#anyway forget team edward or team jacob

[jimblejamblewritings]

Our Violent Delights Will Not Have Violent Ends: The Twilight Saga Rewrite (Book 1, Twilight) | Part 1.

Summary: Y/N Swan is just like every other girl and she likes it that way. Normal is fantastic. Normal creates a functioning member of society. Normal is the reason she moved to a small town to live with her police officer father... only to find out that she gets the farthest thing from what she wanted. \\ This is a re-write of Twilight. Basically if I had been Stephenie Meyer and wrote Twilight. I will be combining some of the movie and book and the pace will be more like the movies. Not terribly high word count like the books. We might equal one book's word count when we finish doing all four of them. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings for the Series: light violence, light angst, light smut

Warnings for the Chapter: none

Pairing: Edward Cullen x reader, Jacob Black x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: If there are "I" written anywhere in the story, please let me know. I'm posting this story on Wattpad in the I form so I might forget to erase one or two here. Enjoy being casted in the feature role of Bella Swan. Let's go:

A police car pulled up in front of you as you waited outside Seattle-Tacoma International. To think, only four months ago you were trying to purchase plane tickets for spring break. Only you wanted to go to New York with the rest of your classmates. The last place you were ever thinking of was Washington. The state, not even D.C. 

And more importantly not Forks, Washington. But you promised your mom that you could handle this. The only thing worse than that small town for the entire year was traveling so much you might as well be homeschooled. When your mom remarried her now husband, Phil, he played baseball for the Phoenix team.

Phil’s good but he wasn’t good enough to be traded around. You thought your whole life would be Arizona. Until Florida called. And your sweet stepfather and lovingly erratic mother packed up everything before suddenly remembering you had school. So moving to Forks had been a you decision but you're not sure how good of a decision that was. 

The car in front of you rolled down its window until you could see your dad. Charlie flashed a smile that you struggled to return. He’s great. You've spent every single summer with him and almost every one of those summers was in Forks.

But two months is a lot different from the entire school year. You knew only a few people that would be going to Forks High School. A pang hit your heart when you thought about your friends again. You guys promised to call but you'd probably fall out of each other’s lives anyway. But you tried to smile once more, putting your suitcases in the back of the police car and pulling on a thick wool sweater over your shirt and overalls. 

As soon as you slid into the passenger seat, it started to rain — a stark reminder that this wasn’t Phoenix. 

You could feel Charlie’s head keep turning to the side to look at you. Like your dad in more ways than one, the start to small talk was awkward for you. The two of you went back and forth in a silent dance until Charlie saved you from speaking about the weather. 

“Your hair has gotten longer.” 

You grabbed a piece of your now shoulder length hair. Two years ago, in the spur of the moment, you had shaved your head to start over. It was the moment after that you decided you would never do that again. Charlie had to suffer the period of you not being able to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked like an egg. It took dedication but your hair was now long and damage free. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried to stop using heat completely. Except the blow dryer.” 

While starting small talk might have been difficult, once Charlie and you were talking no one could get you to stop. The conversation was still going as the car passed the ‘Welcome to Forks’ sign that should have read population: too damn small instead of an actual number — and even when we got out of the car and into the house. Your room wasn’t terribly different from other summers but you noticed drawers and wardrobes that weren’t there before. You guessed when one permanently moves they suddenly need storage for their things. Charlie even cleared more bathroom space. 

That was probably the one thing you hated about this house. One bathroom. Someone should have slapped the architect that ever suggested this… and then slap the builder that followed through anyway. 

You only unpacked the bare essentials for the next week or so. The rest could be slowly unpacked as time went on. Charlie helped for a few hours before doing his shuffle he does whenever he’s uncomfortable. All he could say was okay before leaving the room.

Even though you two can talk for hours, he’s still awkward to his core. You supposed that you should be happy as a teenager that he doesn’t hover. He never has. You used to think it was because being a cop made him busy all the time and he just developed the habit. As the years went on, it became more apparent that it was just his personality. 

A car honk right outside the window caught your attention. You looked through the glass to see an orange pickup truck and some of the only two faces in town that were familiar to you. Your feet carried you out the door before you were even aware until you crashed right into a boy with hair longer than yours, roughly your height, and only a few months younger in age. 

