four. Liz Allan, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, and uhh Peter Parker." You sigh with a smile forming on your lips. "They've got to be here my mentee. These kids are geniuses."

You say as you look through the applications. Slowly crossing off the first two, that Flash kid and Liz. Ned and Peter it was a tough choice until you saw some of yourself in Peter's eyes. "It's him." You say under your breath catching Logan's attention. "Peter Parker… I want him, he will be the future of our company. Make arrangements. I want him to feel welcomed." You say as you start to gather your things. "Send out the acceptance letter today." You say to Logan on your way out. "Will do Boss." He says with a smile growing on his face as he reads the file. Peter didn't have it easy on the contrary he lived through a lot but he still managed to be him.

The next week went by in a blur. Your will and testament were drafted and certified. You were set on that end and now on the other front. You were currently parked outside Midtown High waiting for the bell to ring. When it does a couple of minutes pass when a fresh faced kid is knocking on your window. "Y/n Krast nice to meet you kid." You say rolling down the window. He seems a little nervous. "Come on in Peter. We're going to get to know each other a little before we begin working with the internship." He nods enthusiastically, a small smile forming on his lips. "Tell me about your Peter, I mean outside of what I already know."

"Well I'm what most people would call a nerd. My aunt may always say that's not true but it is." You hum in agreement pulling out of the school parking lot. "Well being popular is overrated anyways." You jump in. "And Ned, my best friend, we're huge fans of you and your work." He says his speed increases as he starts to ramble about how he followed your trajectory as soon as he found out who you were. "Well I'm glad you like what I do Peter but in my eyes were equals. I will teach you my ways and hopefully you'll take over once I'm dead. Keeping my legacy alive long after I'm dead." You say seriously making him settle and quiet down.

"Ms. Krast you can't be serious." He says giving you an incredulous look. "I was an orphan… I was given a chance. Someone believed in me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you remind me of me… and I would like to give you that same chance that I was given." You say sincerely. "Y/n that's too generous… Plus I don't think that I'm what you're looking for. I'm clumsy and…" You stop the car making him look at you. "You may not be ready now or tomorrow but if you let me teach you, you will be." You say reassuringly. "Plus I don't plan on dying anytime soon." You say playfully at the end causing Peter to laugh successfully lightening the mood. "Also another plus for you after this year's audit we'll be working hand in hand with Tony Stark."

At the mention of Tony's name he lit up ten times more than you thought possible. It made you laugh a little but you understood him. "That's amazing. Me working for Y/n Krast and Tony Stark, a literal dream come true." You nod at his statement. The day went by incredibly fast. He was a nice kid, respectful and smart, a little naïve but overall sensible. You went to his favorite pizza place and talked, went to Krast Industries and introduced him to Logan. Showed him his dedicated work space. "So here's your badge, don't lose it. Umm… you'll be here every other day after school, and if you have some special dates tell Margaret the secretary and she'll make a schedule around it." You say as you're walking towards the elevator.

Peter stops abruptly turning to face you. "Thank you really." He then proceeds to rather hastily pull you into a hug. You're shocked initially but hug him back nonetheless. "Don't sweat it kid." You say patting his back. "I'll have one of my drivers give you a lift home alright." He nods. Just before you press the button for the elevator the doors open. Revealing Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. It makes you laugh internally knowing that the young boy beside you just had his world rocked. "Ms. Krast this is real right?" He asks in a high pitched voice. You nod.

"Pepper Tony, I would like you to meet my new mentee Peter Parker." You say nudging him forward. "Hi, you're Tony Stark." He says in a daze. "Yes kid I am Tony stark and you are?" Tony could literally not care less. Until you gave Pepper a look and she nudged Tony. "Alright kid it was nice meeting you." He says overly enthusiastically. Peter takes the compliment either way. "Alright Peter go over to Margaret she'll take you to the driver. We have some urgent business to attend." He nods and waves goodbye shyly and takes his leave. "Right what do you guys need." Pepper clears her throat "Well actually Tony and I wanted to invite you out to lunch."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get going." You say walking off with Pepper. "You'll be pleased to know that you won our wager. They know..." Tony mentions at the restaurant. You laugh. "Told you!" Pepper gives you a look. "They're worried about you." You sigh. "Pepper, believe me I'm worried too." Tony quickly steps in. "Which you don't need to worry about too much, everything is in place. Everything panned out Dr. Cho was more than willing to help us. So whenever you want." He says again not meeting your gaze. "I was… ummm. Actually thinking we should hold off on that."

"What… why?" They both ask almost immediately. "I'm okay right now." Tony scoffs. "So you rather wait till you have another episode to undergo the procedure." You hum. "Precisely see you get it." Watching their confusion you continue. "I've got things I have to leave ready. Time that I can't take for granted." Before they could argue with you said. "I need time… I-i drafted my will a couple of days ago." You say burying your head into your hands. "It's funny really… how you get things you're willing to live for. And life just comes along and takes it from you." Your mind drifts off to Viv and David. You wipe your tears and excuse yourself. Just as you're about to leave you remember.

"Put the money in a college fund for the kid." You grab Peppers shoulder and nod. "We'll keep in touch." You say leaving the restaurant.

Three weeks later

Pretty early on you noticed Peter's jumpy behavior. It wasn't long till you found out his little secret. Again smart kid heart of gold even, but too naïve for his own good. You'd had one of your AI robots track him after he'd shown up a little dinged up. Telling him you knew took some time. You didn't know the extent of his capabilities, but you'd seen the kid walk on walls and kick some ass.

As cute as he looked in that makeshift costume you had a better one in mind. "Peter I would like to show you something." You call out from your workstation in the lab. "Ward pull up spider schematics please." You call out. "What do you think?" You say as Peter glances at his new suit. "I-i um… It's awesome but who is at for?" He said quickly. You almost burst out in laughter right then and there but you played along. "Well I was in Queens the other day and there was this mugging and some hero came out of nowhere and stopped the mugging." You say as you deconstruct the specks of the suit. Watching as peter gawks at the hologram.

"When I noticed his suit wasn't really a suit, I made him one. You think he'll like it?" Peter nods eagerly, you hum in response. "Alright then try it on, see how it fits spider boy." Peter stands there with his mouth hanging open and you could swear saliva came out. "You aren't that good at keeping secrets kid." You say handing him the suit. "I expect you to be careful, kid." Peter starts to ramble trying to explain himself and begs you to not fire him. You physically had to stop him from pacing. "No ones firing anyone. I'm proud of your kid again, just be careful." Emphasizing the last part. "I will" after all that's out of the way you and Peter spent the day testing out the specks in his new suit. Web slingers and all. Yo I didn't leave until he got the hang of it. It took a while but it was well with the wait.

The next day you wake up to the news seeing a familiar twin on the news. Not good Lagos had gone wrong, the building collapsed and Wanda was to 'blame'. You hurriedly made your way through your morning routine and raced to the compound. As soon as you make it to the common room you can tell something's off. "How is everybody?" You asked Steve who was the first you saw. "I'm assuming you heard about the incident." You don't have the heart to say yes so you just nod. "We're all a little down on morale. Nothing we can't fix." You say, giving you a small smile. You hate that he is down playing this because of your current dilemma. "It wasn't your fault." You say. As you walk off towards Pietro.

"Are you okay?" You ask this time actually worried Pietro doesn't seem like his usual self. "No...It's Wanda. She hasn't talked to anyone she hasn't eaten she hasn't left her room." He says all in one breath. He finally stopped stirring and slid down to the floor and sat. "Its my fault. I-i could've moved faster, I could've saved them." He says defeatedly. "Maybe… Maybe not" You say bluntly sitting in front of him. "You can't go back now. And I know it's a sour experience. You made the right decision." You sigh. "You made the choice that saved the most lives." He nods letting out a deep breath. "I know… I know but Wanda. If I had saved those people Wanda wouldn't be feeling like this right now." You shake your head. "You fail to realize that if you had done that you would've died along with the other victims. Wanda will come around and let me talk to her." He only nods. "She's in her room."

You knock on her door a couple of times… no answer. So you make yourself comfortable and prepare yourself. Your knock every minute or two and you're constantly yelling in your head. Half an hour goes by and nothing. You go back to mentally yelling, when suddenly you're being dragged by the collar of your shirt into the room with the doors shutting behind you. "You're stubborn like a mule." She says not sparring you a look. "Yeah well I'm dying what are you gonna do about it." You quipped smiling at her. She chuckles. Suddenly the light leaves her face. "I killed people… I put people in danger, I put my own brother I'm danger." You nod. "You also saved hundreds of people. God only knows what that gas would have done. So thank you Wanda. You're my hero." You say sending her a smile.

Right when she's about to say something a certain red friend phases through the wall. "You will never cease to amaze me Vision." You say while looking between him and the wall. "You have very good taste in clothes." You mention as you eye him. He smiles. "Vision. We talked about this, there's a door for a reason." Wanda states. "Yes, well the door was open so I assumed…" He says, explaining himself. "What did you need Vision?" Wanda asks cutting him off. "Well Mr. Stark asked me to come and get both you there is a team meeting. With secretary Ross."

#avengers #marvel #natasha x y/n #pietro maximoff #wanda x reader #tony stark #natasha romanoff #reader x avengers #wanda maximoff #fanfic #mcufam #stark reader #captain america #civil war

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fearquestion · 4 years

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top ten baddest bitches in hunter x hunter’s succession contest arc

I hope you’re ready for six+ pages of meta

cw: suicide mention, spreadsheets, spoilers up to Chapter 390

NO. 10 : SHIMANO

If you don’t remember Shimano, she is Oito’s last surviving maid, and the one who straight up ignored Kurapika when he told her to answer Benjamin’s call first.

To not do what Kurapika tells you to do, especially when he’s like this takes an insane amount of guts. You have to remember that she just watched two people die, one of whom was her co-worker. Her head is so level you could build a house on it.

She had a better strategy, she was not afraid to go through with it, she didn’t bother wasting precious time to explain herself beforehand, and she was not afraid to let him know that he was incorrect.

She’s bad as hell!!!!!!

Shimano: lmao like hell

What makes her interesting is that her main motivation during this succession contest is to get out alive. While she later explains to Oito that she is staying out of duty for the royal family, I suspect that she isn’t exactly attached to the young queen, which is entirely reasonable given the situation that she’s in. I mean, she’s here to do a job.

Shimano did not know what she was signing up for, but she has not fumbled the ball once since getting on this murder cruise; something that has earned her Kurapika’s respect. I hope that cements her role as a larger player during this arc, and I really hope Togashi gives her more time to shine.

Fun Fact: she’s called Shimanu ONLY in Volume 36 of the Viz Translation.

Survival Rating: 4/5, she might pull a Bizeff and get out by the skin of her teeth, and there’s no one actively trying to kill her.

NO 09: MELODY

Oh sweet, sweet Melody, how I love you so. We haven’t seen too much action from her, but the reason she has placed on this list is her performance during the second banquet.

In order to give Kacho and Fugetsu a chance to escape, she pulled a Hisoka and revealed her ability to literally anyone who would listen, placing herself in serious danger

Little does she know how much trouble this is going to get her into, especially now that Tserriednich is interested, and it’s safe to say she won’t get back to bodyguard business anytime soon. Please, please keep yourself safe, Melody.

Survival Rating: 5/5 bc I just can’t accept even the thought of a reality where Melody isn’t alive

NO. 08: QUEEN OITO HUI GUO ROU

Listen, we’ve all entertained the fantasy of going from sugar baby to trophy wife, but few of us are unlucky enough to turn that dream into a reality. I bet you she was living her Hot Girl Summer until all of this happened, and honestly, good for her.

But by GOD was she ready to give it up to face the Succession Contest head on. She switched it up on us at the start by specifically targeting people who wanted to kill or control Prince Halkenburg, the current favorite to win. There was no hoping or wishing that things were different, she did the only thing that she could do in her situation: stack the odds in her favor as much as she possibly could. And I’m not gonna lie, she really lucked out. Kurapika is someone you want on your side if you’re trying not to die.

My favorite thing about Oito is how well she handles the pressure of her situation; she just picks it up and runs. Who can afford to feel pride when your daughter’s life is on the line? Need a cockroach? Start screaming! You’re the Queen and this is your house. You get what you want, Oito.

As someone on the bottom of the ladder, there simply is no time to entertain fantasies of grandeur. Oito never tries to check out of reality, like so many of the other Queens have done. She is not here to play around, she is here to play the game.

Unfortunately, her convictions lie in the fact that she thinks she and Woble can get off the boat alive, a theory disproven by Kacho and Fugetsu’s ill fated attempt in Chapter 383. Given the change of circumstances, how far will she let herself go to survive, and what will she have to give up?

If we’re being honest, the only way I can see this playing out well for her is if there’s a fire, or an iceberg, or i don’t know, a riot caused by a murder cult that somehow forces everyone on tier one to evacuate, and she just happens to be the last on to get a life boat, but I highly doubt that things are going to be that convenient for her.

Survival Rating: 2/5

NO. 07: KACHO AND FUGETSU HUI GUO ROU

These girls are willing to do anything, ANYTHING to get themselves off of this ship, including but not limited to, learning morse code, going into unknown territory unguarded, and risking their own lives in order to protect the other. And they’re like what, 14? 15?

Kacho said FUCK boomers

They worked, they planned, they gathered allies, and experimented, and they would have succeeded were it not for the curse that put their lives in danger in the first place.

It was so hard not to root for them. When we learned the truth about Kacho’s ability, I literally screamed. This is Gift of the Magi on steroids, and watching this animated, if it ever does get animated is going to be a tough ride for me, and I will start crying again.

These sisters have a heartbreaking devotion to each other’s safety, and I’m terrified to find out how Fugetsu will react once she learns the truth about her sister’s sacrifice. Will it break her? Will it make her stronger? My money is on the latter for now, but the way this arc is going, who the hell knows?

The beginning of her arc and even the passive nature of her symbiotic nen beast frames her as a co-dependent character. While Kacho 2.0 is still, technically, an active player in the form of a nen-beast, she is a nen-beast, something that I suspect will be picked up by either a bodyguard or someone from the Hunter’s association if Kacho’s original body is never recovered. Someone will have to break the news to Fugetsu eventually, setting her character up for some fantastic trajectory. She will either have to lean into her budding independence, or rely on Kacho for what might be the rest of her short life.

They have a lot to reconcile with once when we see them again. They’re in baby jail, Their most loyal bodyguard is dead, and Melody is temporarily out of the picture thanks to her stunt at the banquet. With mostly enemy bodyguards left in their employment, she has a lot of growing up to do. I hope this doesn’t make her an easy target. We’re rooting for you Fugetsu!!

Survival Rating: 3/5

NO 06: BISCUIT KRUEGER

I am so fucking glad that Biscuit Krueger is on this boat, I love her, she’s unstoppable, I don’t need to explain why she’s on this list. My only wish is that we get to see her beat the shit out of someone who really deserves it. Could she take on Benjamin? Probably. I hope she does. She’s got like twenty years on him.

Survival Rating: 5/5 because I just don’t think she’s capable of dying

NO 05: MACHI KOMACINE

Oh she’s on a mission, and honestly fuck Chrollo and Illumi because I would pay to see her rip that clown apart. Look at this face? How can you not get chills. I love this for her.

Revenge won’t fill the hole in your heart where Kortopi and Shalnark used to live, and honestly I don’t know if you can survive a second tussle with Hisoka, but you Go Get Him Queen.

Survival Rating: 1/5 Togashi said she ain’t gettin off the boat, and I’m inclined to believe him on this one. She’s had a good run. I just hope she pulls some wicked sick shit before she goes.

NO 04: MORENA PRUDE

Edgy, Nihilist, Boss Babe, Patient Zero, Bisexual Icon, Murder Messiah, the Joker wishes that he was Morena Prude so fucking bad. She is so more committed to burning this world to the ground. If you thought we needed more women in positions of leadership, here she is. She’s like the Herbalife of homicide. Let’s take a look at the math.

Assuming most people aren’t nen users and the Hunter x Hunter world population is about the same as ours, 7 billion, she runs out of people to kill/infect by round 13, making this a great way of causing the mass extinction of the human race, and a fantastic way to run a multi-level marketing scheme.

She looks like she’s handling being a boss pretty well, and her 22 picks for Contagion seem to be pretty good choices. They’re legit, they know what they’re doing, they’re loyal, and they’re really excited to straight up go Purge Night on this yacht.

While it’s safe to assume that Morena has already killed between 9 to 45 people, the only reason she’s not higher on this list is because we haven’t seen her do much except set off this gigantic domino chain of problems. Her influence on the arc looks like it’s going to be more passive, but she’s definitely here to make a splash. Her nihilism, and her connections to Tserriednich have me thinking that she might to be a crucial late-game player when things go completely fucking awol.

Ahaha, everyone in that boat is in terrible danger.

Survival Rating: 1/5 because bad girls live fast, die young

NO 03: SARAHELL

We do not know a lot about Sarahell, but her name has Hell in it and she’s willing to perform suicide in order to kill an infant and if that doesn’t make you Bad than I don’t know what the hell does.

Out of all the women on this list, she’s the only one that really scares me. Not only is she willing to risk her life, she wants to die for Camilla in the most efficient way possible. Woble is in her crosshairs, and if she’s as good as acting like a two-faced bitch as she says she is, we’re not in for a good time. I doubt that Kurapika would let her anywhere near the Prince, but I don’t know. They might fake an alliance, something that the Oito and Kurapika have been very open about. I can see her offering up information on Tserriednich in an attempt to wedge her way in. She might even help them out a bunch before she goes in for the kill.

yall are simping for the wrong woman i s2g

This is a legitimate assassination attempt, and one that’s a lot more sophisticated than Vincent’s. They’re in for a fight over in room 1014.

2/5 it would be interesting if she somehow managed to survive and had to live with the guilt of failure. Sarahell that she is prepared for that possibility, but I don’t think she knows how badly things can go for her yet.

NO 02: CAMILLA HUI GUO ROU

Camilla, Camilla, Camilla literally what part of you is not bad to the bone.

I think she might have as many costume changes as Killua?

We are first properly introduced to Camilla when she asks her dear old dad if he could, quote, “not accept dropouts that are not biological death,” meaning that she fully intends for every single one of her brother and sisters to die, and she doesn’t give a fuck who knows.

The next time we meet her, she’s instructing her mother to buy a bunch of designer clothes, and in the SAME BREATH she goes “Oh yeah, you need to kill your son for me, okay? Thanks.”

And you have really got to feel for Duazul here. Like. She’s got four kids and the most to lose in this game. She’s doing her best to keep it together.

Anyways, back to Camilla: uh, her nen ability? Are you kidding me? Who taught her nen? Who told her she could do that? Was the first thing that popped into her head “giant cat-shaped nen curse that activates when I’m murdered?” What kind of things do you have to do to form this kind of ability?

And don’t even get me started on her fascist suicide death cult. She’s taken advantage of people from the lowest caste of society and turned their gratitude into fanaticism. You cannot buy this kind of loyalty, especially when you expect your personal guard to do this. Which is insane, considering I don’t think she’s planning on abolishing the caste system any time soon.

Where Benjamin takes a more traditional approach to this war, aka strongarm the competition until they forfeit, Camilla has taken the most extreme measures to ensure that she wins. She does not expect anyone to survive, including herself, and has based her entire plan around that. If Benjamin is a lion, then Camilla is a steam roller.

As someone who has had it her way her entire life, she’s convinced herself that there is no possibility that she can fail, a trait that makes her nen ability so powerful. However, this determination is quickly turning into tunnel vision, and when people don’t play into her games, she doesn’t leave herself with a way out.

Which leaves us with a very interesting problem: if she dies on the black whale in a way that she cannot be resuscitated, what is her personal guard going to do? It’s hard to believe that they won’t want anything but total retribution, especially when they have nothing else to lose.

Bar Tserriednich, and maybe Halkenburg, I truly believe that she’s one of the most dangerous players on the Level One.

1/5 she’s got mad azula vibes there’s absolutely no way she’s not going down

NO 01: THETA

Theta is the baddest bitch on the boat, and that’s a hill that I’m willing to die on.

Who else has the resolve, the guts, the conviction to take this crazy motherfucker out for the greater good? Even after getting caught red handed, she’s still making moves to make sure that Tserriednich gets his ass assassinated. Period

post-attempt

When she finds out what an insane risk his nen poses does she get scared? Does she try to run? Does she try to bargain with the situation? No! She puts her big girl pants on and understands what she has to do. Shoot him in the head point blank because he’s nasty.

Note: in the Viz Translation she thinks, “I have to do this. I’m the only one who can...!!”

What puts her at the number one spot is her willingness to accept the consequences of her actions. Unlike Sarahell, there is literally nothing in this for her. The fact that she alone put herself up for this sacrifice speaks miles about her character, and since nen and personality work hand in hand, I’m really looking forward to seeing her Hatsu. I bet it’s sick as hell.

Considering that Tserriednich is the big bad of Succession Arc, it’s safe to assume that Theta is going to take an important supporting role in his downfall. Listen, I am counting my blessings and praying every day that her and Kurapika find common ground and team up in the next batch of chapters. These two have too much in common not to do so, and I can’t wait to see what she does next.

There is a lot to expect from what is one of my favorite characters in Succession Arc. She relies on herself, has her head on straight, and is willing to clock any bitch that needs dealt with.

You may not agree with me, and that’s fine, but on a list full of baddies, I dub her the baddest.

Survival Rating: Theta, I hope you live to see the end, but I’m going to give you a 2/5 on the survival scale because you are on thin ice, sister. Good luck and Godspeed.