“Woah, Y/N/N, slow down before you hurt yourself. You know you can't be trusted on your own two feet. I'm surprised you're still standing right now or is it just because I'm holding you up.” Jacob said as he gave you a smile. 

“Whatever, dick."

"Whoa, Y/F/N. Language when you're standing right in front of me," Dad interjected but he didn't look that offended.

"Sorry... Hi, Billy.” 

“Hi, Y/N. Glad you’re back and here to stay. Charlie wouldn’t shut up about it since you told him.” 

Your dad rolled his eyes. “Keep talking and I’ll roll that wheelchair right into the middle of the road.” 

“Not before I ram you in the ankles.” 

You and Jacob’s dads abandoned you to play fight in the road. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. 

“I’m glad to see they’re still behaving like that.” 

“Oh, yeah. Days go by and nothing’s different. It's getting worse with old age actually, I'm convinced that's why Mom is always on business trips… So, do you like your present?” 

You turned to face Jacob. “Hmm?” 

He patted the truck just as your dads came back. Your eyes went wide and your lips twitched until they formed a large smile. 

“Are you serious? This is perfect! Dad, you didn’t have to get me a car.” 

Charlie shrugged. “I work late sometimes and thought that your personal autonomy was very important.” 

He’s trying to sound like a parent that actually read the child psychology books. The why he bought me a car didn’t matter. It was the fact that he just did. A truck didn’t exactly fit my aesthetic but something about vintage ones totally did.

"Don't worry, I worked on it myself. Everything's perfect," Jacob said.

"You did this? By yourself now? Jake, what the heck. That's crazy you're doing it on your own now. Why are you so amazing?"

Before anyone could actually answer you, you whipped open the door and sat inside. You remembered this truck very well from playing in it since you and Jake were four. Billy had this thing for at least seventeen years. The first thing you noticed were the new leather seats. They were pink instead of gray. The second thing you noticed was the engine’s sound. Smoother than it had ever sounded before. 

Jacob opened the passenger door, hopping in to show you how the car operated. He was a genius at fixing cars and trucks. You wouldn’t be surprised if he owned his own mechanic shop some day. 

“And that’s it.” He patted the steering wheel. “If anything breaks, let me know.” 

“Thank you! God, I’m so glad I have one recognizable face at school.” 

“You’ve only been missed two summers. Did you already forget I don’t go to Forks?” 

“Right.” 

Jake, like most of the Quileute kids, went to a high school on the reservation in La Push. People weren’t as judgmental when they all shared something common. There they could wear their hair long, tell folklore stories without getting made fun of, or try speaking little words here and there of Quileute so the language doesn’t die with their great grandparents.

All things you would have loved to be part of or just sit on the sidelines and observe. Maybe you should have complained to Charlie until you went there. Now you couldn’t leech off of Jacob and had to actually make friends on your own. Disgusting. 

Your sentiments didn’t change as you got in the truck and headed to school. You were assigned a parking space the moment you transferred. Unlucky you, you were stuck in the front parking lot.

So much for leaving to go get a better lunch than whatever grub they were going to serve at the cafeteria. Charlie worked too much to even think about asking him to get you something. And you couldn’t ask him to cook either. He’s not really shit at it. It's just his taste buds suck. So unless you wanted to text him a specific lunch menu each Sunday, it was Russian Roulette of lunch. That was too much work. Charlie thinks salami and grapes belong on the same piece of Nutella and butter toast. 

When you finally found the parking space, after three circles around, you turned off the engine and found a bunch of eyes greeting you. Lots of them. That’s what being the new kid in a small town gets a person. The eyes stopped staring once you got out of your truck — they needed a face to match the name Bella Swan. 

“Nice ride,” a black boy in a red hoodie said as he nodded at your car. 

“Thanks, just got it.” 

“Cool.” 

You didn’t exchange any other words before you entered the building. You stared at the paper schedule, trying to memorize classrooms and the stupid tiny map in the corner. An arm suddenly tapped your shoulder. 

“You’re Y/F/N Swan, right? Our new girl.” 