Runner Ups: Lynch, Shizuku, and all the ladies from The Second Prince’s Personal Guard and the Hei-Ly Mafia Family. Would have loved to put Cheadle on this list but she keeps getting clowned by Pariston

Thanks for making it to the end! I just caught up last week and I have brain worms now haha please let me know if you’re posting hxh meta too!! I feel like we’re finally getting to the end of the first act, and the anticipation is KILLING me.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #meta #succession contest arc #morena prudo #morena prude #camilla hui guo rou #queen oito #theta #machi #kacho hui guo rou #kachou fuugetsu #fugetsu hui guo rou #sarahell #biscuit krueger #shimano #melody #i spent way too much time on this lol #i made a playlist too

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Nine: Group Therapy

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A familiar drink brings back steamy memories for Shane (by popular demand), a ghost from the past picks a fight with the present, and the future hangs in the balance for our heroes.

Behind on the drama? It’s cool. I gotchu.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, violence, smut, alcohol consumption, more feels than you can shake a stick at.

Author’s Note: Guys. Listen guys. I know this chapter is a tad late…not that I have deadlines, I just know y’all want more sooner than I can always get it to you. It’s also, though, a bit longer than most of the previous installments have been. I hope you guys enjoy it. I think it’s my favorite chapter so far…I definitely cried the most writing it…you’ll see why…I’m not sorry. Initially, for some reason, it was hard to stay focused. (I blame my own emotions and feelings clouding my ambitions. Can’t let that happen anymore. Even though the same factors apply. I’ve gotta keep my head in it!) I’m actually pretty sad that there won’t be very much more of this story…they’ve been such good friends to me. I may just have to find a way to keep them going in follow-up drabbles. I don’t know. But I’m open to suggestions.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

It wasn’t top on Shane’s list of things she wanted to do tonight, but it had been ages since she’d gone out with her friends. It wasn’t totally because she’d been seeing Sy. But more recently, he had become the most prevalent reason she ended up bowing out. Because she had plans with him, or she needed to do things that she hadn’t gotten or wouldn’t get done because of plans with him unless she skipped out. They were bad excuses, but those of an introvert weren’t usually top-shelf, anyway.

It was Heather, the other secretary Marsha and her husband Alec, some of her fellow PTs Cory and Juan, and both OTs, Olivia and Miranda there at Cade’s that night. And Shane and Sy, of course. They were sitting at two tables close together, and after dinner, the guys got up to play darts while the ladies ordered a round of shots.

Heather both requested and paid for the tray of tiny glasses full of dark liquor. Shane knew the aroma all too well. Those were full of Jack Daniels. And she got tingly just thinking about the spirit, especially now.

“Let’s drink the first round to Shane.” She passed them around and held one up. “For landing captain sexy pants over there, and for being happier than I’ve seen her in actual years.” Heather clinked to the middled with the other girls as they completed the toast with cheery responses of “to Shane!” With intermittent whoops and cat-calls. She felt funny saluting herself, so she said nothing, silently dedicating her own drink to the guy she wasn’t expecting, wasn’t even asking for, but who’d been gifted to her, by God Himself, it seemed. Whoever or whatever or why ever, she was grateful for him.

She downed the full measure of whiskey, feeling the familiar pleasant burn down her throat and reminisced about the last time she’d had the drink.

~~~~~~

“No you’re cheating!” She slurred at Sy’s kitchen table.

“Not how I see it!” He smirked, that crooked grin mixing with the alcohol in her already impaired system making a heady and dangerous concoction.

“You’re delib’rately using my PT career against me!” They we’re playing “Never Have I Ever.” And he’d just used “never have I ever measured somebody up with a big protractor.”

“Hey, you’ve been trying to get me with ‘never have I army this, and never have I army that.’ And you just can’t and now you’re mad about it.”

“Ugh, I’m not mad, I just…don’t like cheating okay. Fair play. I’m a Hufflepuff, through and through!”

“As a Gryffindor, I resent your implication against my honor! And I say, drink twice.” They’d run out of mixer, and were down to the straight liquor. She was fine with it. She loved the sweet, oaky burn of Number 7 as she held small swallows on her tongue. Relished the burn of it on the tender skin of her lips like a rough kiss. She took two shots at his insistence.

“Never have I ever…fired a gun!” And they both drank because she had chosen a “never” that she “had ever” on purpose. She liked feeling this way with Sy. She liked being able to abandon her control and feel safe in so doing. Knowing that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her. Including herself.

His eyes began to glimmer in a way that she could always tell meant he was thinking something particularly salacious. Which typically meant something good was about to happen.

“Never have I ever…fooled around in a kitchen.” He waited a beat, then slowly stood, taking a long stride to stand directly in front of Shane, towering over her as she sat limp from drinking and more than ready for whatever he was planning. The kiss he gave her was almost instantly hungry, devouring, consuming. A wild fire that would spread throughout the forest of her. He pulled a stool out from under the table near her, barely having to break the contact and sat down in front of her on it. She leaned into him now, the boneless feeling now overtaken by her craving for him. She tugged at his casual blue tank top that stunned her because of the way it matched his eyes so well. She needed him closer. His hands rested on her thighs, mostly bare in the shorts she'd chosen for tonight, simply for their comfort, and not because they provided any sort of easy access. Not on a conscious level, anyway, she told herself.

His grip was tightening but the pain of the pressure didn't matter. His thumbs and fingers were rupturing tiny blood vessels and she registered the pain and the fact that she would have bruises in the shape of his claiming grip but all that really mattered was that he was there. Near. Present. And touching her.

His hands moved, sliding up her legs, their trajectory shifting inward, their aim to open her up to him.

She was nothing short of willing.

He reached down to the seat between her legs and pulled her closer to him. Yes, she thought. He's too far away. Even though she could smell the whiskey on his breath even as she tasted it, still sweet on her own tongue. He laid a gentle hand on her left cheek, an almost chaste gesture, that snaked into something entirely different as it descended, brushing her neck, between her breasts, and over her abdomen, tumultuous from his touch and the drink.

He made it finally to her apex, easily brushing aside the fabric of her shorts, and teasing her there over her underwear with a soft, measured touch. She threw her arms around his neck, a wordless plea for him to go on. But her body was at odds with her mind.

“Sy, I wanna go slow.” She meant she didn’t want to end up in his bed tonight. Well, not that she didn't want to…

"Don't worry, sunshine. I'll take it real slow." he assured her, pretending to misunderstand her meaning as he teased her over her panties. She couldn't have spoken to correct him even if his lips hadn't taken an urgent hold on hers. His firm but frustrating touch was leaving her speechless and breathless.

Finally, he moved her undergarment aside to touch her, skin to skin. To pull a sweet, euphoric moan from her with just his fingers. He had been right about taking his time. It took him ages to find that space inside her that brought her to her pinnacle, but he made the wait enjoyable, all the same. She had a feeling he could have gone right to it, if he’d wanted to, but since she’d asked for it…

He grinned and chuckled into her mouth a bit as he toyed with her. He finally spoke,

“Hot damn, girl, you should have told me you needed me this bad.” He added a second finger to his game of search and destroy.

She could only grasp at his bare shoulders and the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to ground herself. He quickened, then slowed in sweet torture until her cries of his name became over loud for his neighborhood. The last build up, he added his thumb , brushing it against her aching center.

It hit her in waves of bliss as every muscle in her body responded to his localized, expert touch. Her vision blurred and for a second she could see the electricity flowing through air and matter and into her. Since when did THAT happen to her when she came?

“Sy!” She whimpered, a plea for him to stop but also to never stop.

“I know, darlin’, it’s alright. I’ve gotcha. Go on and let it out.” And she barely realized another climax had been building in her before she was falling headlong into it again, just as intense as the first one. He slowed, gently soothing her body after its small death, rubbing her neck and shoulder on the right side with his free hand.

He took his right hand away from her heat, brought it up to his mouth, and tasted her on his fingers. He poured them both another shot of whiskey, they threw them back, and once she had caught her breath from it all, she said,

“I don’t know the score, but I think you’ve won.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the present, she felt too sober to handle the bombardment of questions coming from her coworkers, no matter how pure their intentions.

“So are you guys a couple, like officially?”

“Have you met each other’s folks?”

“Do you think he’s the one?”

“What is he like in bed!?”

“I bet he’s an absolute fiend!”

“Nah, guys ya think that about are always so vanilla.”

“How big is he!?”

All of these questions seemed to come at one time, or at least before she could answer the previous ones, and it made her head spin.

“Listen, girls. I’m gonna go get myself a strong drink, and when I come back, I’ll answer one question at a time, so figure out the order in which you’ll be asking, and a punishment system for interrupting. Fair?” The hens all nodded their beaks in agreement as she stood to go to the bar. She reminded herself to add a disclaimer when she got back to the table about having veto power over questions she felt weren’t appropriate.

As she stood at the bar waiting for her turn with the bartender, she tensed as she heard an all too familiar voice say her name.

“Shane Benton.” He said in a charming tenor that she now found obnoxiously boyish.

“Elliott Thomas. What misdeed did I do in a past life to end up back in the same room with you?” He ignored her jibe.

“You look well.” He said, surveying her as if he intended to make a purchase.

“Okay.” She would not give credence to half assed, insincere compliments.

“Who’s the guy you’re with tonight?”

“That couldn’t be any less your business.”

“You’ll always be my business, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny, you didn’t seem to give a shit when we were together.”

“Come on, tell me where ya met this meat head.”

“Back off, Elliott.”

“Come on. He’s in a plaid shirt. He looks like he’s trying to cosplay the Brawny man. How quick does he pick you up?” He raised his eyebrows, driving home his attempt at double entendre.

The rage came suddenly, without warning, and manifested in a firm slap from her right hand to his left cheek. It landed solidly enough for him to have to stretch his jaw and feel it, as if making sure it was still there.

"Well, still got some spunk. Good to know. Not so fast--" he grabbed her wrist as she stepped away from the bar, but she was saved the trouble of getting out of it with her favorite self-defense maneuver, by the solid wall of red plaid and denim topped with his favorite black Chiefs hat. Sy had apparently noticed her altercation at the bar and elected to step in.

"What's goin' on here?" he asked, not brusquely, but so coolly that it was almost friendly. Elliott let go of Shane's wrist immediately and threw his hands up.

"No trouble here, man. Just a little friendly conversation between two former lovers." he said, oozing pure, stinking hubris.

"Oh, you're Elliott. Nice to meet you, man." Sy reached out to shake the man's hand. "I've actually been wanting to thank you."

Elliott looked confused. So was Shane. This guy had broken her heart. What was Sy intent on thanking him for?

"I wanted to thank you for fucking up so bad with this kind, beautiful woman, this graceful and forgiving saint, that she couldn't stand the sight of you any longer. Who knows. If you hadn't been such a dick, she may not have been free to be with me today." all of this, Sy said with Elliott's hand still in his. Shaking it. Apparently not too firmly. Until Sy leaned in very closely and whispered something to Elliott that made him go several shades of puce, and grimace, pulling his hand away, which Sy eventually relinquished.

After Elliott had tucked his tail and ran away, Shane found herself in a far less merry temperament than she'd come in with. She and Sy decided to leave. They said their goodbyes, Shane promising more answers as soon as she could. And they left, her arm around his waist, and his around her shoulder.

About halfway to Sy's truck, Shane heard a solid ping near her ear and the shattering of glass on the pavement nearby, followed by a low growl from deep in Sy's chest. They halted in their stride, Shane turning quickly around, Sy turning more slowly and intentionally in the direction of his would be attacker.

Elliot stood beside the brick exterior of the bar with three other men, none of them within 50 pounds of Sy, and hardly a match for him…individually…but together, she was concerned. She would absolutely try to help fight these guys, but she couldn't take out more than one with the potential weapons she had on her person that she could inventory off hand. Plus, if she had to fight Elliott…he'd get into her head…she knew it. Thank God she didn't know the other guys. She'd hope to get one of them.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Sy said, back to his polite self, not worried about potentially getting into a street fight in which they were outnumbered two to one.

"Just thought you'd like to tell my buddies here what you said to me in there. I mean, I gave them the gist, but I think they'd like to hear it from you." Elliott puffed.

"Ah, somebody can't keep a secret." Sy sigh scolded him, wagging his finger at him as if he was a misbehaved child. "I was gonna let it all go as long as you left us alone. Did you mention that to them before you got them into a whole mess o' trouble?"

"Tell them, you fuckin' coward."

"Big talk from a guy who had to make it four to one before he confronted me." Sy accused.

"Four to two." Shane squared her shoulders, standing next to Sy, and attempting to make herself look more formidable, which was next to impossible given the fact that the man beside her was a massive army captain and she was just…herself. But she'd be damned if she stood by and let Sy take all of this on when it was all because of her. Plus, she didn't want him to reinjure himself.

"How about you jump in if I need ya, sunshine." He whispered to her. She didn't move or reply. "But ya know, since ya asked so nicely, I will oblige. I told this piss-ant friend of yours after he physically accosted this lovely lady here, in no uncertain terms that if he EVER touched MY GIRLFRIEND again, he'd be begging for death for hours before I had mercy on him and put him out of his misery and that his body would never be found." He eyed each of the men before him, his fiery gaze a physical force upon them, letting his promise to Elliott sink in. "Now if y'all wanna defend a man who would put hands on a woman, and then proceed to physically assault a United States Army veteran like myself, I can come up with similar guarantees for all of ya. And carry them out here tonight. But y'all look like ya've got a lot o' shit ya still wanna get done in this life with limbs and dicks intact. So I would encourage all of you fine gentlemen to walk away from this situation."

Two of the men, surrendered, claiming Elliott hadn't mentioned that he'd hurt Shane or that Sy was a vet. One of the men asked to shake his hand and thanked him for his service. The smallest member of Elliott's group, however, remained with him. Shane thought she recognized him after getting a better look. He'd been at a few events she'd been to with Elliott's friend group. She thought his name was Kyle. Clearly he was one of Elliott's oldest and most loyal friends. He still looked skeptical. Unsure that the two of them alone could take Sy. Shane thought he was right to be worried.

"Come on, Kyle!" Elliott summoned his friend to the fight.

"I dunno, man. He's a soldier and I mean…look at him. Look at us!"

"You pussy." Elliott walked up to Sy.

"You don't want to do this, friend." Sy warned.

"I'm not your friend, asshole. You stole my girlfriend." he swung wildly at the larger man, but missed. He was unsteady, Shane could see now, from excessive drink. She hadn't noticed inside.

Sy remained still for one punch that landed weakly on his jaw, barely displacing it. "Are you done, there, Mayweather? We even? Now that you got to hit me?"

"We are not done. Not until one of us is on the ground." Elliott insisted.

"Fair enough." Sy socked him with a jab straight to the nose, knocking him dizzily to the hard asphalt of the parking lot. Kyle came up to him to drag Elliott to a nearby car as his head lolled forward like a rag doll.

"I'll get him to the ER. Explain to them what happened. You guys get home safe. And thanks for not killing him. Or me." Kyle said as he opened his passenger door. Sy helped heave Elliott's comatose form into the seat and shook Kyle's hand.

Shane's eyes were still wide at the entire chain of events. Her adrenaline supercharged from her readiness to fight alongside her man. Which, she was both relieved and disappointed that she didn't have to do. But there was another thing on her mind. She had been mentally replaying what Sy had said to Elliott played over and over for more reasons than his chivalrous and heroic conduct.

When they were in the car and headed to her house, Shane asked him about it.

"So…you called me your girlfriend tonight." she looked at him.

"Shit, Shane, I'm sorry. I've been wanting to ask ya for days to make things official, and I just haven't found the right time. I was gonna ask you over drinks tonight in front of all your friends, but then that asshole fucked it all up. I even have a gift for you." he fished around in his pocket for a small, flat box, and handed it to her. She flipped up the spring loaded lid of the black velvet box, and inside, on a tiny pillow of black satin was a silver necklace with a silver charm. An "S" in an elaborate script with a small emerald set in the lower hook of the letter. "And if you don't want to make it official, you can still keep the necklace, because the 'S' can be for 'Shane,' and the stone can just be an emerald, and ya don't have to think about it like it's my birthstone, and I--"

"Sy, hush. Of course I want to be your girlfriend, officially. I've been dying to say it myself. And I love the necklace. It's perfect."

"Really? You mean it? All of it?" she'd never seen him so desperate. She had no idea why he thought she might not be serious. But she did have an idea of how to prove it.

"Stay with me tonight, Sy."

"It's still early yet, babe. I'll have plenty of time--"

"No, I mean, I want you. Tonight." How could she be more clear than that?

"Oh, you mean…but I thought you wanted to wait until my treatments were over?" He asked, as if he didn't want to get his hopes up just yet.

"When you were on the phone with my boss that day, you said something that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. Something that's gnawed at my will and resolve ever since. You said that life was too short, and you didn't want to wait to be happy when you could be happy now." she was verging on tears. "Well, I'm tired of waiting too, Sy. You make me happier than I've ever been, and I don't see the point in ignoring what we really want anymore. Because the fact is, Sy…the fact has been for a while now," she laughed at her own foolishness for stifling and ignoring it all this time, "I love you. And I think I have from the moment you first called me ma'am." She was fully crying now, and the tears had broken through down his cheeks, as well.

He pulled into her driveway and jumped out of his truck, still running, headlights blazing into her yard. He jogged around the front, but Shane, being uninjured had caught up to him without the benefit of a head start. He caught her up in his arms as if she'd stay there forever. They sobbed tears of joy and relief as they kissed each other with abandon, silhouettes against the footlights and exhaust courtesy of the Ford Motor Company, the PowerStroke engine roaring a soundtrack for this moment as it idled.

"I love you, Shane. From the moment you found me dreading therapy all alone that first day and cheered me up instantly. I knew." he brush the tears and hairs away from her face and held it, scrutinizing her features in the high-beams as if he intended to draw her from memory.

"I didn't know you were dreading it." she laughed, lightening the mood a bit.

"I was. A lot. Never had a lot of luck, especially recently, with PT. Until you."

She smiled, and looked at the truck, a third party to their romantic moment now more obvious to her.

"You're wasting gas."

"Hang the gas. I'm wasting time with you. You wanna go inside?" he asked. She nodded.

"You go get your purse. I'll be right around."

Sy shut off the truck and took his keys out, locking the vehicle from the fob after his arm was back around Shane and they were walking up her front porch steps.

Up Next: Chapter 10- Myofascial Release

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #syverson smut #sigh for sy #Smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc

82 notes · View notes

tuiccim · 4 years

Text

Santi (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 4538

Warnings: Fluff, flirt, Smut

Summary: While the team is still gone on their mission, you (Santi) and Bucky get called on for your own.

Santi Masterlist

You managed a few hours of sleep. When you wake up you see the knife dried with some of your blood on the nightstand. You slip on some shorts and take the knife with you to the kitchen, wash it, and then start making coffee.

"Good morning." You hear from behind. You turn to see Bucky in a tank and grey sweatpants looking rested.

"Good morning. How did you sleep after…?" You leave the question unfinished.

"Best I've slept in a while. A long while. Took a lot of effort to get out of bed." He smiles and your heart flip flops. He looks so content.

"I'm glad."

"What about you? You seem like you're still tired."

"I'm good. I've never really been able to sleep well." You shrug. Bucky notices his knife on the counter, picks it up and looks at it, then looks at you. You raise an eyebrow, "Thought you'd want it back."

"Yeah. It's my favorite." He twirls it in his hand.

"I figured. Being under your pillow and all." You smirk, "Boys and their toys."

"I stabbed you." You hear the sadness in his voice.

"Buck, it's fine. I'm fine. And that stays between us."

He looks at you but his face is still sad.

"Besides," you continue, "Nat's been telling me I needed a good stabbing lately. Course, I don't think that's exactly what she had in mind." You laugh darkly.

Bucky's face is unreadable as you turn to pull two mugs down for coffee. When you turn back around you are blocked by a wall of Bucky. You look up into his stern face. "It was just a joke, Bucky. You can laugh."

"Why'd you pull away last night?"

You knew exactly what he meant but something in you wanted to be coy, "I didn't. What do you mean?"

"Fine. Why'd you pull up, then? Kissed my forehead."

You bit your lip, "I… you...I had just imbued you. It can be confusing. For everyone."

"I wasn't confused." Bucky was staring a hole through you and at that moment his eyes flickered to your mouth for just a moment.

"But I was." You said quickly, "I wasn't sure if it was the emotional high or the fear from the nightmare. My empathic abilities have wreaked havoc in the past. I want to be sure a kiss is about me, not just the heat of the moment. And I...I couldn't tell."

"What about right now?" He says. Those blue eyes challenging you while still remaining soft. You could scarcely breathe. Bucky had moved closer and closer as you had talked. There was barely an inch between your bodies. His face hovered just above yours.

FRIDAY chimes in, "Agent Delarosa."

You take a deep breath. "You're timing sucks, FRIDAY." Santi says, keeping eye contact with Bucky

"My apologies. Priority One communication."

Separating yourself from Bucky, you smooth your hair before saying, "On screen."

Maria Hill's image appears, "Agent Delarosa. Sergeant Barnes."

"Agent Hill." You say suspiciously, knowing only one reason could be behind a call from her. You had a grudging respect for Maria but the two of you had never been overly friendly.

Hill begins immediately, "A top priority mission has come up. We believe we've found a Hydra base containing operations intel. Security looks minor. The two of you should be able to clear it. I've sent the information to you. Good luck."

You glance back at Bucky who nods affirmation of acceptance. "Yeah, sure. We'll go. Sounds like fun." You say sarcastically to Hill.

"Is there a problem, Agent?"

"Captain Rogers is gonna be pissed."

"Can't be helped. Check in. 36 hours"

"You got it, kid."

"Ag…"

"FRIDAY, Screen off." You cut Hill off. Doesn't hurt to remind her you have 20 years more experience occasionally. You turn to Bucky, grabbing him by the tank, you pull him flush against you. Looking up into his incredibly blue eyes you say, “Conversation to be continued?”

“Yeah, Doll.”

“Good. We've got a mission. Suit up. Quinjet, 20 minutes."

"You're kinda hot when you're all business." Bucky surprises you by saying.

“Only kinda?” You say with a smirk before heading to your room to change.

15 minutes later you board the quinjet. Bucky is already there and has begun preflight. You stow your gear and head towards the cockpit. Bucky looks up and gives you a slow once over. He’s not seen you in your tactical gear before which include a tight suit, boots, holster with guns at your hips and a selection of knives. You give a slow turn to ensure he gets a full view.

“Do I pass muster, Sergeant Barnes?” You say with hands on hips.

Bucky’s eyes say it all but his gravelly voice is even more telling. “Definitely hot when you're all business."

You let out a small giggle. "Let's hit it."

Once in the air and the autopilot set, Bucky relaxes in his chair. You look over to find him staring at you. "Nervous?" You say.

He rolls his shoulders, "I'm…I'm not sure."

"I'm always a little nervous." You say looking at your tablet. "Hopefully, the intel is right. It doesn't look like more than half a dozen guards. The base is small."

"Do you have a schematic?"

"Yeah. Looks like our best point of entry is to go through this side door. It leads to the center of the base and connects to the main corridors."

"What is the main target?"

"Computer system at the center of the base. Then a general sweep for any unknowns. We should be able to turn and burn. Probably beat the team back. Speaking of, I should call Steve. He's gonna flip."

Bucky gives you a look that clearly says better you than me. You dial Steve saying under your breath "Don't pick up, don't pick up, don't pick up." Bucky chuckles as Steve picks up on the third ring.

"Hey, Santi."

"Hey, Steve. How's the mission going?"

"So far, so good. We are still on track to be home tomorrow. How is Bucky doing?"

"Hey Buck, Steve wants to know how you're doing."

"Tell the punk I'm fine." Bucky grumbles good naturedly.

"He says he's fine, punk." You laugh.

"Sounds like the jerk." Steve says.

"Yeah, so, gotta call from Hill."

"What? Why?" You can hear Steve's mind go into overdrive

"Quick mission. We are heading to grab some intel." You breeze.

"What!?!" Steve's voice is hard.

"I heard that all the way over here." Bucky smirks from the cockpit.

"Yeah, he's heartbroken that I'm taking your virginity on this one." You sass to Bucky and hear Steve practically choke through the phone.

"Santi!" Steve says in his aggravated tone. "Why did you accept?"

"Oh, yeah, like there was a way to turn it down. Plus, Barnes is the one that accepted." You say.

"Me?" Bucky reacts.

"You nodded. It's all your fault" You call to Bucky before turning back to the phone, "He takes full responsibility, Steve. Steve?...Steve I can hear you pulling your hair out over the phone. Stop!"

"What's the mission?" Steve asks.

"Don't worry I'm taking it easy on the first timer over here." You say grinning.

Bucky pipes up, "Hardly my first mission, Santi."

"I'll be gentle with him, Steve. I know how hard the first time back in the saddle can be. I'll return him without a scratch." You give Bucky a shit eating grin while he shakes his head.

"Santi!" Steve's aggravated voice.

"Small base. Turn and burn. Intel sweep. No biggie. Chill. I got your boy. I'll check in tomorrow. Bye."

"Be safe." Steve grouses.

"You got it, Cap." Ending the call, you turn to Bucky. "That wasn't so bad."

"That mouth of yours." Bucky chuckles.

"What about it?" You say innocently.

Bucky looks at your smile for a minute before his eyes flicker up to yours. "It's gonna get you into some dangerous situations."

"Oh but it gets me out of so many. What can I say? I have a very limber tongue." You say with a knowing grin.

"I look forward to testing that out." Bucky shifts in his chair.

"Uncomfortable?" Your eyes linger on his thick thighs.

"Let's just say the space is getting a little tight in here."

You chuckle, "Well, as much as I would love to continue this conversation we best get back to work. We need to go over everything and agree on tactics."

"You got it, Doll." Bucky shifts again in his seat but turns his attention to the tablet you're holding. Two hours later you're in the back of the quinjet triple checking the supplies. Finding everything in order you head back to the cockpit. "How are we looking?"

"Closing in." Bucky says.

"You've got the landing coordinates in?"

"Yes."

"Is stealth ready?"

Bucky eyes you, remaining silent.

"Sorry." You say taking a deep breath. "I start to get keyed up and tend to micromanage."

"It's cute, Doll. Everything's ready. Is it me making you nervous?"

"No." You say with a shake of your head.

"Because I know we've never worked together before."

"It's not that. It's just me. I'm always like this before a mission. I'll mellow out by the time we get there." You flash him a nervous smile while bouncing on the balls of your feet. Might as well let him see your quirks now. "You should have seen me the first time I was on mission with Clint and Natasha. They were like a well oiled machine together and here I am a bundle of nerves. I think Nat might have tied me to a chair if Clint hadn't been there. Nat will tell you the story at some point but she says before we got there it was like I'd never been on a mission before and it wasn't until after we landed she saw the seasoned vet come out."

"Well, we're almost there. It’s a trek to the base once we set down."

"Everything's ready." You felt the quinjet adjust trajectory and knew it must be approaching the landing space. Bucky turns back to the controls and watches as the jet approaches a clearing in the heavily wooded area. As soon as you land you both begin securing the jet and then carefully step out onto the terrain. After ensuring the area is secure Bucky nods his head in the direction you need to move and you follow.

After a while you spot the base and make out the entrance you had indicated on the schematic. One guard stood sentry by the post. Looking over to Bucky you see him take aim at the guard with his sidearm but you hold up your hand with a slight shake of your head. Instead you take out a small taser disc he immediately recognizes. However, Bucky looks at you, shakes his head and motions with the firearm. You stare at each other for a minute. A battle of wills going on before you fling the disc at the camera over the door. The guard looks up surprised and Bucky takes his shot. Together, you carefully make your way to the door.

"Thought we should get rid of the camera before the guard." You smile slyly at him.

"I was going to take them both out with one shot." He grins at you for just a moment.

"Right." You say while rolling your eyes.

Bucky hauls the guard up and places his thumb on the door scanner. It flashes green allowing your entrance. Inside it's quiet and dim. You take the lead and slowly make your way down the hall. Nearing the main corridors you spot another camera and fling a second disc at it. You round the corner and find yourself suddenly flying through the air slamming your right shoulder into the opposite wall. You fall to the ground stunned. The behemoth that threw you looks down at you but suddenly drops as a bullet tears through his skull.

"Santi, are you alright?"

"Fuck. Are there any more coming?" You struggle to your feet.

"No. Are you alright?" Bucky says insistently.