You turned to your right to see an Asian boy with a black polo shirt and the most emo haircut you've seen in a while. You took a double take at his outfit and then at the outfits of your peers around you. Suddenly, you were feeling terribly overdressed.

Your thrifted Burberry monogram poncho doubled as a blanket that you would inevitably need because it sat on top of a long sleeved black mini dress. Was it impractical for January in Washington? Probably. But fashion made everything work. At least you had worn snow boots. 

“Yeah. It’s just Y/N by the way.” 

“Just Y/N. Got it. Well, hi, I’m Eric and your eyes and ears of this place. Anything happens and I know about it. If you need a tour guide, shoulder to cry on, or lunch date then I’m your man.” 

Eric made conversation naturally, no small talk in sight. Kind of like Jacob. You chuckled. “I’ll take a rain check on the lunch date but I do need to find room 33C.” 

“Let me lead the way.” 

He started to lead you down the hallway and to a set of stairs. “So, why move to Forks?” 

“I’m not a baseball girl.” 

Eric snapped his fingers. “Perfect tagline for your spread. I’m the editor-in-chief of the paper and you are front page news.” 

“Oh… Just the front page right? I mean I don’t mind the paper but more than two pages and I’ll transfer.” 

“Got it. Spread killed, feature only. And here’s your stop.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

“I’ll be back for whatever other classes you need to find.” 

True to his word, Eric came back and led you to all my morning classes, including the dreaded P.E. You didn’t hate exercise. You just hated whatever wasn’t pilates or a Jane Fonda workout. Besides, you were never good at P.E. anyway. The testament to that was the gym teacher thinking you should do the volleyball exercises with some of the other girls. 

You flinched as the ball came towards you. It didn’t go back over the net. Instead, it hit my calculus desk partner, Mike Newton, in the back of the head. 

“Sorry!” you yelled as you sped away to hide in the locker room until lunch period. 

Mike seemed to forget about it when lunch came. He talked your ear off all the way into the cafeteria. You had forgotten that a small town wouldn’t be like Phoenix. Everyone wanted to talk to the new kid. Whether they were friends or not was yet to be determined. But Mike was a gentleman. He pulled out your seat for you. 

“Thank you.” 

“My pleasure, Madame.” 

Eric laughed. “Mikey, glad you met my girl Y/N.” 

“Oh, your girl?”

“Excuse me, my girl. We even bonded over cars,” The black boy from earlier rubbed your hair in fake affection before pulling the chair out from under Mike. 

“You’re so dead, Tyler!” he yelled as they ran after him. 

The two girls at your table gave a mix of a laugh and a scoff. A girl with a chunky pink headband slid over a juice carton from her tray. 

“Sorry about that. It’s like kindergarten all over again, isn’t it? You’re the shiny new toy. Hi, I’m Jessica by the way.” 

“Oh, almost forgot,” the other girl with glasses picks up a camera. “Smile!” 

The flash blinded me for a moment. “Woah.” 

“Sorry, I need some candids for the spread.” 

“The spread is dead, Angela,” Eric said in an oddly defensive tone. “Don’t bring it up again… I got your back, babe.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from your throat. Eric left, leaving you, Jessica, and Angela at the table. Angela set her camera down. 

“Great, now what am I supposed to do about filling up the rest of the newspaper? I can’t do another editorial on teen drinking. It’d be the third time.” 

“You could always run a psa on eating disorders,” you tried to offer an option. “Or um… padding on the swim team?” 

The other girls looked at you and for a moment you thought you said something completely wrong but they began laughing. You caught bits of the conversation as you focused on my food: some of the guys bragging about their sizes that seemed totally fake, speedos fitting improperly, and wondering if they only pad for school pictures. 

Going back to the conversation, a glimpse at the window caught your eye before you could speak. Five people walked like this school was a runway. 

“Who are they?” you asked. 

Jessica dropped her fork on her tray, ready to tell you everything. “The Cullens. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen’s foster kids.”

The names were ones you couldn't remember hearing while visiting over the summers. They were either new kids or never came around La Push. One thing you couldn’t deny was that they were all attractive. And the shorter girl had wicked fashion sense. She strutted by like the rest of them in her thin and flowy white maxi skirt with a chunky black sweater and heels entirely too high for you to ever try wearing. You felt almost entranced just looking at them.