"My shoulders dislocated. I need you to put it back in place." You grimace as your arm dangles.

"Shit." Bucky eyes your arm.

"I'll be fine. Just gotta get it back in." You grab one of your knives and bite down on the grip. Nodding to Bucky, he takes your arm and expertly snaps it into place. You internalize your scream as much as possible. After a few moments you take the knife from your mouth and put it back in place, breathing heavily. Bucky has one arm holding out his gun to protect you and another holding you steady as your breathing returns to normal. "Fuck, that hurts everytime."

"Shit, I'm sorry." Bucky says.

"It's fine. It'll be completely healed in another minute." Rolling your shoulder, you wince and grab your gun. "Two down. Let's go."

Bucky nods and takes point. You make quick work of the remaining guards but remain on alert. When you enter the center of the base you cross quickly to the computer bank and begin work.

"Know what you're doing?" Bucky jokes.

"Vaffanculo." You smirk.

"The mouth on you." He laughs.

"This is gonna take a few." You murmur as you work through the intel. Bucky remains vigilant while examining the rest of the room.

"Got it." You say pulling the thumb drive from the port. You click through the security feed to see if any threats or areas of interest pop up. "Bucky, there's something in storage. Off the southwest corridor."

"Let's go." He says. Both moving quickly you head to the storage room and find it lined with boxes. Bucky breaks the first one open and you look inside.

"This is all Chitauri weapons and armor."

"You sound disappointed." Bucky says.

"Would've preferred something interesting." You shrug.

"What should we do with it?" Bucky asks.

"Destroy it." You say. "We'll hit the base from the quinjet. Take the whole thing out."

"You sure?" He says.

"Standard order for finds like this. We don't want it and we don't want anyone else to have it." You head out the door and Bucky follows. Back at the quinjet, Bucky fires everything up while you set coordinates for the base destruction. The quinjet lifts off and once you reach a fair distance you see the base become a ball of fire.

"Turn and burn." You say as you and Bucky watch it for a moment. Bucky sets the autopilot and you both sit back in the pilot chairs to relax for a few minutes. You turn to him, "Congrats on your first mission."

"How's the shoulder?" He asks.

"Did something happen to my shoulder?" You ask mockingly.

"You heal but it still hurts, huh?" Bucky looks over at you.

"Yup." You say quietly.

"Is there anything you can't heal?"

"Not that I've found yet. I've been shot, stabbed, poisoned. Even took a bullet to the heart and still healed." You shrug. "Never been shot in the head though. That might be the one thing that can end me. I don't know."

"Let's not test it out." Bucky raises an eyebrow at you.

You laugh, "Not planning on it. I'm starving. You want some food?"

"Yeah. That'd be great."

You head to the back of the quinjet to rummage around for the protein bars and two plums you had thrown in your pack. Bucky smiled as you handed him two of the bars and a plum.

"Sorry it's not a nicer dinner." You say as you take your seat again.

"It'll work for now. Maybe I can take you to a nicer dinner?" Bucky blushes a bit as he looks over at you.

"You asking me on a date?" You smile at him.

"Yeah, Doll. You accepting?"

"Yes, sir, Sergeant. I'd be delighted." You grin at him.

"Steve said the team will be back tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"How about the next day?" Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

"I like the way you think, Sargeant. Give time for everyone to debrief and settle." Good God, looking at the man was making you hot. You question if you've ever been as attracted to someone. Not jumping him was gonna be hard. Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips and you bite down on your lower lip as you look into his eyes.

"Doll, don't do that."

"What?"

He just stares at your mouth for a minute.

You smile wickedly. "This?" You repeat the action and he groans."Why, Sergeant, are you having impure thoughts about me?"

"Doll, I've been having impure thoughts about you since I saw you bite into that plum when we first met."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Me, too."

"Really?"

Quickly, you maneuver yourself onto your knees in your seat and, leaning over the console, pull Bucky in for a kiss. Your mouths meld and tongues dance as fire rips through both of you. When you manage to pull away, you're both breathless for a minute. "Really, really." You whisper against his lips.

"That mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me."

You grin, "Don't worry I know mouth to mouth." You both chuckle as you pull together for another kiss.

After a minute you pull away and sit back down with a stupid grin on your face. Looking at him you're a little scared of the feelings welling up in you and whether Bucky was feeling the same way. You had gone from 0 to 100 quickly. Was it too fast? The old temptation to slip into his mind and decipher his emotions was strong and you had to fight it. It wasn’t right. Not without his consent. It was a violation. You didn’t care when it came to the enemy, but it was a matter of trust when it came to friends. He was staring out the windshield as you sat there pondering and studying his profile. He is so beautiful. Take it as it comes, Santi, you remind yourself.

“You gonna fall asleep on me? “ You joke.

“I’m a little too worked up to sleep.” He says with a wink.

“We have a little over an hour left til we’re back. I’m gonna try to get the mission report done if you have no objections.”

“Doing the paperwork for the mission? Nope, not gonna object at all.” He grins.

You laugh, “You’ll still have to read and sign it.”

“No problem.”

You get to work and by the time the jet is descending Bucky has reviewed and signed off on the report. He jokingly comments on your omission of your shoulder dislocation and glowing description of his work.

“I figured I’d make you look good since it was your first mission as an Avenger.” You smirk.

Once the jet lands, you grab your gear. Going over to the console on the wall, you insert the thumb drive and upload the intel that was gathered.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., call Maria Hill please.” You say.

“Yes, Agent Delarosa.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. responds.

“Hill.” Maria’s face is on screen.

“Hey, kid!” You smirk.

“Agent Delarosa.” Maria deadpans.

“Intel is uploaded. Mission report is filed. That must be a record.”

“Good work, Agent, Sergeant.” Hill nods at both of you.

“Seriously? That’s all you got? Come on, Hill, you gave us 36 hours and we finished in less than a third of the time. Gimme a little love. You know you want to.” You sass Hill and despite herself you see a little smile form.

“Maybe next time. If you stop referring to me as kid.” Maria sasses back.

“You should have more respect for your elders, young lady.” You blow her a kiss and wink as you say, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., screen off.”

Bucky looks as if he is holding back laughter. You smile at him, “Okay. I’m ready to get out of this gear, have a shower, and find some real food. How about you?”

“My shower or yours?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Nice try.” You smirk as you head to the elevator.

“You’re breaking my heart, Doll.” Bucky smirks back.

Forty-five minutes later you meet Bucky in the kitchen and together make a quick dinner. After eating, you both settle on the couch.

“Whatcha wanna watch?” You ask.

“Something funny?” He says.

You smile, “I was thinking the same thing. Have you ever seen Bad Boys? It’s a mix of comedy and action.”

“Sounds good to me.”

You start the movie and within minutes Bucky has grabbed you by the waist to pull you to him. You lean into him and curl your fingers around his metal ones. It feels so right and easy. Bucky seems to love the movie. He laughs and enjoys the action sequences. Occasionally, he murmurs a question in your ear about different references. You had to pause for a minute to explain to him about the show Cops and the song Bad Boys. He seems to appreciate your willingness to explain and patience. When the movie ends, you look over at Bucky to find him staring at you.

“What?” You say smiling. He doesn’t answer but leans in for a kiss. You respond immediately. His lips are so soft and you lose yourself in the feel of them. He shifts closer to you and you feel his hand on your waist pulling you in. Your tongues seek each other almost desperately. Arching into him, he groans. When you finally separate moments later you are both breathless and staring into each other's eyes.

Bucky is the first to speak, “You know you’re pretty amazing?”

“Yeah? You’re pretty amazing, too.” You press a soft kiss to his lips. Standing up, you hold your hand out to him and he follows you to the elevator. As you hit the button for your floor, you say, “The team will be back tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna have a sleepover on our last night alone?” You look at him feeling nervous and bite your lower lip.

The elevator doors open and Bucky backs you into the hallway wall. “What did I tell you about biting your lip like that?”

“Do it whenever I want to get my way?” You smile at him.

He kisses you. A hard stamp on the lips. “It’s, um, it’s been awhile since i’ve had a sleepover.”

“I’ll go easy on ya.”

“Not too easy, Doll.”

You lead Bucky to your room and pull him in for a kiss as you back both of you to the bed. He brings his hands up to cup your face and pulls away to look into your eyes. "Are you sure, Doll?"

Wordlessly, you lift your arms up so he can easily remove your shirt. He tosses it to the side and pulls his own off. Gently, he lays you back on the bed and melds his mouth to yours. Your hands travel over his hard chest feeling the muscles ripple before making their way to his waist where you pull his body even closer to you. He groans into your mouth as he lifts you slightly to unfasten your bra and slip it off your arms. You lay back with your arms above your head as he stares down at you.

"You're gorgeous, Doll. All of you." He says before lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth. You suck in a breath as he lavishes attention on your breasts.

"Ohhhh...Bucky," you whisper as he slowly moves his hands to the waistband of your leggings and pauses, "yes."

He pulls your leggings and panties off as you reach to undo his pants. Pushing his pants down his legs he is already hard and you’ve barely touched him. You put a hand to his chest and push him down onto the bed. You devour him with your eyes and slowly slide hands down to his cock. He hisses with jaw clenched when you touch him. Unable to resist, you wrap your lips around his head and swirl your tongue. His hands go to your hair as he urges you on. You take him as deep as you can and listen to his moans as you work your tongue against him. Wrapping one hand around his base to work him and using the other to palm his balls, you continue to work him.

“Fuck, Doll. That mouth of yours.” Bucky groans as he gently pulls you away and devours your mouth with his. His hand trails down your body and he presses against your core feeling the slickness. “So wet for me already.” he says as he presses kisses along your neck. His fingers slide across your slick folds skimming your clit before moving down to press a finger into you. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the sensation. Encouraged, Bucky adds a second finger while using his thumb to press your clit.

“Bucky.” You moan his name as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Doll, want inside you so bad.” Bucky says,, “Can’t wait.”

“Yes.” You say quickly. Bucky removes his fingers and rolls himself on top of you with a searing kiss. You feel him line up with your entrance and then agonizingly slow he pushes in.

“I thought your mouth was going to kill me, but you're so tight. So wet.” Bucky groans.

You slide your hands to his ass and press him forward encouraging him on. “Feels so good, Bucky.”

Once he fully buries himself he stills for a moment pressing his forehead to yours. “You okay?”

“So fucking okay.” You wrap your legs around him and encourage him to move. He begins to slowly work himself in and out. Each thrust nearly takes your breath away. You feel the pleasure coiling inside of you. “Harder.” you whisper to Bucky and it’s as if he needed the permission to let go. His hips begin to slam into you. “Yes, yes.” You can’t stop the moans escaping your lips. Bucky’s fingers dig into your sides as he continues thrusting.

“You’re so perfect, Doll. So fucking perfect. I’m so close.” Bucky groans into your ear as he fastens his lips to the side of your neck. His words propel you over the edge. Your body clenches around his cock and you cry out his name. His hips stutter as he reaches his own release with a moan.

Bucky rolls to his side and pulls you to him pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Was I gentle enough?” you tease.

“No, I think you broke me.” He laughs. “That was uh, the first time in a while for me. I didn’t mean to be in such a hurry but you got me so worked up, Doll.”

“Hey.” You kiss him. “I didn’t mind. You got me all worked up, too.”

“How long before I can get you worked up again?” He asks, nuzzling your ear.

“You just say the word, Sergeant.”

“Now.”

“Thank God.” You push him up against the headboard and straddle him. He seals his mouth to yours. Feeling his already growing arousal against you, you know you're in for a long, satisfying night.

Part 4

187 notes · View notes

flying-elliska · 3 years

Note

Okay, I'm reading Chap18, and I really hope this comment won't hurt your feelings because I love your fic and I really just want to understand why you wrote it this way, but I have to tell you that for the first time I've been disapointed with Diamants AU. I already felt it was going this way with Daphné, Arthur, Vallès, Emma and Alexia being LGBT, but I kind of felt betrayed with the Yann/Alex thing, and now I'm sensing Manon and Daphné will be together at some point too and ...(1)

...I don't understand why you made all your characters LGBT. I get that they are under-represented in most of the books and shows, but with Diamants I'm kind of feeling like being staight is a bad thing, like it's either boring or you're juste an asshole. I've always loved Skam because it shows that very different people can be friends and help each other no matter their religion, sexuality... and this kind of felt like the only reason they stand together is they're all LGBT (2) and I guess this comes from personal experience but that would have been so much more powerful to have straight people being as much invested in this war as the others. Honestly I don't see the point of Yann, Alex, Emma, Manon or Arthur not being straight, for me it doesn't bring more to who they are. This really feels like they would be nothing if they were straight. So I juste wanted to ask you why you decided this? Again, really hope this won't hurt you... (3/3)

hey anon. So, I’m going to assume this comes from a place of good faith and a sincere desire to understand, and explain my choices. That said, I do have to say that even though it didn’t really hurt me (it mostly made me laugh), it did make me a little angry too, because there are a lot of harmful implications in your messages.

1) First of all, about you “not seeing the point” of making certain characters LGBT. This functions under the assumption that there needs to be a reason for people to be gay, bi, trans, etc - and that straight people are the default. That is...really not great. People are gay in real life, for no reason whatsoever. If you don’t go to writers asking why they made their characters straight if there is no reason in the story, you shouldn’t do this either. Characters can be queer without it being a big part of the story - it’s just a part of them, and the idea that they have to ‘deserve a place’ in the narrative through their gayness (often through a deeply tragic arc full of suffering to Educate Straight people) is deeply heteronormative, and fucked up. LGBT people are not in a story to make a point, they’re there because they exist. Yes, some of my characters have arcs that are deeply entangled with their sexuality and struggles with it. Some are not. When it comes to Yann and Alex, I didn’t think too much about it, I thought it would be funny and unexpected and give some good shenanigans. Sometimes that’s all you need.

2) As for turning a majority of the canon straight characters LGBT : listen, in the end, this is my fic, and I do it because I want to. I’m bi and my life is full of queer people. This is my normal, this is what comes naturally to me, and what I find interesting to write about. I set out to write a James Bond parody with some deep character exploration, it’s meant to be a very transformative fic. I have no obligation to stick to any Skam ‘guidelines’. I am also not aiming to write a particularly realistic story, if the secret mobster conspiracy didn’t tick you off already. The ethos of fic is to make canon your playground and to let your imagination go wild. That said, this trope you’re probably used to, of having one or maybe two queer characters and not more in any given story, I would say is the less realistic one. In real life, LGBT people often tend to cluster together, often before they even realize their sexuality, especially as they get older. But a lot of mainstream media is afraid of that because they don’t want to alienate their straight audience, so they don’t show it. I have no such compunctions. Your message seems to imply that there is a limit to how many gay people there should be in a story and I find that deeply offensive. There is incredible relief, peace and power to be found in community, especially after being struggling so much with your sexuality, like Lucas did for instance. I wanted to show that joy in this chapter, and how it plays a part in him slowly letting his walls down.

3) I notice you don’t mention Imane. She’s straight, she’s super invested in this war, she’s neither boring or an asshole, in fact she’s probably the most important character in the fic after Lucas and Eliott. She’s badass and amazing and complex and if you don’t feel she counts as ‘good straight representation’ I find that slightly odd. Is she too ‘other’ for you that you would dismiss her like that ? Also, Basile is straight lmao. There’s plenty of straight people in this fic. And plenty of people who have incredibly different life experiences ; sexuality not being the main one doesn’t change that.

4) I do find it sort of silly that you reduce the characters’ reasons for fighting to being LGBT after I spent like 400k words proving otherwise. Like - Lucas wants to avenge his mother, Eliott wants to take down his father, Imane wants to avenge her father, Daphné wants to steal jewels, Alex and Emma are bored, Alexia’s a good friend (and also bored lol), they’re trying to stop horrible people from doing horrible things, their trajectories are layered and complex and if you tell me that can all be boiled down to ‘they’re gay’ I kind of wonder if you’ve paid attention to what you’ve read at all.

5) All that said, a majority of my characters being LGBT does have a symbolic point. It’s an opposition to the world of the Shadow, which is deeply sexist, heteronormative, homophobic, and macho. It represents how questioning your sexuality can be deeply liberating and often put you at odds with the general structures of power and oppression in society and lead you to question a lot more and find people who want to fight with you. Being LGBT can (but not always) make you more politically conscious and that’s a beautiful thing that deserves to be celebrated. And in general, being a minority makes you more aware of inequality because it’s simply your daily life. So it makes perfect sense that most of these characters who fight against symbols of horrible systemic oppression would be marginalized in some way or other. Straight/cis/white/rich/abled/etc people simply have less reasons to question the status quo. I have sat through so many action movies where all-straight heroes save the day ; I’m sure you can sit through the opposite for once. If you can’t, maybe it’s a failure of empathy or imagination on your part.

6) Imagine growing up and never seeing, around you or on TV or in books or movies, someone who shares your sexuality. Or if you ever see somebody like you, they will be a joke, a punchline, deluded, instable, doomed, or worse, a predator. Imagine the sort of damage that does. Imagine that when you finally find some correct representation, you have to make do with crumbs for years. Imagine it gets slowly better, but it’s still overwhelmingly tragic, or incorrect, or stereotypes, or only told after the story is over, or you’re always the best friend, always the minority, the point of interest there to educate, always there to struggle, never the epic breathtaking romance, never centered, never allowed community and to see yourself as the norm. In the best of cases, your identity is more or less ignored. In the rare cases where you find good representation, shows get cancelled prematurely, or your faves never get as much screen time as the straight ones, or storylines get botched because somehow writers think showing queer characters happy has no value. Imagine then you decide to take matters in your own hands and write the sort of queer utopia that makes you truly happy - the one where you’re surrounded with people like you and you don’t have to constantly feel isolated and otherized and you’re badass and don’t have to take any shit and your love story is the epic one that gets centered and you have friends who understand and share your experience. And then imagine someone, instead of taking a deep breath and going back to like, 99% of all media ever made, randomly comes to you and tells you they feel ‘betrayed’ because in this one paltry little fic you wrote, their mainstream experience is not centered like usual. Tell me, how would that feel ?

Again, I don’t bear you any ill will, but your message comes across as ignorant and very entitled. I am open to feedback and criticism but writing a story full of LGBT people is one thing I will never feel sorry for. There are a shit ton of fics out of there where those characters are straight, not to mention canon. If you feel ‘betrayed’ by the amount of queer characters in my fic, then I’d say you have some biases you need to examine. It reminds me of all the times I’ve heard people say that they ‘like gay people but only if they’re not too in your face’ (lol that was my sister, so fun) - this implication that queer people should know their place, never show their difference too openly, accept being a minority in all spaces, need to ‘deserve’ their spot, center straight people’s needs, etc etc...is deeply harmful and toxic.

If you can’t understand all this, then my writing is probably not for you.

#diamants!au #lgbt #lgbt representation #fandom #queer representation

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florencecastlewritings · 4 years

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Writing Dialogue

Below the read more is a lesson on writing effective dialogue in fiction. As with everything in art, rules are there to be broken, so please do treat the below lesson as a guideline rather than a legal document, and remember that it is based on what works for me as well as advice I have received from other writers. It might not match your style, and that’s all right. It’s also a very lengthy blog post, but I have used headings to try and break it up and there’s a little contents of sorts at the start, so feel free to skim/skip where needed.

If you do find it useful, however, please consider helping me through a tricky time by sending a few pennies my way via ko-fi.

Dialogue is the written speech of your characters in your story. For some people, writing effective dialogue comes naturally, for others it feels almost impossible to master. It is worth considering, as well, the differences in dialogue for different kinds of media - in screenwriting, for example, a writer will be able to rely more heavily on actors’ expression, comic timing, body language and other effects such as music. However they will also be constrained by shorter time, more need for unnatural exposition, and lack of internal thoughts. The following lesson will focus on dialogue in fiction - for short stories or novels - although some rules will be applicable to dialogue in other mediums too, so they’re worth keeping in mind.

The Purpose of Dialogue

Dialogue should:

Progress the story

Deepen character and relationship

Have realism

Be embellished/supported with suitable dialogue tags and appropriate narration.

Easier said than done. Let’s take them one at a time.

Progress the story

As with most writing, the writer needs to be constantly asking herself ‘what is the point?’ Why am I having my characters say/do/notice this? It may be to deepen character and relationship (and we’ll get onto that), but for longer stories we must acknowledge that the dialogue needs to move the plot along as well, as much as we might want to indulge in a bit of pointless fluff now and then.

Dialogue can drive the plot in a more engaging and exciting way than plain narration. Narration on its own can be effective at building tension, but usually only in small doses, and having many pages of narration without dialogue or internal thought will feel more like a summary of events or a witness statement than the author would perhaps like. Consider the below:

Breakfast was tense that morning. They ate silently as they pondered what to do. Michael buttering his toast so aggressively that it was surprising that the knife didn’t go through it. Susan asked him to stop, but that only started the arguing again. He accused her of expecting him to get over the affair so quickly. She threw back that there was nothing left to say if he refused to get therapy, and she had warned him for years that things had to change, and that it had been one foolish night in twenty years of unhappy marriage. She, Susan insisted, had excused plenty of foolish mistakes on his part.

Compared to:

‘Will you stop that?’ she said sharply. Michael did not pause in the furious buttering of his toast. ‘I said I was sorry.’

‘What, you say the magic word and I’m meant to shrug it off?’ he replied. ‘Pretend it never happened? Pretend you didn’t-’

‘You’ve made your anger perfectly clear, and I understand, but you don’t need to be so aggressive with everything, I get it.’

‘Oh, here we go. Buttering toast is aggressive now.’

‘Well, yes, like that - I’ve tried to talk to you like a grown up, but-’

‘It really bloody winds me up when you just say insane stuff patiently and without emotion and think that makes it acceptable, d’you know that? I’m allowed to be angry, you cheated.’

I could continue. The first example can pack a lot more information in, but using dialogue to drive the plot makes for more interesting and deeper meaning. It turns it into a story, rather than an account of events that occurred. It allows the writer to layer the plot with character work and unlock the story a little at a time.

In this regard, it is good to have your characters talking. To each other, to themselves, to the reader - whatever your particular style demands. Having that personable voice is engaging.

There are a few “rules” to keep in mind in order to ensure you remain plot-focused with your dialogue:

Avoid small talk. Enter late, leave early. Naturally there are exceptions (if you want to emphasise the awkwardness of a relationship between two characters you might want to include some failed attempts at small talk), but the usual chit-chat and extended greetings that we are used to saying in every day life can normally be skipped or avoided. You don’t need to have lots of ‘hi, how are you?’ ‘I’m fine thanks, you?’ ‘Fine, cheers. Have you seen the rain?’ Your characters are allowed to just get to the point and your reader will thank you for it.

Have characters on their own thought trajectories. This is a great way of driving the plot, and though it can be tricky to master it can really help in making your characters believable individuals as well as creating some conflict. If characters know each other, or both know the topic, they will likely jump ahead, make assumptions, fail to answer each other directly - this can be a great way of showing that they’re on the same wavelength, but can also be a vehicle for miscommunications and misunderstandings, or deliberately misleading one another. In that vein, don’t have the characters telling each other things they already know, unless made to sound believable.

Similarly, don’t have characters say things solely for the benefit of the reader. This is called exposition, and while exposition is necessary, it can be clumsily handled in dialogue. It’s made fun of frequently in films where they have such limited time to get background information across. You definitely don’t want dialogue like ‘So, Michael, it’s been three years since your divorce, have you thought about dating again?’ Michael knows this, his insensitive friend knows this, the reader is not stupid and knows that it’s not natural sounding. If it must be said in dialogue, weave it into a more natural conversation - ‘I haven’t been to Ibiza in three years, and I don’t plan on going back any time soon. Don’t want to run the risk of bumping into Susan and Jorge.’

We’ll get onto weaving it in with narration and dialogue tags later, which makes that a lot easier, but, in short, use dialogue to drive your story.

Deepen character and relationship

This is my favourite thing to do, and why I often prefer to write shorter stories than longer ones. A writer can find great joy in bringing a character to life through dialogue, dragging them away from plot vehicles and making them people of their own.