“They’re all like together,” Jessica continued. “Rosalie, the blonde one, yeah she’s with the big one, Emmett. Like a thing.”

“Jess, they’re not actually related,” Angela quickly interjected.

“Yeah I know, but it’s still kinda weird that they live together, don’t you think? Anyway, the small dark-haired girl Alice is with Jasper. He’s the one that always looks like he’s in pain. The two blondes are actually siblings, Mrs. Cullen’s niece and nephew or something like that.”

“Dr. Cullen’s like this foster dad matchmaker.”

“Maybe, he’ll adopt me,” Angela said.

You chuckled. If Dr. Cullen was such a matchmaker then you’d have to tell Charlie goodbye.

“What about him?” you motioned to the last guy left. He walked ahead of his foster siblings like he was the leader or something. 

“Edward? Totally hot, supposedly single. No one here seems good enough for him. Don’t waste your time. Like I care, just don’t waste your time.” 

“Trust me, wasn’t planning on it.” 

You knew that Jessica could have a skewed perspective. Maybe something happened between the two of them but Angela seemed to agree with her. This Edward probably was nothing but bad news and trouble.

You dared myself to look at their table again. Your eyes squinted when you saw their trays. Nothing looked touched. When you looked up, all five of them were staring at you. You whipped your head around and didn’t dare look back again until after lunch. 

Thankfully, the classes you had right after lunch didn’t have any of them… until bio class. The teacher, Mr. Donoghue motioned for you to sit at the only empty seat that happened to be next to Edward. You nodded and began moving to the chair. A chill ran down you spine and you shivered as the chill pierced your back. Edward stiffened up at the same time. 

You scowled as he held his hand over his mouth and nose. You had taken a shower, put on nice perfume, lotioned, and wore nice jewelry. There was absolutely no way you smelled. His hand stayed over the lower part of his face the entire class period. Even when he had to hand over material, he pushed them to you with a pencil. The moment the bell rang, Edward was gone. Good riddance. 

Mr. Donoghue signed the last spot in my slip saying you made it to class successfully and now you could give it to the receptionist. You paused in the doorway after seeing someone’s back but it was too late. The receptionist had seen you. 

“Just a moment, dear.” 

The person with the back turned around to reveal a troubled face. He grabbed his coat. “Never mind, I’ll just have to endure it.” 

You rolled your eyes, handed in you slip and went to your truck. Edward was a total douche. Yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d be seeing each other more often than you’d like. Probably more often than he’d like as well. 

Charlie wasn’t finished working when school was over but had enough time for a dinner break. His friend, Waylan, brought takeout from Subway. You didn’t remember Waylan very well. He left for most of the summer each year to visit his kids and grandkids that left Washington. You all moved stuff around on Charlie’s desk to clear space so you could eat. You had a Spicy Italian sub while the two of them ate BLTs. The two of them shared a different sentiment about the Cullens when you asked them. 

Unlike the kids at school, they had nothing but praise. The Cullens weren’t weird but mature and well-rounded teenagers. And Dr. Cullen was the best surgeon they’ve had… and he stayed past one year which is an accomplishment. Certain jobs like doctors and lawyers always come from out of town. Most leave after one or two years, not able to handle the slow pace of this green and gray town. 

Soon, Charlie and Waylan talked in the most stereotypical old man fashion that you had actually checked out of the conversation. Your cellphone rang as you grabbed a potato chip from the small bag that came with your sandwich. 

“That’s Mom, I’m gonna take this.” 

“Tell your mom I said hi, Y/N/N.” 

You nodded as you walked away.  

~~

The next day at school, Edward wasn’t there. You had planned to confront him and find out what his problem was when he didn’t even know you. You weren't exactly popular back in Phoenix but no one had any issues with you. Never. 

However, his siblings were there. Not that you were going to approach them. Your problem was their brother not them and you weren't trying to make enemies in such a small town. You watched them walk into the building as you leaned against your truck. You turned when something hit your back. 

“Y/N!” 