Firstly, it’s important to remember that your character’s background and personality will affect the way that they speak. If all your characters sound the same, they probably sound like you! A well educated character will obviously have a different way of talking than a common street urchin, but everyone has quirks and patterns to their speech that you can use to say a lot. You might use long meandering sentences with lots of rhetorical questions for a character known to be boring, for example. You might use short, sharp sentences for a character that’s grumpy or distracted with some deeper internal struggle. You can use the way two characters talk to each other to say a lot about their relationship and power dynamic, especially if you remember that good dialogue should have subtext (what isn’t being said being important).

A good example of this is from the short story Hills Like White Elephants, by Ernest Hemmingway (CW; indirect discussion of abortion). Consider the short passage below.

‘It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,’ the man said. ‘It’s not really an operation at all.

The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on.

‘I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s not really anything. It’s just to let the air in.’

The girl did not say anything.

‘I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.’

‘Then what will we do afterward?’

‘We’ll be fine afterward. Just like we were before.’

‘What makes you think so?’

‘That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of two of the strings of beads. ‘And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.’

It’s a really interesting story that is almost entirely dialogue, so it’s well worth reading to get a good sense of using subtext. I wasn’t aware of the abortion connotations when I first read it because I hadn’t heard of the very dated term ‘letting the air in’, but really the story is great at demonstrating the uneven power dynamic between the two even without knowledge of what the operation is. Without much description (though ‘man’ and ‘girl’ says it all really, doesn’t it?), you get a sense that a much older man is persuading this reluctant girl into this act by leveraging how hopelessly in love she is with him, though he does not seem to feel the same way. He speaks most when he is trying to persuade her - the rest of the time he is snappish and short with her childish and ignorant questions about the world around them. The above passage is the only time in the story where he refers to her by a name, and we can gather that it’s a pet one. The girl’s silence says as much as her dialogue, and when she does speak it is questioning - looking to him for authority.

Understanding character motivations and background is what makes this masterful use of dialogue. It would be tempting, for a novice writer, to have the girl argue. For her to say something like ‘what if we could be happy without it?’ But where that should be, there is silence, or repeating his thoughts back to him - because Hemmingway is not only driving the story but emphasising the imbalance of their relationship and her own naive nature. She would not argue with him, she can only wish that he will change his mind. This is all through dialogue and a tiny bit of narration, barely any dialogue tags, and really says so much without saying it at all. Show vs tell is about more than description after all.

That kind of depth when it comes to writing dialogue is... really hard. I haven’t picked Hemmingway to suggest that this is the quality all writing should be at, and I certainly don’t mean to intimidate anyone. But it really is a golden example of thinking about your dialogue within the context of the character, and how their background, situation, and goals will affect how they respond and react to those around them. Your character may not always be able to say what is convenient for you, the author, to tell the reader, because it may not be in their nature or sound authentic. But there are clever ways around that and it can make for more powerful writing, between the lines of what is said.

Have realism

If you skipped down to this bit, I understand. It’s the area that people most often struggle with. I find that people tend to fall into two traps here - either their characters sound like robots because they are over formal and have too much emphasis on being grammatically correct or over eloquent at the expense of natural dialogue, OR they swing in the other direction and try to replicate perfectly how people speak in day to day life.

If you do have a problem with stilted dialogue, it is a good idea to listen to how people naturally speak and try typing it out to get yourself out of the habit. But on the whole, the way people normally speak actually doesn’t sound that great in written format. In real life, we use lots of filler words, we get muddled, we go off on tangents, we trail off, we stutter and stammer and phrase things badly, we um and ah and say far more with our body language and expression than we realise. If you ever read transcripts, from interviews or courts, you’ll see how much of it actually doesn’t make a lot of sense. Our brains make sense of it when we listen to others, based on other parts of communication. Yes, sometimes adding in a ‘er...’ is beneficial and good, and you might have a really nice character moment of someone anxious trailing off when they realise no one is listening to them. Sprinkling those moments in can absolutely make your dialogue sound more authentic, especially when carefully used with character knowledge, but be careful not to over use it. In written dialogue, our characters can and should be more articulate and quicker to formulate their thoughts than in real life for the sake of the story. Striking that balance between overly structured and too real and easy can be really hard, but it only comes with practice - reading dialogue out loud can be a big help, as can writing the dialogue first with no narration or speech tags (more on that later).

Some common mistakes when it comes to dialogue:

Having one character speak too long without a break. Monologues are tough to get through as a reader and don’t come up often in real life in any meaningful way. They can end up cheesy or exposition heavy. Occasionally you can get away with it with very particular characters, but in general, avoid.

Over use of names. It’s really distracting as a reader if dialogue is constantly like, ‘what do you think, Harry?’ ‘Charlie, I just don’t know.’ ‘Really, Harry, you need to decide if you’re going to marry her or not.’ ‘I know, you’re right, Charlie.’ Use names to get someone’s attention and then don’t use them again unless you need to make it clear to the reader who the character is talking to.

Not using contractions. Even very formal people use contractions such as don’t and won’t, it is part of natural rapid speech. Save the ‘do not’ and ‘will not’s for when the emphasis is really needed.

Having characters speak in unison. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes this can be used to hilarious effect and can always be used for a bit of comedy. But on the whole people don’t do this, including twins.

Misuse of slang or dialects. If you’re going to use it, make sure you do your research. It’s also worth bearing in mind that if you over use it, it will be hard for the reader to understand and may break immersion.

Over explain for the reader. I mentioned this before but it’s worth repeating. If you went outside right now and saw a UFO, you would probably shout something along the lines of ‘wtf is that?’, and you would perhaps point or scramble for your potato to take a shaky video. You would probably not shout, ‘look at flying saucer! I’ve never seen anything like it!’ Think carefully about realistic reactions, even if they are not particularly convenient to you as a writer.

Over use of exclamation marks/caps lock. People aren’t that vibrant and it’s tiring to read. The less you use it, the more punch it packs.

Using narration and dialogue tags

First, a quick grammar lesson. Sorry.

‘This is some speech.’

‘This is also some speech,’ said the character.

‘Is this also speech?’ asked another.

‘Well,’ said the first, ‘yes.’

‘Brilliant,’ said the other. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

I use single quotation marks because I’m British and annoying, the conventional double quote marks the Americans use (”like this!”) is also correct. The only important thing is that you pick one and stick to it. Quotation marks always surround the words that are being spoken aloud, and must be opened and closed. Where the sentence ends, you must use a full stop (period), or another piece of punctuation like a question or exclamation mark before closing the speech with the marks.

Where there is a dialogue tag (he said/said/replied, etc), the sentence is continuing, so a comma is more appropriate (but you can also use a question/exclamation mark and the sentence still continues), and again this must go before the speech marks close the dialogue. If you want to continue the sentence with the dialogue tag in the middle, you can continue by using another comma, or you can end the sentence with a full stop and continue the dialogue as a new sentence.

Use a new line for a new character speaking.

Phew, that’s over so you can pay attention again. But unfortunately I still have more to say.

Here is a fun little exercise. Take the below dialogue between two characters, A and B.

‘Do you love me?’

‘You’re drunk.’

‘Why won’t you answer the question?’

‘Sit down. I’ll make you a tea.’

‘I don’t want tea, I want an answer! Tell me!’

The dialogue alone already tells us a bit of a story - a picture is probably already forming in your head, perhaps of the characters, perhaps of the setting. As it stands it’s ok, and if you struggle with dialogue it can be effective to write only the dialogue out in this way (this tip from my writing teacher also helped me cut down on purple prose!). But now look at the scene:

It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that Alex was woken at 3am by repeated bangs on the floor and shouts through the letterbox. Nothing else would have made her rise from bed. If she had suspected even for a moment that it was anyone else, she would have called the police.

But as usual, it was Sam. Blonde, tousled hair a mess, eye make up smudged, pouting lips trembling as she swayed.

‘Do you love me?’

‘You’re drunk,’ said Alex, wincing as Sam’s grey eyes shone with tears. ‘You’d better come in.’

‘Why won’t you answer the question?’

Alex ignored her, pulled her in by her slender arm. ‘Sit down. I’ll make you a tea.’

‘I don’t want tea. I want an answer. Tell me!’ Sam’s voice was loud and high, and it pierced her.

So, we haven’t actually added that much narration or dialogue tags (t’s best, if you can, to avoid using them too much), but we’re able to give a clearer picture of these two characters. You may even now be reading the dialogue in a different tone to the one you originally did - picturing the scene with a different feel. Not convinced? How about now?

Yet again, as had happened dozens of bloody times before, Alex was woken at 3am by incoherent, slurred shouting through the letterbox.

‘Do you love me?’ was Sam’s immediate demand as Alex wearily opened the door.

Alex rubbed her hand over her bleary eyes and sighed. ‘You’re drunk. You’d better come in.’

Sam turned on the tears at once, mascara running in thick, spidery lines down her blotchy cheeks. ‘Why won’t you answer the question?’

‘Sit down,’ Alex muttered. ‘I’ll make you a tea.’ She stood aside and jerked her head towards the living room.

‘I don’t want tea, I want an answer! Tell me!’

Wincing once more at her piercing shriek, Alex closed her eyes.

The very same dialogue can be shaped by carefully worded narration and dialogue tags. It’s a fun exercise to do with writing buddies - all use the same dialogue and see how different the stories come out. It can also be a pretty nifty way to challenge writers block or shake up a scene you’re struggling with.

Some extra tips from my writing teacher - I fully confess that I am not always the best at following these ones, because my writing has been heavily influenced by JK Rowling who also doesn’t seem to set much store by them. But they are good, and since I’ve kept them in mind my writing has improved.

Avoid overuse of adverbs (’she said nervously’). Use action or dialogue alone to convey this information instead.

Avoid overuse of verbs besides ‘said’. The reader will skim over said and barely notice it, if every character is whispering and muttering and shouting all the time it stilts the flow of the scene - use sparingly.

Use tags when necessary to ensure clarity as to who is speaking, otherwise let the dialogue stand for itself.

Use internal thoughts in place of speech tags sometimes.

Use action beats (’he turned to stare coldly out of the window’) in place of speech tags sometimes to help set the pace of the scene.

I hope this very lengthy post has helped! Please do get in touch if you have any further questions or would like any elaborations on anything I’ve mentioned here, or if you have suggestions for future lessons!

Lastly, I hate to do this but times must - if you have even just a couple of quid to send my way it would be a massive help to me. If you did find this useful, please consider donating to my kofi.

#Writing advice #writing lessons #writing dialogue

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what-a-treat-nz · 3 years

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World Book Challenge: China

Officially, the People's Republic of China (PRC). It is the world's most populous country, with a population of around 1.4 billion. It covers approximately 9.6 million square kilometers, and is officially divided into 23 provinces, five autonomous regions, four direct-controlled municipalities (Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai, and Chongqing), and the special administrative regions of Hong Kong and Macau.

The areas in dark green are under direct Chinese control; the areas in light green (Tibet and Taiwan) are contested. For the purposes of this challenge, I’m treating China, Tibet and Taiwan as three separate countries. Because I can.

Number of Chinese people in New Zealand: As of the 2013 Census, there were 163,104 people of “Chinese (not further defined)” ethnicity in New Zealand - 10,008 of those were in Wellington City.

Have I been there? Yes! I visited Shanghai with my Dad in December 2011. I bought a really nice coat, had tea that tasted like warm Fanta (it was oddly addictive), and got hugged by Dave Grohl. So, the usual Chinese experiences, really.

I also had Peking Duck for the first time in my life, and holy hell I didn’t know what I was missing. I’ve tried to make up for it by eating copious amounts of it since.

The books

For “China” on my reading challenge, I read three fantasy novels - Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu, and the final two books of the Poppy War trilogy (The Dragon Republic and The Burning God) by R. F. Kuang, a Chinese-American author.

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (魔道祖师 / Mó Dào Zǔ Shī)

(Book 30 of 2021)

Given the fact that I have an entire subsection of my blog about how much I love the live-action TV show based on this book, it probably shouldn’t be a surprise that I had Mó Dào Zǔ Shī at the top of my list of Chinese books to read.

Mó Dào Zǔ Shī tells the story of Wei Wuxian, a loathed cultivator of dark and demonic arts who resurrects 16 years after his tragic death. His return to the world brings him to reunite with the people in his first life, including his soulmate, the honored Lan Wangji (who mourned him for 16 years, during which he branded himself with the same mark as Wei Wuxian and kept his memory alive and I’m okay, I promise). Wei Wuxian then begins to remember his time before his demise 16 years ago, from his beginnings as a young cultivator to his descent to dark magic. Together, they solve a mystery linked to a dark tragedy from Wei Wuxian’s first life, then live happily ever after.

This novel was originally published on the Chinese web novel site JJWXC from October 31, 2015 - March 1, 2016, with additional side stories that continue to be released sporadically. The revised version of the main story was later published online until September 7, 2016. A paperback version was released on December 12, 2016, with a total of four volumes in traditional Chinese. The first of three planned volumes in simplified Chinese, titled Wuji, was released in 2018, but release of the following installments has stalled after the locking of the novel on JJWXC since January 2019.

Mó Dào Zǔ Shī isn’t officially available in English, and given that it depicts an explicit danmei relationship between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, I don’t think we’ll ever see an official version. Though there are official translations into Korean, Thai, Vietnamese, Russian, Japanese, and Burmese, and the tour for the TV traveled to Toronto, Los Angeles and New York, so maybe one day there will be an official translation.

For now though, you can read the entire novel for free at Exiled Rebels Scanlations, where it has been translated in full by a then-highschooler called “K-san”. It’s hard to actually judge the merits of the writing of the original novel, given I was reading an unofficial translation, but that was actually half of the sweetness of it. It was kinda rough - K-san tweaked the terms they used as they gained more confidence with the translation, and I enjoyed reading the translator and editor notes that accompanied most chapters - especially notes such as “we’re translating as fast as we can, stop asking for faster updates!”. It felt really organic and friendly, and the story is good (though much gorier than the TV show and good god boys, learn what lube is, it’ll make your lives better I promise).

I read the book more as a companion to the TV show though, rather than a novel on it’s own merits, so I’m not sure I can judge it as a novel on it’s own merits. Though the book did teach me one very important piece of information: Lan Wangji canonically smells of sandalwood.

Would I read it again? If an official English translation comes out, I’d probably read that. I’m more likely to watch the TV show again, or dive into one of the sesquillion Untamed fanfics on AO3 ( Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn was the most popular ship on AO3 in 2020, with 12,878 new works about these characters being published that year).

The Dragon Republic and The Burning God

(Books 34 and 35 of 2021)

I read The Poppy War and The Dragon Republic back in September 2019 (when I wasn’t counting how many books I was reading, but I did have a record of them), and I decided to re-read The Dragon Republic because I couldn’t exactly remember where the story was up to.

And it’s a good thing I did, as something I thought happened at the end of The Dragon Republic actually happened at the end of The Poppy War, so oops?

The Poppy War trilogy is a grimdark fantasy novel set in fantasy China, with a Chinese protagonist and written by a Chinese-American author. It’s spectacular. The trilogy draws its plot and politics from mid-20th-century China, though it’s atmosphere is more inspired by the Song dynasty. The conflict in the first book is based on the Second Sino-Japanese War (though this time, it’s the Chinese empire against the Japanese empire), in the second on the start of the Chinese civil war (Chinese empire against nascent Republican movement), and in the third on the end of Chinese civil war (Republicans versus not-Republicans).

It’s a massive trilogy. It’s incredibly complex, with a huge scale and massive numbers of characters, though the fact it’s all seen through Rin’s eyes (with the occasional first and last chapter from the point of view of other characters) helps.

The story follows that of Fang Runin, better known as Rin, a poor war orphan in southern Nikara who trains in secret to test into the elite Sinegard Academy. Throughout the trilogy she deals with racism, sexism, elitism...most of the isms, really. Author R.F. Kuang said that Rin's life is meant to parallel the trajectory of Mao Zedong, and I had fun trying to match events in Chinese history to the events in the book (the easiest ones to spot are the Rape of Nanjing, the nuclear bombing of Japan and the Long March).

I don’t remember Mao Zedong having the power to call on a fire god, however. It’s probably a good thing that’s not something that happened in real life China, as Mao’s policies killed enough people without him literally being able to spit fire.

I described the first book as “If Kvothe from The Name of the Wind was female, Chinese, and allowed to say fuck.” Those two books felt really similar to me - they’re very much your “outsider is accepted to elite academy, winds up pissing off most of their classmates and chooses an obscure major to specialise in before being thrown into a conflict they are key to winning.” But honestly, I preferred the Poppy War trilogy, even if the final book did get super dark.

Rin is a really refreshing character, and the world seen through her eyes is a very different place to one I’m used to reading about. Kuang said that she "chose to write a fantasy reinterpretation of China's twentieth century, because that was the kind of story I wasn't finding on bookshelves", and I’m so glad she did. The world needs more books like this. I’m as pasty and as white as they come, and I loved reading a book where the heroine was authentically Chinese. This isn’t a pakeha author trying to fit themselves into someone else’s shoes - this is someone with a deep understanding of Chinese military history and collective trauma using that understanding and pain to build a new fantasy world.

I loved it, and if you can stomach war scenes, I recommend this trilogy.

Will I read the Poppy War trilogy again? I might do. It’s a bit darker and more desperate than I usually read - particularly The Burning God - but I did enjoy them. So that’s a firm “never say never”.

Bonus book!

These Violent Delights

I read NZ-Chinese author Chloe Gong’s These Violent Delights earlier this year (book number 20 of 2021), before I set myself this challenge, so it doesn’t technically count as an entry for “China” in my book challenge. But it is amazing, and I love it, so I wanted to give it a quick shout out here (because if we’re talking fantasy reimaginings of Chinese 20th century history by Chinese diaspora authors...).

These Violent Delights relocates the story of Romeo and Juliet to 1920s Shanghai, casting the two leads as the heirs to rival gangs. It’s brilliant, it’s beautiful, there were sentences that made me stop and gasp for the sheer delight of having read them, and there’s a monster made of bugs driving the citizens of Shanghai insane. The way Gong has woven the characters from the play into their 1920s counterparts is delightful (I say this as someone who’s never actually read the play, though I think I saw the Leonardo DiCaprio movie because it was difficult to be a tween in the late 90s and not be exposed to his films).

15/10, would definitely read it again, it’s been on the New York Times bestseller list for weeks for a very, very good reason. Stop reading this blog and go get a copy. Now.

The feast

I admit, using China as my first country may have been a bit of a cop out, given my familiarity with Chinese food - though, living in a Western country, I’ve probably eaten more Westernised Chinese food than authentic Chinese food.

Which is why I was chuffed to learn that spring rolls are, actually, authentic Chinese food. I always thought they were a Westernisation, like sweet and sour pork or fortune cookies.

For my Chinese feast, I turned to The Woks of Life, a delightful Chinese cooking blog that I can’t open without being inspired to cook like 9 million things.

When I started this project, I originally was only going to cook one dish from each country. I figured I’d go easy on myself for China, and make 花生酥 (hua sheng su), a traditional sesame peanut brittle.

It’s something I’ve made before - I make little bags of it for my colleagues each lunar new year.

I don’t follow the Woks of Life recipe exactly - for example, I’ve never once roasted and shelled my own peanuts. I tend to use a mix of blanched and pre-roasted peanuts in my 花生酥, and I think it comes out okay. Next time I’m going to increase the amount of sugar I use - I find that 270g of rock sugar is not quite enough to cover the peanuts totally. Which is a pain. Next time I think I’ll use 300g, and turn the heating on in my kitchen so it’s warmer, to stop the brittle from hardening before I can properly get it into the tray to cool.

But then I changed my mind, and decided to throw a full on feast.

For the feast I threw, I made two more dishes from the Woks of Life - Easy Peking Duck with Mandarin Pancakes, and 年糕 (nian gao), or stir-fried rice cakes (though I did them with chicken, not pork, as that’s what I had in my freezer). I also cooked up some spring rolls, as I had them leftover in my freezer from my housewarming (for which I over catered, because I cannot do anything but over cater any event I throw). I should have marinated the duck longer. That one was on me.

I also made some 核桃酥 (he tao su), walnut cookies, which were delicious and I definitely want to make again. I think I’ll add some hazelnuts in as well for additional crunch, and make them slightly smaller - they were 12 very big cookies.

But delicious cookies.

Kisu was most distressed that we did not feed her anything from this feast.

The Playlist

I ended up finding this “Chinese Indie & Rock” playlist on Spotify, which I really enjoyed. I could understand none of the songs, but I enjoyed the heck out of a lot of them. I’ll probably keep listening to this playlist - they were definitely my sort of jams.

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

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Jon and Ygritte - rotten moral code? Nah, just setting up Jonsa.

If there is one thing that had me uncertain if Jon is good enough for my Darling Angel Sansa, it’s this:

He could feel the throb of pain where her arrow had gone through the meat and muscle of his thigh. He remembered the old man's eyes too, and the black blood rushing from his throat as the storm cracked overhead. But he remembered the grotto best of all, the look of her naked in the torchlight, the taste of her mouth when it opened under his. Ygritte, stay away. Go south and raid, go hide in one of those roundtowers you liked so well. You'll find nothing here but death. (ASOS, Jon VII)

Gosh, it was sure bad when she murdered that innocent, unarmed old man. But wow, what a hottie. “Go south and raid”? Raid?? Seriously, you want her to kill even MORE innocent people because it’s such swell fun for her? What the hell is wrong with you??

Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body . . . and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. He was pledged to Lady Stark, and I am pledged to the Night's Watch. (ASOS, Jon VI)

Wrong to leave her. Hm. Yeah. If that’s your preferred lifestyle, Jon. By all means.

And, dude, I get that your relationship with Catelyn was very painful and that you never even met your mother, but that comparison is just insulting to BOTH women. And Ned. By all the Seven, get a grip, Jon.

"Who is Ygritte?" Donal Noye asked pointedly.

"A woman of the free folk." How could he explain Ygritte to them? She's warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a man or slit his throat. "She's with Styr, but she's not . . . she's young, only a girl, in truth, wild, but she . . ." She killed an old man for building a fire. His tongue felt thick and clumsy. The milk of the poppy was clouding his wits. "I broke my vows with her. I never meant to, but . . ." It was wrong. Wrong to love her, wrong to leave her . . . "I wasn't strong enough. The Halfhand commanded me, ride with them, watch, I must not balk, I . . ." His head felt as if it were packed with wet wool. (ASOS, Jon VI)

This is one of the few things I find deeply, deeply disconcerting about Jon. This willingness to overlook the murder of an innocent man, to let it be overshadowed by the memory of, essentially, her naked chest.

Jon Boy, I get that you were a love-starved little bastard weasel and you miss the intimacy of a relationship, but she is literally a cold-blooded killer. And she treated you like a possession. How are you justifying this.

Seriously, the only saving grace here is that Jon is maybe 15 or 16 and emotionally starved and has zero experience with what a good relationship would be like. Ygritte was neither particularly warm, nor smart (AT ALL!) and I cannot judge the funny. But she most certainly was a violent, murdering invader. And Jon really really really wants to be in denial about that.

At the worst, this tells us Jon is extremely superficial in his core values. A sham of a character. But that doesn’t gel with what we’ve seen of him elsewhere.

At best, however, this underlines how very very very much Jon longs to be loved, how much it will mean to him when he experiences it. This is the only interpretation that ameliorates his moral failure here just a little bit. This angle also gives us a glimpse into the future.

We already saw Jon mature a lot over the course of AFFC and ADWD. He does still refer to Ygritte in his head as a mentor. But the romantic relationship fades far into the background. He has better priorities, but that longing for love is likely not dead.

GRRM is obviously setting up something to do with Dany, here. Violent invader open to romance… It’s Dany. GRRM either means to create plausible doubt about Jon’s true feelings if he wants to toy with the reader about political!Jon, OR to set up another bout of actual denial if Jon is bound to Dany on an honest, emotional level.

But.

The first option will be tricky to pull off, without erasing Jon’s POV for far too long, so why bother for just one short-term surprise? It’d be as bad as the show. GRRM is better than that.

If it was the second option played straight, I would lose all my respect for Jon. And I would find it boring. It would mean that Jon has literally not grown, at all. It would mean that whatever relationship he develops with whatever Stark he encounters before Dany - Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Benjen, I don’t even care - would not have enough depth to outweigh whatever an emotionally stunted child woman (fascinating character arc, but really, she’s not that interesting on an interpersonal level) can offer him. He would be as ignorant about a proper relationship as he had been with Ygritte. As willing to compromise basic moral standards for emotional comfort and a good time between the sheets.

Or GRRM is simply setting up a contrast.

The fact THAT Jon was having these extremely questionable impulses of bargaining when it comes to Ygritte’s character back when he was a wee little stupid baby, actually makes me fairly confident that he won’t struggle so hard do the same with Dany when he encounters her as a “man grown”.

Because there would be absolutely nothing interesting about Ygritte 2.0. with dragons. Murdering invader who looks good naked, yay! My family disapproves: what surprising, heart-rending tension. She kills people but she is so pretty: what inner turmoil. She is miraculously pregnant with the fruit of our incest, but I love her, it’s all good. Go south and raid, Dany Darling! I am aghast by your killings but, gosh, so torn because you are so full of.. um.. yeah. No.

But it would be very interesting to see Jon understand the difference between a good and a bad relationship. To track his actual growth by seeing him reevaluate what he thought he knew with what he learns. To see him struggle not with melodramatic denial but with guilt for an emotionally vulnerable monster, and with horror when he discovers she is possibly much cleverer and even more dangerous than he even thought.

Basically, what would be much more interesting, would be Jon underestimating her, rather than being in denial. Being in denial about Dany’s nature, or bargaining over it, makes Jon a boring, repetitive fool. Underestimating how far she will go, while being fully aware of her nature, that’s the stuff of horrifying surprises.

But in order for Jon to mature emotionally to such a degree, he will first have to experience a relationship that is not abusive but nourishing, and feel loved and accepted. Not even necessarily romantic, but simply close, positive, trusting. And in order to do it in an interesting, non-redundant way that shows us something we have not seen before, it almost HAS to be Sansa. Which brings us back to how very very very much Jon craves just such a thing. So much he was willing to downplay the vile horror that is murdering innocent people because the person who did it had “loved” him and he wasn’t ready to let go of that.

Arya, Bran, Benjen, Rickon, all the Starks already love him. It’s Sansa who’s a mystery box in terms of interaction. Basically, their relationship, in order to set Jon up on a trajectory to stay interesting, has to be a very positive one. It doesn’t have to be perfect, obviously, but overall very positive. Warm, funny, smart. Life-affirming. Embracing.

And unless Jaime-Cersei-Brienne is supposed to be the apex of romantic tension in the books (Love Arianne, but she is not “big” enough to carry the books on her amazing shoulders.) then Jonsa is basically inevitable.

There is simply not enough emotional tension in a platonic Stark family v. Targ family feud. Certainly not between the Starklings. Why have two Stark sisters unless Jon’s relationship with them is going to be markedly different? Especially with the level of importance weddings and babies have carried up to now. It is literally inevitable that romance will be central. Even if GRRM means to end it tragically, which I don’t think he will, Jonsa will have to be a thing, a BIG THING in order to provide emotional growth for Jon, a contrast to his relationships with Ygritte and Dany, a pay-off for all of Sansa’s romantic disasters and - obviously - for RLJ. Because only Jonsa is unlocked by the reveal of that secret. Because Jon’s main arc is not the road to Targaryen kingship. It’s the road to home and family. There is only one thing in that direction that RLJ makes possible: marry a Stark. And there is nothing to be gained by Jonrya, their love was already perfect. And he probably can’t continue the Stark line by marrying Bran. Just saying.

In order for Jon’s questionable, immature thoughts about Ygritte’s murdering actions to lead anywhere at all, he will have to overcome them. The most interesting way for him to do that would be by experiencing an actual, positive love story, where he doesn’t have to be in denial about his lover’s vicious nature, and experience actual acceptance and tenderness. You know, that exotic stuff where you’re not threatened with violence, called stupid, angrily yelled at for disagreeing, being shown zero interest in the things you care about… You know, the kind where you don’t have to commit or condone murder in order to be loved. Where someone might actually, I don't know, try and pull you away from the murderous brink.

So, out of the darkness of those horrifying Jon thoughts about Ygritte, I kind of draw a lot of hope for Jon’s future.

#asoiaf speculation #asoiaf #jonsa #anti-ygritte #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #sansa stark #ygritte #my posts

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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years

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“Aunt Marge Visits” || YEAR 3 – Ch.2 (HP au)

Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 7/14/2020

Word count: 3,063

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Heather let Hedwig and Errol out of their cages, not wanted them to hoot or screech while Aunt Marge was over, “Go to the Burrow for a week. You’ll have a much better week than we will.” Heather opened the window for them.

Harry was making sure all their stuff was in the floorboards, when he remembered the growling book under the dresser, “What do we do about that?”

Heather moved one of the boxes slightly to see if it’d come out and to her horror, it had chewed through into the very box she had pulled away, “It’s in here!”

Harry opened the box flaps and looked inside, “It’s asleep,” he whispered, “Hand me my belt.”

She handed it over and watched him make a loop and lean inside. There was a growl and a quick yelp from Harry followed by a sigh of relief. He took out the growling book, bound together by the belt, and placed it under the floorboard as well with the other one.

“COME DOWN NOW!” Aunt Petunia called from bellow.

“Why do we have to greet her? She hates us.”

“Because she loves making fun of us,” Heather held the door open for Harry and they both made their way downstairs.

Heather stood next to Dudley and snorted trying to hold in a laugh at his stupid necktie. Dudley turned to her and stomped on her foot suddenly.

“OW!”

“Quiet! She’s coming,” Aunt Petunia opened the door and smiled, “Welcome!”

There was a CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH of the gravel and then Aunt Marge was in full view as she walked through the open door, looking as if she smelled something foul and sour in the air. She gave a polite smile to Aunt Petunia and set her chunky dog down on the ground, opening her arms wide to hug Dudley.

“MY DUDDERS!” she scooped him up with both arms and squeezed very tight.

Dudley’s feet dangled and it was amazing watching Dudely’s self-restraint. Heather knew he wanted to yell and scream to be put down, but he had a mission, and the reward for it was dessert, no doubt. Aunt Marge finally set him down and turned to Heather and Harry, frowning like she’d found what smelled so awful.

“Marge, there’s some tea in the kitchen,” Aunt Petunia quickly led her away from them.

Uncle Vernon came through the door next, carrying all her cases. “Carry these to your room,” he pushed the luggage at them.

“Our room?” Heather looked at Harry urgently.

“Isn’t she staying – ”

Uncle Vernon closed the door and grinned, “It must have SLIPped my mind. There’s a tent set up for you two in the back.” He made his hand into a chubby walking man motion, “So walk these on up and do as you’re told for the week. Then it won’t SLIP my mind what our deal was.” He left them in hall and closed the door to the living room.

Heather kicked one of the cases, “We should have known.”

They split the workload and dragged everything upstairs and set it in the corner of the room. Luckily, they didn’t get their brooms out and the loose floorboard was right under the bed. Ripper – the favorite bulldog Aunt Mare took everywhere – hopped right onto the floor mattress and growled when she tried to kick him off.

“We get to keep our pillows. At least.” Harry grabbed them both and they headed back downstairs to set up the tent.

After the last rod was in place and all the spiders were kindly removed by Harry, they washed their hands and sat for dinner, across the table from Aunt Marge and Dudley. At first she pretended not to notice them, until Heather decided to go for seconds.

“I see that school of yours hasn’t taught you a thing,” she moved the bowl of cooked greens towards her. “Gluttons and freeloaders. The pair of you.”

It was hilarious, watching Aunt Marge yell at them about eating too much as she spooned a mountain of gravy into her mouth. All while Dudley laughed with his mouth open at them.

“Petunia, you should write to them – obviously their lessons aren’t sticking. Maybe it’s time for a more aggressive approach.”

The rest of the week went more or less like how it always went. Once a day she offered to beat them to “really show them who’s in charge,” or would comment on their appearance. Despite complaining about them eating every time they did so – which was only twice a day – she commented on how weak they looked and how it had to do with their genes.

Twice she had to stop Harry from talking back. She knew every time Aunt Marge bordered on bashing their parents, Harry was ready to giver her a piece of his mind. She often times looked at Aunt Petunia, to see how she reacted to almost being insulted since she was the one actually related to them. If she was bothered by it, she never showed it, nodding and agreeing with everything Aunt Marge said about them.

“In breeding they take those things very seriously,” she was saying to Uncle Vernon over dinner that night, “You can’t make any old mut a dam or a sire, or the whelp will turn out ill-tempered and bad-mannered.” She looked at them, “Which must have been the case. Just compare these two to my sweet Dudders over here – ”

Just then Aunt Marge’s whine glass exploded, covering her in red wine and staining her overly embroidered suit jacket and brown top. Everyone but Aunt Marge looked at Heather and Harry – though mostly Harry since he’s always the one to lose his cool first.

“I’m so sorry, Petunia. Sometimes I forget my own strength,” she laughed. “One of those two can get me something. I’m sure they’re capable of at least that.”

Heather and Harry walked into the kitchen together, gave her a couple of napkins, and excused themselves from the table. They walked out of the room and ran outside. Heather made sure the glass door was closed shut and dove into the tent after Harry.

He was curled up in the corner with his arms crossed, “I know. The forms. I’m sorry.”

“Harry…” she sat down close to him, “I hate when she says that stuff too… But you shouldn’t care what she thinks or says about… about them. Even if she calls them muts.”

“You only don’t like it ‘cause you hate hearing about them! You don’t even care what anyone says, good or bad.”

Heather clenched her jaw, knowing they were bordering on an uncomfortable subject for her. “I just… We have to live our life now. And that means going to Hogsmeade. The past is the past and nothing anyone says now or ever will change that.”

“It does change things!” he sat up and smacked his hand on his pillow, “You act like they left us on purpose – ”

“Harry!”

“But they didn’t! They were taken from us! They didn’t leave you – ”

“Harry I SWEAR – ”

“But you have no problem leaving them!” Harry frowned and wiped tears from his eyes, letting silence fall on them for several minutes. “You’re the one whose leaving them.”

Heather punched his shoulder as hard as she could and ripped the tent flap open, “I’m sleeping outside tonight. Until you APPOLOGIZE.”

She stood up and stepped out, zipping the flap as fast as she could and walked over to the far left of the house, away from all the windows and from view of the tent. She fell onto the dirt and started sobbing, kicking the fence as hard as she could until a crack appeared in the perfectly white picket fence.

“I’m not leaving them,” she growled into the wind.

There was a rock to her left and she imagined angrily flinging the rock over the fence and hearing it smash to pieces onto the street and before her eyes she watched it follow her exact imagined trajectory. She heard it hit the street on the other side and skid a few feet before hitting something hard. Her anxiety about being caught doing magic ruined the moment, knowing two accounts of underage magic would be showing up for the evening. Two more than what was allowed.

It only took an hour for Harry to apologize for what he said. Heather nodded but kept quiet the rest of the night and some of the morning. It was during breakfast that Harry finally made amends by offering up his slice of bacon to her, which she cheerfully accepted, despite the disgusted looks Aunt Marge was giving her.

“You’ll be lucky to find any kind of husband willing to put up with you,” she shook her head, “And if you want a wife you’ll fix that mop of yours atop your head!”

The twins nodded, not really knowing how else to respond to that kind of attack on their future selves. The day felt like a copy of the last, having to sit around the room near Aunt Marge while she barked orders and spit out insults.

Heather excused herself to the bathroom for the fourth time that day and headed upstairs. She was walking past their bedroom door when she heard a familiar clicking. She looked over the railing quickly before opening their door to a large majestic owl pecking at the closed window with a light green scroll tied to its leg.

She crossed the room and pulled the window open to allow for the owl to enter. It stretched it’s leg out and the second the rolled up letter was pulled free, it swept away, as if unable to be in the vicinity for much longer.

“WHERE IS SHE? You know drugs can be done at any age? I’d check the tank if I were you…”

Heather rolled her eyes at Aunt Marge and stuffed the letter in her pocket. She left the room quickly, closing the door behind her quietly and made her way back into the room where Aunt Marge was now commenting on Harry’s “glassy” eyes.

She could hear Harry muttering under his breath, “Focus on the form,” over and over to keep his cool. The only thing getter HER through it all was the fact today was Aunt Marge’s last day here. They would get their room back, she could study some more, take a long shower… and she’d get to clean that gross mattress Ripper had been sleeping in all week.

Heather and Harry were drawn back to reality by the snapping Aunt Petunia was doing to get their attention.

“Maybe they were dropped on their heads,” Aunt Marge howled with laughter.

“Go set the table,” Aunt Petunia called from the kitchen.

While Dudley entertained Aunt Marge – who had been slipping him twenties every so often throughout the week – and Uncle Vernon uncorked several whine bottles, they set the table and got it ready for Aunt Petunia’s fancy dinner. They all sat down and Heather and Harry watched everyone dig into the meal before they served themselves.

Sometimes Heather wished Aunt Petunia had been nicer to them, she admired her cooking and thought it would have been nice to learn from her, though she knew the reality was they wouldn’t be able to stand each other for even a second. If Heather complimented her cooking right then, she would have been sent away for mocking her somehow. In the end, their relationship is best left well alone, along with the rest of the Dursleys.

“Fancy some more, Marge?” Uncle Vernon held up the last bottle of red wine.

“A tiny bit more won’t hurt,” she pushed the glass and kept motioning for him to keep pouring until there was no more coming out. “That’s alright, then.”

Would it be so bad if they disappeared during dessert? She kept eyeing the door with Harry but Uncle Vernon made it incredibly clear they were not to move an inch, quietly slamming his fist down while his sister downed the wine.

“That hits the spot,” Aunt Marge set down her wine glass and pet Ripper under the table and looked at Dudley on his third cream cake serving, “Dudder’s you’ll be a healthy beast-of-a-man when you grow up, just you wait,” she winked at him. “But you two,” she started.

Heather noticed Harry start to mumble again, something about the broom servicing kits.

Aunt Marge pointed her cream-covered spoon at Heather, “Gotta watch out for ones like her in their teenage years. My horrid neighbor – the one I was telling you about, Petunia – she had a bitch once – she kept seeing all sorts of strays in the neighborhood, wondered why – well I knew just why. It was only a shock to her when her bitch gave birth to a dozen mutts – and who knows what dog was to blame.”

Heather clenched her jaw and squeezed her fork tight. They were all lucky Harry and her were going to Hogwarts, or she would’ve had nothing to lose just then.

Marge spooned some more cake into her mouth and turned to Harry next, “And this runty-one – what kind of boy is shorter than his sister – It must be to do with THAT blood.”

She was starting to jumble her words, but Harry understood her perfectly.

“What blood,” Harry asked, setting down his fork.

Heather looked at him with wide eyes, wishing she could flick his nose or ears or anything to keep him from starting something everyone at the table would regret, but mostly him. Dudley had now looked up from his cake again, grinning and happy to hear about how awful his cousins were.

Marge squinted her eyes at Harry, “That sister of yours, Petunia, was clearly a bad egg, but the rotten egg was obviously that Potter boy she ran off with. You’ve got the results of bad blood mixed with rotten blood right here, and you can see it in him.”

Harry shook his head and pushed the small cream lumps around his plate. Heather’s heart was beating out of her chest and sighed with relief at his calm reaction. She kicked his foot under the table and nodded her head slightly when he glanced over, trying to convey her approval.

“What was it this rotten Potter boy did, again?”

Aunt Petunia hesitated for a second, “Nothing, he had no job – ”

“Of course he didn’t, why would he. That layabout was nothing but a filthy bum – a pimple by societal standards – and good riddance. I’d say be thankful there’s no chance for them to be coming around begging for money but now look what they left behind. That Potter boy was filth – ”

“No. He wasn’t!” Harry slammed his fist down.

“MORE WINE, MARGE?” Uncle Vernon quickly stood and ran to the wine cabinet.

Marge ignored her brother, “What else would you call a good-for-nothing moocher who goes and kills himself and his wife and leaves you two accidents on the doorstep of two hardworking people too good and decent to kick you off their property, hmm?”

“He didn’t get anyone killed!” Harry stood, knocking his chair back.

“Oh, going to get all tough on me, are you boy?” Marge sneered and stabbed her spoon into her cake, “You and your sister are both ungrateful little RUNTS – ”

Heather looked up from her hands – previously pressed against her face in horror – and stared at Marge the same as everyone. She had suddenly stopped speaking and the red from her face was spreading down her neck and onto her hands. Everywhere she turned red, it looked like she was swelling like a great big balloon until her buttons all popped off her clothes and her belt buckle broke in two, allowing what little waist she had before to disappear entirely.

Heather stood as Marge began to lift from the table, grasping at the corners and looking around utterly confused.

“NO! MARGE!” Uncle Vernon came running back to the table and tried to sit her down into her seat.

She looked like a hot air balloon now, rising up out of her seat despite Uncle Vernon’s attempts at keeping her down – Aunt Petunia only looked on in horror with Dudley cowering behind her, looking at Harry and Heather.

Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the table and out into the hall. She made to run upstairs for the lock pick kit but just as Harry reached for the knob, the door burst open and all their things fell out.

The living room door was rattling as if someone was trying to get out – likely Uncle Vernon ready to yell at them – but despite there being no locks, it would not open. She couldn’t help but stare at Harry as he stuffed all his things in his trunk and then Heather’s. Did he know what he was doing? Did he mean to do it? She hadn’t seen anyone else use all that magic without a wand at school… and she hated to think it… but was he really the powerful wizard everyone claimed he was?

“Are you going to help?” Harry hissed at her.

“Wh-what are you doing? Why are you packing? We should get a hold of Mr. Weasley and ask how to reverse whatever spell you used – ”

“We’re LEAVING, Heather. Why would we stay here?”

She blinked and turned back to the door being pounded on heavily. Even the kitchen door was jammed shut with something.

“Leave where? Where would we go? We have no one!”

She pulled him up but he pushed passed her and ran up the stairs. She stood frozen in place as Harry collected their things from under the floorboard and came back, pouring their belongings into their trunks. He shoved her broom into her hands and dragged his trunk to the door, flinging it open – this time manually – and exited the house.

Just then the kitchen door flew open and Heather jumped, grabbing her case and following Harry out the door as Uncle Vernon yelled for them to come back and fix Marge. She ran to catch up to Harry, who now had his wand out and ready.

“Why do you have that out!”

“In case they try to stop us leaving. We aren’t ever coming back.”

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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myfandomrambles · 5 years

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Aadora & Catra in She-Ra Season 3

Catra and Adora are pretty good examples of two ways abused children can continue to live one finding a new ability to attach and choosing to heal and one becoming so preoccupied with the injustice they completely fall apart. Their individual circumstances during and after the trauma set the ground for their reactions, however, the story does show an element of choice in rather you can start climbing upwards or spiral downwards.

Adora:

Adora had a very strong upward trajectory in this season. One important factor is Adora finding healthy attachments with people who offered grounding connections, validated her emotions, and counteracted almost every negative cognitive distortions the abuse instilled in her. We see this pretty explicitly laid out in season 3 which was pretty powerful.

Queen Angella protects her explicitly protecting her from her abuser who is a known gaslighter). Glimmer shows a great deal of healthy attachment. She has learned to read Adora better and offers her physical comfort to emotional distress, Bow also offers physical comfort even small gestures like putting his hand on her shoulder. This shows attunement from both her friends which means she has a next when she is struggling. Glimmer is protective of her friend too, telling off Shadow Weaver and willing to go to extremes to ensure that they can save her when she is captured.

Glimmer also goes out of her way to support Adora, not just returning Adora’s support of Glimmer as a commander but explicitly supporting Adora’s emotional and psychological needs. Reminding bow that they are “ We are supporting her”. Glimmer and Bow also both help to counteract Adora’s self-blame, a particularly fun example is when Adora feels guilty for what happened in the Crimson Waste and then interrupts herself to comment on Huntara’s footprints she says “Exactly, it’s Huntara’s fault.”

Adora also gains real strength. She is no longer seeking Shadow Weaver’s approval and can reject positive comments of manipulation from her mother with the negative ones. She learns to let go of the perfectionist and constant self-blame she dealt with telling Catra she is not responsible for what happened to the world nor is Catra’s suffering.

Adora does make choices though, one big one is accepting the kindness. She can’t internalize it right off the bat but makes the choice to try her best. She also chooses to mak put her will to building up others, herself and the world instead of tearing it down. There is no choice in being abused and traumatized, but taking the pain into savings Eitheria and being kind to those who are kind to her.

Catra:

With Catra we see much of Adora’s story completely inverted. One key thing is her staying in the Horde through season 2 and into the start of season 3 she is still being exposed to abuse and is in the same lifestyle as before. If we look at Catra’s interactions with Shadow Weaver in season 2 we see how she was unable to fully disconnect from her mother and still deeply craved her love and approval. This makes her betrayal extremely painful, the rejection of Hordak breaks her down to the point she doesn’t believe she should care for others or that she is worthy of being cared for. She puts herself in the fuck it mindset telling off Hordak, she accepts her likely death with a cynism.

In the Crimson Waste, we see a large degree of this fuck it attitudes. She expresses being over even her own previous ways of dealing with trauma. An example is her comment on how “I’ve done the whole threatening thing”. She does, however, use her natural talent for manipulation to control those within the Crimson Waste. This displays that she does not see her own skills and accomplishments, this is also reflected in Entrapta having data showing Catra is skilled. Catra’s actions in the crimson waste and the earlier scenes with Hordak shows a reckless disregard for her well being and impulsiveness.

Catra and Scorpia's relationship is key for both of their plots this season. Catra returns Scorpia’s affections at least a bit and can put down her hypervigilance for a moment. During the party, Scorpia notices this commenting that she had never seen her smile before that. These interactions with Scorpia are one place where choice comes in with Catra. Catra often doesn’t show equal compassion back to her one real friend. To some degree, I think it took her a while to truly recognize the friendship, but she doesn’t choose to respect Scorpia. You can’t force yourself to believe you are loveable but she could choose to try and support Scorpia and not put her down for trying. Scorpia tries hard to tell offer the support Catra needs, saying thank you and returning the emotions even if it’s hard on a more consistent basis would have helped.

A full breakdown is triggered when Adora tells her that Shadow Weaver came to find her. This is powerful for her because it is another betrayal she feels from both of them, but it reinforces her inferiority complex, and it triggers her preoccupation with revenge. It sends her into a “burn it all to the fucking ground” mindset. It is essentially a suicide attempt and a murder attempt. You can see her physical posture and movements change. Her eyes change focus and her movements are more rigid. The actions she takes with the portal very much strikes me as thoughts like “everyone is going to leave me, I can never really be in charge, and everyone is going to hurt me” fueling her getting into the mindset of she can’t control anything so she will control her death and others.

She, however, makes choices still, Catra is aware of the damage the portal will do but is willing to lie and possibly kill everyone to do this act of power. Her choice to lie to Hordak and attack Entrapta to get what she wants was also deeply manipulative. And lastly, she did not have to attack Adora to prevent her from fixing the damage Catra herself did. She would not accept responsibility but externalized her own personal mistakes on to other people, and transferred the riotous blame she had for Shadow Weaver to Adora, who was not responsible.

Catra is responsible for what she did, I still find her to be a sympathetic and understandable character, it was wrong but the narrative supported her actions and they made sense (abuse makes hurt angry people). It is a story that is engaging to people and doesn't feel like she snapped in a way that goes against her character. It was a ballsy choice on the creator’s side to not follow the common redemption arc formula and it went against a lot of the fandom who seem too overwhelming ship Catradora. Honestly negative character development is fascinating and heartbreaking.

This story also doesn’t bother me as much as normally making abuse survivors become villains because we also have Adora in this story. It becomes a story about a lot of different kinds of dysfunctional to abusive situations in the parent-child dynamics, I don’t think it supports the victims become abuser narratives. I see it closer to an Azula/Zuko or Gamora/nebula type situation. Though in contrast with Azula & Zuko the scapegoat became the person to perpetuate the violence.

However like with Azula Catra is fun to watch as a villain, she’s intimidating, the corrupted Catra design is just fantastic. On a just viewing pleasure level, it is well done, which in storytelling having a compelling and fun character is the most important part.

Their relationship:

Catra & Adora are mirrors of each other in many ways which makes their opposite development tracks narratively compelling. Another thing is Adora finally truly accepts she is not responsible for Catra and she let’s go of her longing for Catra to come with her and be a family again. She recognizes catra is aware of what she is doing, and is hurt that she was willing to hurt people to do it. Learning to no longer carry intense self-blame was also deeply key here.

Catra’s externalization and blaming Adora for her pain becomes more intense, and her totally breakdown leads to the remaining compassionate ties breaking. The need to control Adora continues in this season. An interesting reflection of the relationship is the fantasy world built from the portal is Catra wanted to stay, not just the recklessness of being okay with people getting hurt but in that world, she and Adora had everything they had planned on before. Catra also looks truly afraid of Adora after the portal closes, something we really only saw while She-Ra was infected.

This was a very important arc for both of their characters taking a huge step each of their single stories and struck a new paradigm before them. One way of framing this is also taking Catra from an antagonist to a full villain.

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ais-n · 4 years

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How do you create your characters? (anon ask)

Another question from the same anon I mentioned in the other post:

In general, how do you create your characters, especially their psychology/thought process/ flaws?

haha I have two answers to this - and they depend on the level of ridiculous I’m being.

MORE THOROUGH - CHARACTER BIO TEMPLATE:

I actually have a character bio template I made so it was easier for me to track multiple aspects of characters in complex stories. You can download and adjust/use however you’d like - more info at http://aisylum.com/give-and-take/resources/ or download directly as .odt, .doc, or .rtf.

I made that for my fantasy series but you can just change whatever you want to fit better for your particular situation.

In the thorough cases like this, I will usually start with some sort of idea of the character, whatever that may be, put that into the character bio, and build out from there. Sometimes the vague idea is the gender and/or orientation, sometimes it’s their past, sometimes it’s just a snippet of dialogue I think of someone saying and I have to figure out who would say that thing in that way and why.

I also try to think about what leads to what.

Like, Boyd was starved of consistent love and stability as a child, so he came to fully believe he didn’t deserve it while also desperately and subconsciously seeking it out. But because he also had low self-esteem and other issues including a number of tragedies in his past, he became self-destructive at times in his quest for feeling loved or needed. He was willing to put the needs of others above the health of himself, if it meant he wouldn’t be abandoned. Which meant he would be reckless at times, and it meant his emotions would vary hugely when it came to relationships; he would do really stupid things out of fear of losing love or acceptance because he had wished so dearly for it for so long - but that can also backlash and lead to the very thing he feared because he was doing things at times for the wrong reasons or was too willing to compromise when it would be healthier for everyone to stand his ground.

Or, looking at my LGBTQIA+ sci-fi/fantasy/cop/murder mystery-type story Incarnations for other examples - Cypress is a type of Mage (magic-user) who is maligned by pretty much the whole world, especially by other Mages. His kind was all killed in a genocide centuries ago. For various reasons that also pertain to his past (and which would be a spoiler to dictate right now but come up later in the book), he has a huge distrust for other people, to the point at times of rage and hatred and violence. He has almost no one who has been on his side and stayed on his side from the start, except his twin brother. But that comes with its own set of fears, of what would happen if something happened to his brother?, and because he equates emotions to weakness, and he loathes weakness, he can be very aggressive and cynical and sarcastic when interacting with other people. But at the same time, precisely because he’s the type of Mage who gets hunted down and killed or detained by others, and because of how he grew up, he’s learned how to stay under the radar and how to blend in when needed. For all his rage inside, he’s very good at playing a part if he has to, and those two pieces of him may feel at direct odds to one another but they’re just two sides of the same coin. He has the rage because of who he is, and because of who he is he had to learn to not be seen. He is volatile at best when he’s being his own ‘normal’ and yet he can act totally ‘normal’ according to the rest of the world at the drop of a hat if needed. You could meet him in the middle of a grift and have no clue he’s anything other than a regular Joe Schmoe kind of dude who wouldn’t hurt a fly, when in fact he wouldn’t hesitate to brutally kill you if circumstances made it in his best interest.

Basically, I often try to think of what makes sense for how people would react to things they’ve been through (both good and bad), and then how that might affect their behavior going forward, and what would positively or negatively affect that.

One very short, truncated example I’ll give is Sloane, another Mage from Incarnations; because of an event in her past that she survived and others didn’t think she should have, she’s seen as a monster by much of the local community. She became inured to random death from a young age, so she doesn’t question things the way you might expect someone to in the same circumstances, but she also became resentful of others because of how she was treated. She was a troubled child who acted out a lot, but then she had one person who decided to keep reaching out to her, again and again, despite how often she lashed out. And that person became a sense of stability for her, that led to her doing a 180. She went from a kid who was constantly in juvie to being a cop (in this world’s equivalents). There’s a lot more to her story but that’s just a quick way of showing her past and the way people treated her affected her negatively until she had enough of a positive impact on her life from someone else that she ended up changing her trajectory.

I work through a lot of those sorts of things when filling out the character bio so I get a good idea of their past, their tendencies, their biases, etc. And then there’s a section that asks questions like what would build them up, what would bring them down, what is needed for them to progress, etc. I answer those questions as much as I can, and oftentimes get some revelations about the character along the way. And then I look at the plot of the story as a whole and see if it makes sense to include pieces along the way that will provide character progression (or regression) for the character.

That can be a good way of not only making sure characters don’t stagnate in a story, while also providing layers to the plot itself so that it’s not just about one single thing - there are multiple things happening along the way that provide something potentially interesting or fun or whatever as well.

I personally like to write stories where you can enjoy it as much or more on the second, fourth, tenth read as you did on the first... I want to try to add little things, if possible, that you may glance over the first time without enough context but later can go back and say OHHH when you know more. I find that doing that is particularly fun and enjoyable and easy when you have character progression or little character quirks you can include along the way, because it doesn’t have to be some big dramatic thing for the plot of the world or overall story. It can be something as simple as a character with long hair deciding to cut their hair off, or someone who always wears shoes and makes fun of another person who goes barefoot, now trying to go barefoot and thinking “oh crap, I get why they liked this all along.” It can be totally inconsequential things for the series as a whole that have some sort of meaning for the character or reader, big or small.

I get bored easily both as a reader and a writer so I guess to me that brings in a level of entertainment.

So essentially, I start with something that either I feel I know about the character or makes sense to me about the character, then I try to think about how they would view this thing, and then I try to think about logically what would follow based on their worldview. And that often will lead to flaws, psychology, thought processes, etc. You could think of it like “What would I do if I were them?” but try to not put your personal values in place of their own.

Like, I would never murder the fuck out of people so callously as Cypress does, but I want readers to understand why he does, and for that I need to understand too as the writer or else that’s asking way too much for the readers to understand something I don’t.

QUICKER, LESS RIDICULOUS WAY

I don’t always want to fill out a whole ass memoir/biography on a character to write or create them - sometimes I just want something simple.

In those cases, I don’t write everything down like that bio template, and I don’t go into such specific and detailed questions about every part of their past and their relationships and what they do or don’t need to get better or etc. Instead, I’ll just go with the vibe of someone - what’s the information that’s of import for them as a person and their particular story? Sometimes that’s gender, orientation, race, etc, or sometimes it’s things they like (like spooky things) or things they hate (like restrictive rules).

I try to do more of an overview of why they are how they are, and therefore how they may react to certain things, but I don’t worry myself about going deep into their thought process and psychology to know every detail of how and why. Because depending on the story, I don’t even need to know that information.

I tend to do more of a ‘surface-level’ view of characters for my short stories, because going super in depth would work against what I’m trying to do when I write those - which is develop SOME sense of brevity in my life. Somewhere lol

A good example of that mentality is probably my short story Five Star Review which is about a god and a spiritual being having a conversation in a closed restaurant. In that story, both main characters are they/them, because that’s the pronouns that worked, and they are very briefly described but barely at all. That story is more about philosophy and the way spirituality/religion interacts with humanity, so that’s what more of the focus is on. I didn’t need to know every single thing Deity (the god) has ever thought, because it’s irrelevant; I just needed to know how they would feel about the particular topics brought up in this particular story. And then, if the dialogue, plot, or otherwise leads to it, I could figure out their flaws or merits as needed, based on the sort of “person” they had already shown themself to be in the previous scene(s).

I don’t know if that helps or if all of that is more confusing. But I basically just start with something I feel I know about the character, then build on that in the context of the world or environment they would have developed in, and then just kind of follow the logic along.

Also, if that doesn’t lead to flaws or any depth of the character, I will go back and look at something central to them, and try to see if there is anything seemingly directly opposed that could be introduced as a flaw or aspect of them. Because I feel that humans are rarely one-sided, and oftentimes the complexity of us is because of juxtapositions within ourselves we have or haven’t come to terms with. So to make a character feel more “real,” I think it’s important for them to have at least two things about them that don’t, at first glance, seem like it makes sense - but it doesn when you think about them as a person growing up where they did, or how they did, or where they are now, or whatever other piece of them. Not only does that feel more nuanced as a character and more realistic, but it also introduces some internal conflict that can be used as character progression or, at the very least, something interesting to bring in when the plot is in a lull and you don’t know where to go next.

For me, the most important thing is being willing to change my presumption of the character as the writer, if the character naturally develops in a different direction. And therefore also being willing to change the plot to accommodate, instead of forcing the character to follow the plot.

Sorry this post was a million miles long..... hopefully it helps, like, at all, and isn’t just massively confusing.

#ask ais #icos #icosbooks #in the company of shadows #writing #incarnations #wildwood rising

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Afraid of Hights. (Branjie) - Kite

A/N: I’m on mobile so I have to post this anonymously but you can find me on tumblr at youre-a-kite. Please hit me up with any prompts or requests, I’d love to hear them!

Summary- Brooke wakes up in Vegas with a strange, captivating young woman in her bed, and a gold wedding band on her finger. They have to fix this mess as soon as possible. If only they could keep their hands off each other for long enough to do so.

Panic sets in before Brooke even opens her eyes.

Fuzzy memories of the night before flash through her mind.

Poker. Expensive whiskey. Brash, loud laughter.

A chapel.

She’s having a heart attack.

Her chest seizes up and her breath hitches in her throat. Her eyes squeeze tightly shut, as though blocking out the memories will make them any less real.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This type of thing doesn’t happen to people like her. It’s just can’t be real. It can’t be.

Her eyes open and she takes a deep breath as she carefully lifts her left hand towards her face. The gold band on her ring finger her is a cruel taunt at her stupidity. It glints in the sunlight. She can hear it mocking.

A groan from beside her snaps her from her thoughts and she turns around to see the woman laying in her bed.

The bed is king-sized, but somehow the five foot two woman beside her manages to take up three-quarters of it. Her petite, very naked body is stretched out on the sheets. Her voluminous brown curls are splayed out on the pillow around her head, framing her face like it’s a priceless work of art. Love bites litter her neck and chest. Brooke feels a pang of arousal in her abdomen as she recalls putting them there.

Memories of the night before flood her brain once more. Brooke rememberers how the woman’s soft skin felt against her own. Legs wrapped tightly around her waist and neck. She only knows the woman’s name because she remembers whispering it, moaning it, screaming it. Multiple times over.

Vanessa.

Shit. If she absolutely had to be a drunken stereotype and get married to a stranger in Vegas, at least she’d picked a smoking hot one to do it with.

-x-

Vanessa moans loudly as Brooke sucks on the exposed skin above her collarbone. Her legs are wrapped around Brooke’s waist, her small hands grip the porcelain rim of the sink that she’s perched on.

“What are you?” Brooke growls into her neck, then runs her teeth over Vanessa’s rapidly bruising, sensitive skin.

A small whimper escapes her lips.

“What are you?” Brooke repeats, more firmly this time. She drags her fingernails teasingly over Vanessa’s inner thighs.

She whimpers again. “I’m yours.” She whispers.

“Louder.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours.”

It’s what Brooke wants to hear, but it isn’t enough. Vanessa can say the words. Brooke can mark her skin. But she needs more. She pulls back from Vanessa’s grip. “Get down.”

“Why?”

“We’re getting married.”

-x-

As Brooke showers, more memories come.

Vividly, she can see Vanessa sitting on her knee at a roulette table. How they’d gotten there, Brooke couldn’t recall, but she could picture that moment so clearly. One arm draped lazily over the armrest, delicately balancing a martini glass in her hand and Vanessa tucked firmly under the other, purring words of utter filth into her ear.

Brooke isn’t a gambler. It’s not how she makes her money, it’s simply how she chooses to spend it. She doesn’t get a rush from the uncertainty or the prospect of winning big. No, what she likes is the power. She relishes in all eyes being on her. Watching as she puts a cool thousand on eleven, just because it’s Vanessa’s favourite number.

She’s at a point in her life where its the only real fun she can have with her wealth.

She likes to be bold. Make statements. Be unashamed.

Last night was supposed to have been a chance for her to let her hair down. Forget about the company. Forget about deadlines and designers and Paris Fashion Week. Put on her sultry red dress with the slit that reaches the top of her thigh and let herself feel like the whole world revolves around her. Given the trajectory of Brooke’s career at present, it won’t be long until she’s unable to enjoy anonymity in a crowd. She needs to make the most of being a rich, alluring stranger whilst she still can.

She had wanted to find just the right girl to show off on her arm then drag up to the penthouse suite. Young enough to be coy and innocent, old enough to have her wits about her. Confident enough to tell Brooke what she wants, but submissive enough to lay there and take it. Vanessa had been the perfect choice.

Fucking Vanessa was part of the plan. Marrying her wasn’t.

-x-

“You’re sure you want to do this, Mami?”

Brooke doesn’t want to answer that question. This is a terrible decision. It’s the most reckless, poorly thought through, fucking insane thing she’s ever done. There’s no reason for it. She can’t think of a single positive thing that will come from this. She’s drunk, but not drunk enough for it to be an excuse.

Then she sees Vanessa looking up at her. Big doe eyes full of excitement and passion and desire. Eyelashes fluttering delicately. Endless possibilities.

“I’m sure.”

-x-

Brooke’s robe hangs open, draped loosely over her shoulders. She’s proud of her body. It takes hard work to look as good as she does.

When she gets back to the hotel bedroom, the bed is empty.

Her eyes flare wide with anger, and she inhales sharply. She’s about to grab her phone to call her assistant and have him launch a city wide manhunt for this woman that thinks she can run off whilst they’re still married, when she notices that Vanessa’s skimpy black dress from the night before is still on the ground. Unless she’s run off naked, she’s still in the suite.

Brooke finds her in the lounge. The rising sun outlines her perfect silhouette where she stands in the floor to ceiling windows, looking outwards. The glass is still faintly smudged from where Brooke had fucked her against it the night before.

“Beautiful, ain’t it?”

She has her left hand on the glass and Brooke can see her ring. It’s lavish. Gold band, glinting white diamonds. In a twisted way, she’s proud of herself for choosing that ring. It’s not exactly Cartier, but it’s a good choice given the circumstances. Don’t let it be said that Brooke Lynn Hytes doesn’t treat her ladies right.

But Vanessa isn’t talking about the ring, she’s talking about the view. They’re so high up that they can see the city stretched out before them, then the expanse of Nevada desert beyond it. The sun is only peeking over the horizon, threatening to expose all of their mistakes in the light of day.

“It’s something.”

-x-

“Do you believe in aliens, Brooke?”

They’re laying on their backs on the balcony of Brooke’s hotel bedroom, gazing up at the stars. Three hours since they got married. Three minutes since they’d most recently fucked.

The ring on Brooke’s finger burns.

She hasn’t answered the question. She isn’t going to.

“What about fate?”

“Hmm?”

“Fate. You believe in it?”

Brooke sighs deeply. “No, baby.”

She doesn’t believe in fate or astrology or a bigger game at play. Logic and reason, sure. But the idea that really, everything in her life could be beyond her control, no. She can’t accept that. Things happen because she wants them to.

This has happened because she wanted it to.

Vanessa shivers beside her, so Brooke scoots a little closer and drapes her arm protectively over her waist.

-x-

They stand there, looking everywhere except at each other, the silence growing more tense by the second, as if they’re both waiting for the other person to break it.

“So,” Brooke finally starts, walking across the floor towards Vanessa. “You’re my wife.” She stops when there’s less than a foot between them. Vanessa has to crane her neck to look upwards and meet Brooke’s eye.

The younger woman swallows and her breath hitches. Anticipation? Arousal? Fear? All three? Brooke can’t tell.

Vanessa nods. “And you’re mine.”

Her chest tightens again, like all the air has been sucked from the room. This is real. This is really fucking happening. She clenches her jaw and resists the urge to lean down and brush the stray hairs from Vanessa’s face.

“Who should I call first: room service or my lawyers?”

There’s a glint in Vanessa’s eye as she chews on her bottom lip and shakes her head. Slowly, but boldly, her hands raise to the lapels of Brooke’s robe. Brooke doesn’t resist as Vanessa pushes the material away from her. It falls to the floor by her feet. “I don’t think you should call nobody, Mami.”

Brooke’s fingernails dig into her palm but she can’t look away. They shouldn’t do this. Fucking isn’t going to solve this problem. Fucking will only make this worse. It will complicate things. Without intending to, she ghosts her fingertips up Vanessa’s sides, relishing in the feeling of her impossibly soft skin.

A beat passes. Then another. Fuck it.

“Get on your knees.”

-x-

“So you’re like, rich rich?” Vanessa slurs as the elevator opens up into Brooke’s hotel suite. Penthouse at the Bellagio.

“You could say that.” Brooke smirks.

Vanessa looks around as though she’s only just realising how extreme this is. As though Brooke’s careless gambling, hundred-dollar martinis and the giant diamond ring she’s wearing on her finger weren’t enough to tip her off already.

As Vanessa drags her fingers along the lavish upholstery of the sofa, Brooke is struck with a thought that takes the breath from her lungs.

They didn’t sign a prenup. Fuck, she didn’t even think about it.

Vanessa may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but she’s savvy. And she’s probably smarter than Brooke’s giving her credit for. Before too long, she’s going to connect the dots and realise that she can use this marriage to gain wealth beyond her wildest dreams.

Her mind starts reeling, thinking of all the things she can do to as damage control. Maybe she could transfer her shares in the company over to a trust, or spread them between the board of investors? Liquidate all of her personal assets and move the proceeds to an offshore account? If she doesn’t, the petite Latina currently gazing out of the window at the dazzling lights of Vegas could bring Hause of Hytes to its knees.

Then she sees Vanessa reaching behind her back to grab the zipper of her dress. She’s still facing away from Brooke, looking out of the window, as she slides the zipper down.

Fuck it. Everything else can wait until later.

Brooke crosses the room with purpose and grips Vanessa’s waist from behind. Stoops down so that her mouth is millimetres from the shorter woman’s ear. “Are you afraid?”

She’s talking about the height, it’s a long way down. The cars look like fireflies beneath them. But she could easily be talking about so much more. Are you afraid that you’ve just married a woman you’ve only known for the night? Are you afraid that you’ve stepped into a world so unfamiliar to you? Are you afraid that I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name?

“A little.” Vanessa breathes out.

Brooke tugs at the material of Vanessa’s dress so that it falls away from her body. Vanessa shudders as Brooke drags her nails down her naked back. She squeezes Vanessas ass gently, then uses her knee to nudge Vanessa’s legs apart. Her fingers graze over the woman’s inner thigh, then she rubs her softly through her panties.

“Brooke.” Vanessa moans as Brooke drops a line of hot wet kisses along her shoulder and up the slope of her neck.

“Yes, baby?”

“What if the window breaks and we fall.”

“Then we die.”

-x-

Realistically, Brooke can’t spend the rest of her life fucking Vanessa to avoid all her problems, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t give it a try. The sex is rough and needy and right on the cusp of pleasure and pain, so by the third round of mutual orgasms, Vanessa practically begs for a break.

She purrs an invitation to join her in the shower into Brooke’s ear, but Brooke declines. It’s time to start taking this seriously.

Brooke chain smokes three cigarettes out on the balcony before she can even pick up the phone.

Three missed calls. One from Scarlet Envy’s agents, enquiring about the possibility of a collaboration for fall 2020. Hard pass. One from her mother. She can deal with that later. One from the publicity team for Paris Fashion Week, asking for a statement about the inspiration behind her spring collection for the brochure.

Yesterday, all of these issues would’ve sent Brooke spiralling. Her workload was pressing on her like a vice clamped around her chest. She would’ve agonised for hours over the exact wording of her statement for Fashion Week or chewed the skin around her nails in anxious anticipation of returning her mother’s call. But today, none of it seems to matter.

She deletes all three voicemails and calls her lawyers.

-x-

Brooke stands of the fringes of the casino floor, sipping her whiskey, looking for just the right woman to be her companion for the evening.

There’s a petite asian girl sitting at a slot machine on the fringes of what looks to be a bachelorette party. Stunningly beautiful. Looks like the type of girl that would benefit from a woman’s touch. But she’s not Brooke’s type at all. She’s too polished and perfect. Brooke likes her women to be a little rough around the edges.

Two machines down from the woman, there’s another. Latina. Gorgeous, too. She’s getting more and more frustrated with the game. Brooke smirks. She’s got a temper. But she needs a little more. Come on, Brooke dares, show me that you’re worth my interest.

As if on queue, she slams her fist against the machine and starts spouting profanities like a sailor. She’s a brat. Bingo.

Brooke needs to make her move quickly before the woman gets herself kicked out. Like a lioness on the prowl, she moves across the casino floor.

-x-

Her lawyers are taking the company jet from Toronto. They will arrive in just over five hours.

Considering the scale of the fuck up, the legal team had the good sense to maintain a very firm air of professionalism throughout the phone call. Most likely due to the fact that Brooke would have them fired before they even opened their mouths if they had decided to issue their judgment.

The two pieces of advice they gave her were very clear. Don’t let her work out who you are. Don’t let her out of your sight.

The fact that her lawyers seem to be treating Vanessa like some kind of scheming mastermind doesn’t sit right with her. It makes her feel a certain amount of guilt that she isn’t ready to deal with.

Brooke was the one that sought Vanessa out. She pursued her. Brooke was the one to propose. Brooke dragged her into this mess. It’s her fault.

She’s a terrible person.

Maybe she should just step aside and let Vanessa take half of everything she owns. It’s what she deserves for letting her possessive, almost predatory side, rear its ugly head. Jesus, what kind of person marries a woman she’s only just met to prove a point?

Nausea hits her like a wave.

She panics as her vision blurs, until she realises it’s because she’s crying.

A small hand on her lower back guides her back inside and towards the bed. “It’s okay. Everything gonna be okay,” whispered over and over again.

They huddle together beneath the sheets and Brooke thinks this may be the first time she’s cried in front of another person in her entire adult life. “I’m so sorry,” she chokes out.

“You don’t gotta be sorry, baby.”

Brooke shakes her head. “This is my fault.”

“It takes two to tango, Mami.” Vanessa chuckles. “We’re in this mess together. I’ve got you.”

A lump forms in Brooke’s throat.

All her life she’s looked after herself. Handled her problems alone. She doesn’t have a best friend. No siblings. Her relationship with her parents is cordial at best. Her pathetic excuse for a love life amounts to nothing more than a string of one night stands. The closest thing she has to a person that looks out for her needs is her assistant. How fucking pathetic.

But now there’s Vanessa. They’ve known each other for less than twenty four hours and already she’s prepared to tackle this problem as a team. Together. It’s wrong and foolish and crazy, but Brooke isn’t ready for this feeling to end.

She pulls the covers up over her their heads, blocking out almost all of the light, and rests her face on the pillow beside Vanessa’s. Noses tip to tip. They’re the only two people in the world.

“Kiss me,” she whispers.

Vanessa’s lips are hot and needy against hers. Her tongue probes against Brooke’s lips insistently, but Brooke pulls away. “Gently,” she clarifies.

This time, it’s slower. They’ve kissed a lot over the short time that they’ve been in one another’s company, but never like this. Closed mouth. Delicate. Almost chaste.

She’s going to cry again.

-x-

“Do you love me?”

The question is almost accusatory.

If she says yes, she’s the fool that believes in love in first sight, but if she says no, she’s the fool that’s now legally bound to spend her life with a woman she doesn’t love. Answering the question is a lose-lose situation.

They’re sitting in the parking lot of a ice cream parlour, sharing a sundae. Their first official date as wife and wife. Brooke stares at the bright, artificial blue and pink flavours swirled together as she tries to think of her answer.

“You married me. You must love me,” Vanessa tells her, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Brooke doesn’t love her. She can’t love her. They’ve known each other for six hours. This isn’t love.

And yet.

She feels something that she’s never felt before. She feels something tugging her towards Vanessa, like an invisible tether between their two souls. This sort of thing isn’t supposed to happen.

And yet.

It has.

“I love this,” Brooke tells her. It’s an evasive answer, but it’s the only thing she can say for certain.

“I love this too.”

-x-

Vanessa is asleep against her chest. Their limbs are tangled together beneath the sheets and Brooke stares at the ceiling trying to unravel the knot in the pit of her stomach.

It’s two in the afternoon. Where the time went, she doesn’t know, but she wishes that it would stop moving so quickly. Because as soon as the lawyers arrive, the spell is broken. Their fairytale like dalliance will be over and they will move on with their lives, like two ships passing in the night.

Vanessa stirs slightly and nuzzles into her, and idly Brooke raises her hand to stroke Vanessa’s hair. It smells like cheap hotel shampoo, but it’s soft between Brooke’s fingers. When she drags her fingernails lightly over Vanessa’s scalp, she sighs in content.

A sharp knock at the door to the suite startles them both. A beat passes and neither move. Brooke squeezes her eyes tightly shut, but she doesn’t know why.

Another knock.

“So, this is it then?” Vanessa says, her voice barely above a whisper.

-x-

“She wears her heart on her sleeve you know.”

Brooke turns to face the woman that’s speaking to her. Well, they’re the only two people in the bathroom, so she assumes the woman must be talking to her.

Brooke quirks her eyebrow questioningly.

She recognises the woman from the bachelorette party she’d seen Vanessa with. Sophie? Silky? Something like that. Not that it matters.

“Vanjie wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s easily hurt. She got this idea in her mind that she’s gonna find ‘the one’ and everything’s gonna fall into place.”

Brooke is assuming ‘Vanjie’ is Vanessa. A twinge of annoyance overcomes her and her face sharpens into a scowl. This is supposed to be a one night stand. Vanessa’s feelings aren’t supposed to be something she has to take into account.

“Why should I care about that?” Brooke challenges.

“Cause you’re gonna fuck her then dump her ass on the curb before the sun comes up. She deserves better than that.”

Brooke rolls her eyes as she pulls out a paper towel to dry her hands. Who does this woman think she is? Cornering her in the bathroom to give her a lecture about hurting feelings. “Vanessa is an adult, she can look after herself.”

“Bitch, if you’re gonna be up in here letting her sit in your lap, making her feel all special and shit, then it’s your responsibility to look after her too.”

“I’m not responsible for her. I don’t need to look out for anyone but myself. She’s a grown woman and she knows what she’s doing. If she gets hurt, that’s her problem.”

-x-

Sharp suit. Stiletto heels. Red lipstick.

Soft, emotionally vulnerable Brooke is gone. Now, she means business. It’s time to stop fucking around.

Her two lawyers sit on either side of her on the large sofa. Her assistant is in the armchair, ready to take notes.

Vanessa sits across from them, on a sofa alone. She’s wearing Brooke’s leggings and an oversized t-shirt. It was all Brooke had to give her and since there was no fucking way she would be able to do this with Vanessa sitting in her skin tight black dress and thigh high lace up boots from the night before, it seemed like the best option. But now, Brooke is regretting Vanessa’s clothing choice.

It makes her look small, vulnerable and afraid. Brooke is half an ounce of self restraint away from calling the whole thing off.

When she is handed a sleek black folder with Hause of Hytes embossed in gold lettering on the front, she looks up at Brooke questioningly. Brooke can see the moment the penny drops. The look of realisation as she understands the exact identity of her new wife.

Brooke nods curtly in confirmation.

“Miss Mateo,” the lawyer on Brooke’s left starts. “Enclosed in your folder, you’ll find divorce papers and a non-disclosure agreement. Please sign and initial at the relevant tabs.”

She opens the folder and, in that moment, a multitude of emotions pass over her face. All of them negative.

Confusion. Anger. Hurt.

She takes something from the top of the folder and holds it in both hands. “The fuck is this?” She laughs in discomfort and shakes her head.

The lawyer clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s a cheque.”

“I can see that, I ain’t blind, Papi. One hundred thousand dollars. I mean what the fuck is it in here for? I know you rich but surely you don’t wanna be leaving this shit laying around.”

“We trust that is a satisfactory amount for your cooperation and discretion on the matter.”

Brooke’s fists clench in anger. They hadn’t talked about this on the phone. Vanessa shakes her head in disbelief as she realises what the money’s for, but seemingly the lawyer misinterprets her meaning.

“Miss Mateo, I can assure you that we won’t be going any higher,” he says in a disgustingly patronising tone.

It’s like a knife to Brooke’s heart. They think she’s some kind of gold digger who’s here for Brooke’s money. They don’t know that this was all Brooke’s idea. She was the one that proposed. She dragged Vanessa into this, not the other way around. She opens her mouth to defend her, but Vanessa is quicker.

“Fuck you,” she spits venomously. “How fucking dare you? This really what you think of me, bitch?” There’s no build up. She goes directly to a ten.

She isn’t directing it at the lawyers, she’s screaming at Brooke.

The folder is hurled across the room and a vase shatters with its impact. Divorce papers are showering down around them. It’s mayhem. But Brooke doesn’t care, all she can see is Vanessa running for the bedroom.

She has to go after her. This can’t be how it ends.

-x-

“Vanessa Mateo, do you take Brooke Lynn Hytes to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Vanessa is rocking on the balls of her feet, likely due to the copious amounts of alcohol she’s been drinking. “I ain’t never been to a wedding before.” She hisses beneath her breath to Brooke. “Do I gotta some romantic shit? Cause all I can think about is how badly I want to fuck, but I don’t think you’re allowed to say that in a church.”

Brooke snorts an ugly laugh and the minister glares at them both. They aren’t in a church, it’s brightly lit, tacky room attached to a casino that claims to be a chapel. She’s sure the minister has heard much, much worse.

“No baby, all you have to say is ‘I do.’”

“Right. Okay. Yeah. Okay, Mary, ask me again.”

The minister clears his throat. “Do you, Vanessa Mateo-“

“I do.”

Brooke cackles. “Let him finish!”

“Do you, Vanessa Mateo, take Brooke Lynn Hytes to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I sure as shit do.”

Close enough.

“And do you, Brooke Lynn Hytes, take Vanessa Mateo to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Oh fuck. Well, it’s significantly different when the tables are turned and the question is on her. It seems that someone has sucked all of the air from the room.

“I…”

“She does!” Vanessa interrupts. “She really fuckin does. Cause she wants to get all up in this fine Latina.”

She’s not wrong.

God, is she making a terrible mistake?

Of course she is. She really fucking is.

The minister asks her the question again. He’s getting impatient, she suspects this is the last time he will ask.

“I do.”

-x-

“Fuck you.” Vanessa yells as she gathers up her things from the bedroom floor.

“Vanessa-”

“Fuck you,” she screams louder. “You think you can make me out to be some sorta sluty hoodrat that’s tryna take all your money? Fuck you.You’re such an asshole, Brooke.” The laces of her boots are tangled but her hands are shaking too much to loosen them. She’s making it worse.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were going to do that.”

“It don’t matter that you didn’t know. Whatever you told them about me clearly wasn’t the truth, if they thought they needed to give me money to keep me quiet or whatever. I didn’t even know who you were last night, you really think I did this so that I’d have a story to tell or some coin in the bank? Look me in the eye and tell me that’s what you thought this was.”

The words sting because they’re accurate. Brooke didn’t actively tell her lawyers to assume the worst about Vanessa, but she didn’t correct them when they had.

“I’m sorry.” Brooke says softly, stepping closer. She covers Vanessa’s hands with her own, to stop her fumbling with the boots. “Let me help you.”

Vanessa stops and looks up to meet Brooke’s eye. Her breathing is heavy and she looks so distraught and confused that Brooke is heartbroken. “I don’t wanna just sign some paper and never see you again. It’s complicated and we fucked up big time, but that don’t mean we have to just pretend it didn’t happen. I really like you, Brooke. I don’t want this to be over.”

Neither do I.

Brooke drops Vanessa’s hands like she’s been burned and takes a step back. She needs to keep her head straight. She doesn’t want this to be over, but it has to be. “Well, it is.”

Vanessa moves her hand to cup Brooke’s cheek. “Baby-”

Brooke pushes her hand away harshly. Pushing Vanessa away will make this easier, she’s sure of it. “Listen, if you think this is some sort of fairytale romance where we get married on a whim, then drop everything in our lives to be stay together, then you’re fucking delusional. This is real life.”

It’s nasty. Way more harsh than it needs to be. But if it gets Vanessa to stop fighting the inevitable, it’s what has to be said.

Tears are streaming down Vanessa’s cheeks, but she makes no move to wipe them away.

“Why did you marry me?” she asks quietly.

“Because I wanted to fuck you.”

“You knew I wanted to fuck you from the moment we met. That’s not why.”

Brooke clenches her fists tighter. “Because I have an obsession with power and I need to be in control. I wanted you to be mine. Is that what you want to hear?”

Vanessa shakes her head and takes a step closer. They’re inches apart. “No,” she whispers, “because that ain’t it either.”

“Then do please enlighten me.” Brooke is looking away. Desperately trying not to cry.

“I think, deep down, you married me cause you wanted to convince yourself that you’re the type of person that can be spontaneous and romantic. You picked me up cause you wanted an easy fuck, but as soon as you realised that it could be something real you acted on whatever rash, stupid ass impulse was going through your mind.” She cups Brooke’s face again and forces her to look down. “I think you wanted to believe in the fairytale.”

Brooke shakes her head. She’s wrong. She has to be wrong. This fucking woman, after less than a day, can’t know Brooke better than she knows herself. Brooke keeps herself sealed off like a vault, but Vanessa can see in without even trying.

“Why did you say yes?”

“Cause I wanted to believe in it too.”

Brooke shakes her head again. It’s too much. It’s crazy. Insane. Not happening. She tries to move away but Vanessa catches her arm. There’s a brief struggle between them as Brooke tries escape but Vanessa won’t let her, then suddenly, they’re kissing.

It’s needy and desperate. It’s everything.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Brooke growls against her lips as she pushes her towards the bed.

“I know.”

“I haven’t changed my mind. As soon as this is over, you sign the papers, we go back to our real lives.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

Clothes are peeled off in a frenzy. Brooke’s lipstick is smudged across Vanessa’s face. It’s messy and frantic.

This isn’t how Brooke likes sex to be. She likes every move to be precise and accurate. Vanessa’s hands tug at her, pulling her down onto the bed and guiding her to where she wants her to be. Controlling her. She doesn’t usually like that either.

But somehow, she needs it.

The fact that she needs it scares her more than it should. Fuck this. She’s retaking control.

Vanessa is flat on her back, wrists pinned above her head before she can realise what’s happening. Brooke pauses briefly, searching her face for a signal that she can go on. Vanessa nods gently and it’s all she needs to see.

It’s as though Brooke only understands what she wants as she’s doing it. She straddles her knees on either side of Vanessa’s head. “Fuck me,” she demands.

The first press of Vanessa’s tongue is like fire. She lurches forwards and grasps at the headboard to steady herself, and Vanessa’s hands curl around her thighs. It’s fast and hard and uncoordinated. Somehow it’s the best sex that Brooke’s ever had. Maybe it’s because she needs it so fucking badly.

She moves her left hand from the headboard and arches her back, reaching behind herself to toy with Vanessa’s clit, thanking the gods for her own flexibility. When she does, Vanessa bucks upwards to reach her touch. “Harder,” she gasps against Brooke’s thigh.

Lost in her own bliss, Vanessa’s head falls back into the pillow, but Brooke takes the fingers of her right hand and winds them through her hair. “Don’t you dare stop.”

She isn’t sure which one of them comes first, it’s too close to call. A moment or two of dazed silence passes before Brooke gets down to lay beside Vanessa.

Brooke begs herself not to complicate things by doing something romantic. Like pull Vanessa in close to her chest. Or delicately brush the stray hairs from her face. Or ask her if she wants to tell the rest of the world to get fucked and run away together.

She turns away.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she reminds Vanessa, as she lets herself succumb to sleep.

When she wakes up, the crumpled divorce papers are on the pillow beside her.

They’re signed.

Vanessa is gone.

-x-

The months that pass in the run up to Paris Fashion Week happens in a blur. She tries to put everything that happened in Vegas behind her, but it’s still there. Chewing away in the back of her mind.

Constantly.

She wishes she could switch off the memories and save them for only when she wants them. She wishes there was something she could do to stop the crippling pang of guilt in her chest that she gets every time she thinks about how it ended.

She would give anything to not be in love.

It’s opening night. So much is riding on this. She moves with purpose from model to model, checking every last element of her garments are perfect. Throwing herself into her work, being high on adrenaline and fear, it makes her forget about Vanessa. Almost.

Show time.

-x-

At the end of the night, she sits alone in the backstage area. All the models have left to celebrate their first night of freedom. Most of the designers, makeup artists and support staff have gone with them. All the rest have the good sense to leave Brooke alone.

The collection was a success. Her agent has been taking calls for interviews and collaborations all night. She was on the map before, but this will really send her to the top. It’s everything she’s ever wanted.

And she feels fucking nothing.

She’s empty. Numb to the joy. Numb to the pain. This is not how she’s supposed to be feeling. She tells herself that as soon as the shock wears off and reality hits home, she’s going to start feeling the elation, even though she knows it isn’t true.

All she can think about is how much of a terrible mistake she made.

What if Vanessa was the one? She’s been the only woman to make Brooke feel like she believes in love. What if nobody can make her feel that way again? What if she’s thrown away her shot at happiness? She gambles to take risks. Be bold. Be daring. So why couldn’t she have taken the chance on Vanessa?

It’s not like they were going to stay married and live happily ever after, but why did that have to be the end of it? Why couldn’t they have just gotten to know each other like two normal people? There’s so much about Vanessa that she doesn’t know. That she will never know.

A knock at the door breaks her from her trance. A man from security, wearing a black suit and an earpiece, enters.

“Madame Hytes?” he asks, in a thick French accent.

She nods her head.

“A woman claiming to be your ex-wife has tried to enter the building three separate times. You ought to be aware, in case she accosts you in the street.”

She blinks rapidly and shakes her head in disbelief. It’s a crazed fan. It’s a joke. It’s not her. It can’t be.

“I understand.” Her voice is trembling. “What does this woman look like?” She’s not hopeful. She rationalises the question by thinking that, if this is some kind of stalker situation, she’ll at least know who to avoid. She definitely isn’t hopeful.

“Very small. Brown hair. American-”

“Let her in.” She cuts him off.

That description fit millions of women, but there’s no doubt in Brooke’s mind that it’s her.

“Madame Hytes-”

“I said let her in.”

He nods sharply and leaves the room. Leaves Brooke to wait alone. She prays to a god she doesn’t believe in.

The seconds tick by like hours.

It’s her.

The door opens and she’s standing there. Drenched from the rain, trailing a suitcase behind her, grinning like a fool.

Brooke shakes her head and laughs. This isn’t real. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you, Mami. You know, they make it damn hard for a person to get into one of these things without a ticket.”

“You couldn’t have just called?”

“I wanted to see your face. I didn’t even know what city you live in, but I heard you talking on the phone about Paris Fashion Week so I figured you’d be here.” She shrugs as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“How could you afford to-”

Vanessa cuts her off. “I pawned the ring you gave me. Coulda flown to Paris and back again with the money.”

Brooke narrows her eyes. “What do you mean ‘and back’? Did you not buy a return ticket?”

“Hell no, Mami. Fuck going home. Not when my wife is here.”

“Ex-wife.” Brooke chuckles.

“Right.”

This is insane. Neither of them can speak and the tension is thick in the air.

Vanessa drops the case and takes a few steps closer. “I had to see you,” she says softly.

“You’re shivering.” Brooke points out the obvious and Vanessa nods with a smirk.

Fuck. This can’t be real. She shakes her head again and takes a step backwards. “You’re insane.” She breathes out through a smile. “You’ve flown halfway around the world for… for what exactly?”

“I told you. I had to see you.”

“Why?”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she chokes out. She doesn’t know if she’s laughing or crying. “This is crazy,” Brooke whispers as she raises her hands to cup Vanessa’s cheeks. “Normal people don’t do this, you realise that?”

“I know.”

Brooke has spent months thinking about what she would say to Vanessa if she ever saw her again, but the words won’t come.

“Are you gonna kiss me or something? Cause I wanna get outa these wet clothes. Fuck coming all the way to Europe just to die from the flu.”

She can’t do anything but laugh. She’d expected Vanessa to have some movie-quality speech prepared about taking chances and love at first sight and all that other bullshit. But she really did just come all this way to say ‘I miss you’.

“We know nothing about each other.” Brooke tries to keep a grasp on reality.

“We know enough.”

“What if we can’t make it work?”

“What if we can ?”

Her chest tightens as her walls come tumbling down around her. “I’m scared.” She whispers.

“I am too.”

That’s all Brooke needs to hear. She lowers her lips to capture Vanessa’s in a kiss. They melt into one another’s touch, pulling each other closer.

Maybe it’s destined to fail, but Brooke is sure as hell going to give it everything she’s got first.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #smut #lesbian au #vegas au #kite #tw gambling and excessive drinking #submission

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imaginationstimulation · 4 years

Photo

I recently read A Visit From the Goon Squad written by Jennifer Egan.

This novel reads more like a collection of short stories about different characters who are almost inconsequentially related to various degrees.

One obvious theme is about the interconnectedness of all people.

More deeply, the book is a reflection on time and the endlessness of growing up; how our values and, more seriously, our identities change--or don’t--with time.

These are the lines and excerpts I highlighted as I read:

“I’m always happy,” Sasha said. “Sometimes I just forget.” (Chapter 1).

“She could tell that he was in excellent shape, not from going to the gym but from being young enough that his body was still imprinted with whatever sports he’d played in high school and college.”

“...something more than relief: a blessed indifference, as if the very idea of feeling pain over such a thing were baffling.”

“In fact the whole apartment, which six years ago had seemed like a way station to some better place, had ended up solidifying around Sasha, gathering mass and weight, until she felt both mired in it and lucky to have it—as if she not only couldn’t move on but didn’t want to.”

“She wanted badly to please him, to say something like, It was a turning point everything feels different now, or I called Lizzie and we made up finally, or I’ve picked up the harp again, or just I’m changing I’m changing I’m changing: I’ve changed! Redemption, transformation--God how she wanted these things. Every day, every minute. Didn’t everyone?”

“Bennie knew that what he was bringing into the world was shit. Too clear, too clean. The problem was precision, perfection; the problem was digitization, which sucked the life out of everything that got smeared through its microscopic mesh. Film, photography, music: dead. An aesthetic holocaust! Bennie knew better than to say this stuff aloud.” (Chapter 2).

“an urge to confess the malapropism to his fourth grader.”

“As he sipped, a sensation of pleasure filled his whole torso the way a snowfall fills up a sky. Jesus, he felt good.”

“Hearing the music get made, that was the thing: people and instruments and beaten-looking equipment aligning abruptly into a single structure of sound, flexible and alive.”

“The baby he and Stephanie had nuzzled and kissed—now this painful, mysterious presence.”

“He remembered his mentor, Lou Kline, telling him in the nineties that rock and roll had peaked at Monterey Pop. They’d been in Lou’s house in LA with its waterfalls, the pretty girls Lou always had, his car collection out front, and Bennie had looked into his idol’s famous face and thought, You’re finished. Nostalgia was the end—everyone knew that.”

“Rich people like to hostess, so they can show off their nice stuff.“ (Chapter 3).

“Hey, Lou goes. He leans down so our faces are together, and stares straight into my eyes. He looks tired, like someone walked on his skin and left footprints. He goes, The world is full of shitheads, Rhea. Don’t listen to them—listen to me. And I know that Lou is one of those shitheads. But I listen.”

“I can’t tell if she’s actually real, or if she’s stopped caring if she’s real or not. Or is not caring what makes a person real?”

“Lou is one of those men whose restless charm has generated a contrail of personal upheaval that is practically visible behind him:” (Chapter 4, [My favorite chapter]).

“Structural Resentment: The adolescent daughter of a twice-divorced male will be unable to tolerate the presence of his new girlfriend, and will do everything in her limited power to distract him from said girlfriend’s presence, her own mascent sexuality being her chief weapon.”

“Structural Affection: A twice-divorced male’s preadolescent son (and favorite child) will embrace and accept his father’s new girlfriend because he hasn’t yet learned to separate his father’s loves and desires from his own. In a sense, he, too, will love and desire her, and she will feel maternal toward him...”

“Structural Desire: The much younger temporary female mate of a powerful male will be inexorably drawn to the single male within range who disdains her mate’s power.”

“These four are locked in a visceral animal-sighting competition. (Structural Fixation: A collective, contextually induced obsession that becomes a temporary locus of greed, competition, and envy.)”

“The members of Ramsey’s safari have gained a story they’ll tell for the rest of their lives. It will prompt some of them, years from now, to search for each other on Google and Facebook, unable to resist the wish-fulfillment fantasy these portals offer: What ever happened to...? In a few cases, they’ll meet again to reminisce and marvel at one another’s physical transformations, which will seem to melt away with the minutes.”

“Structural Dissatisfaction: Returning to circumstances that once pleased you, having experienced a more thrilling or opulent way of life, and finding that you can no longer tolerate them.”

“My questions all seem wrong: How did you get so old? Was it all at once, in a day, or did you peter out bit by bit? When did you stop having parties? Did everyone else get old too, or was it just you?“ (Chapter 5).

“Your desultory twenties,” my mother calls my lost time, trying to make it sound reasonable and fun, but it started before I was twenty and lasted much longer.”

“The TV is new, flat and long, and its basketball game has a nervous sharpness that makes the room and even us look smudged.“

“Seventeen, hitchhiking. He was driving a red Mercedes. In 1979, that could be the beginning of an exciting story, a story where anything might happen. Now it’s a punch line.”

“...how better to mark success than by going to a place where you didn’t belong?“ (Chapter 7).

“I don’t want to fade away, I want to flame away.”

“It felt impossible, as if Jules’s excitement were being siphoned from inside her, leaving Stephanie drained to the exact degree that he was invigorated.“

“All that can be said for sure is that in the presence of Kitty Jackson, the rest of us become entagled by our sheer awareness that we ourselves are not Kitty Jackson, a fact so brusquely unifying that it temporarily wipes out all distinctions betwen us--our tendency to cry inexplicably during parades, or the fact that we never learned French, or have a fear of insects that we do our best to conceal from women, or liked to eat construction paper as a child--in the presence of Kitty Jackson, we no longer are in possession of these traits; indeed, so indistinguishable are we from every other non–Kitty Jackson in our vicinity that when one of us sees her, the rest simultaneously react.” (Chapter 9.)

“At what precise moment did you tip just slightly out of alignment with the relatively normal life you had been enjoying theretofore, cant infinitesimally to the left or the right and thus embark upon the trajectory that ultimately delivered you to your present whereabouts—in my case, Rikers Island Correctional Facility?”

“Bix and Lizzie’s apartment is tiny, like a dollhouse, full of plants and the smell of plants (wet and planty), because Lizzie loves plants.” (Chapter 10).

“It’s okay,” she says, and you know you should leave it there—it’s fine, leave it alone, but some crazy engine inside you won’t let you stop:”

“He has an optimist’s attraction to everything new—a faith that it will enrich him, not hurt him.“

“The two of you reel away from her. Hilarity keeps you busy for several blocks, but there’s a sickness to it, like an itch that if you keep on scratching, will grind straight through skin and muscle and bone, shredding your heart.”

“We’re going to meet again in a different place,” Bix says. “Everyone we’ve lost, we’ll find. Or they’ll find us.” “Where? How?” Drew asks. Bix hesitates, like he’s held this secret so long he’s afraid of what will happen when he releases it into the air. “I picture it like Judgment Day,” he says finally, his eyes on the water. “We’ll rise up out of our bodies and find each other again in spirit form. We’ll meet in that new place, all of us together, and first it’ll seem strange, and pretty soon it’ll seem strange that you could ever lose someone, or get lost.”

“Sunsan was baffled at first, then distraught. [...] But eventually a sort of amnesia had overtaken Susan; her rebellion and hurt had melted away, deliquesced into a sweet, eternal sunniness that was terrible in the way that life would be terrible, Ted supposed, without death to give it gravitas and shape.” (Chapter 11).

“...all of this bolstered his awe at the gymnastic adaptability of the human mind.”

“...a fibrillating excitement such as he hadn’t felt for years in response to a work of art, compounded by further excitement that such excitement was still possible.”

“A feeling,” Bennie said, rousing himself slightly from his deep recline. “That we have some history together that hasn’t happened yet.” (Chapter 13).

“Her confidence seemed more drastic than the outcome of a happy childhood; it was cellular confidence, as if Lulu were a queen in disguise, without need or wish to be recognized.”

“There are so many ways to go wrong,” Lulu said. “All we’ve got are metaphors, and they’re never exactly right. You can’t ever just Say. The. Thing.”

“They could meander indefinitely, these conversations...”

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