You laughed as you looked at the Twizzler on the ground. “Seriously, Tyler? How dare you waste good food,” you said as you grabbed your bag and walked over to where the kids you met yesterday were all crowded around what you assumed was Tyler’s van. 

He shrugged. “I would hardly call Twizzlers the peak of fine dining.” 

We all walked inside at the start of a bell ringing. The day had been pleasant without your science partner. And the next day was the same when he didn’t show up again. And the next day until the entire week had gone by without Edward showing his face. 

Your first week of school was lucky. You had missed any torrential rain. But you couldn’t say the same for that Monday. The only thing worse than rain was rain when it was below freezing outside. Your front steps were covered in ice. Your phone rang as you closed the house door.

"Hey, Jake... First week done, somewhat a success. Hey, when is Spring Break for you guys? We should totally start coordinating now if we want to try and leave town."

Despite being careful as you talked, you must have stepped incorrectly because before you knew it, your butt had gone down the last three concrete steps leading away from your door and to your driveway. 

“Woah, woah, Y/N/N. Are you okay?” Charlie asked as he helped you up. 

“Yeah, just fine, Dad. Ice isn’t exactly helpful to the severely uncoordinated.” 

“That’s why I got new tires for you. The old ones were getting pretty bald.” 

“Thank you.” 

You both high-fived before getting into your respective cars and leaving. It felt like you were already used to the routine of Forks when you pulled into your parking spot and found yourself automatically going to Tyler’s van. You sat with Jessica, Angela, Eric, or Mike whenever you had class and swapped snacks with Tyler in between every morning class because your lockers were right next to each other. And the group always walked to lunch together. 

“Salad or Sandwich… Hello? Earth to Y/N?” 

You blinked to see Jess snapping her fingers in front of you. “Sorry.” 

“We wanted to know what you wanted? The lines are backing up so we’re splitting up and tackling stations.” 

“Nice, divide and conquer the cafeteria.” 

“The Vikings got nothing on us.” 

“As long as the only thing we’re conquering and pillaging are those sandwiches.” 

“Absolutely. They might have had great hair but I'm not interested. So, ham and cheese, turkey, or those stupid cucumber ones that no one likes?” 

“Hey, I like them!” 

Jess laughed and walked to her designated line. Mike and you were in charge of gathering everyone’s desserts and soups. Three wanted brownies and three wanted chocolate chip cookies, four wanted tomato soup and two wanted chicken noodle. You all wanted saltine crackers. Every now and then, you looked over your shoulder at what made you stop in you tracks. Edward was back. 

And your biology class was the first class after lunch.  

(part 2) ...

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107​ @i-have-no-life-charlie

[anexistingexistence]

Redacted Characters And Listeners As Things That I Or My Friends Have Said/Conversations We've Had:

Marcus: I wish I saw what people see in me fr

Asset: A bunch of organs?

Milo: But ok I wouldn't have high standards if I was Benedict Cumberbatch

Asher: Anyway, hope you're having fun with your book. Don't bite it in half or smth.

(Later)

Baabe: I surprisingly did not.

(Conversation about two different romance books)

Gavin: I was like, yes Rhys, get it-

Freelancer: I thought we were talking about Edward and Bella

Gavin: WHAT. GOODNIGHT. No.

Freelancer: I did not check the switch from Edward and Bella to Mister Fake-Latin-Name

Gavin: FAKE LATIN NAME💀

(Discussion of past relationships)

Darlin: I will show you convos of me and my ex-bf

Angel: Hold up when did you have a bf?

Darlin: Used to be my gf, turned out to be trans

Angel: Ohhh right right I remember

Darlin: The only time my friends believed I was gay

Lovely: Okay, Twilight shaped me into the deranged mess I am today, you should thank it.

Milo: Happy new year

Sweetheart: Make a wish

Milo: I want a big ass

Sweetheart: I want big tits

Milo: You can have mine

Sweetheart: Gladly

Milo: Only for you bbg

Vincent: Are you team Edward or team Jacob?

Sam: Neither- but if I had to pick I'm with the wolf all the way

Vincent: I FUCKING KNEW IT

Vincent: You werewolf-obsessed ass...

Sam: Though, Alice and Jasper were my pansexual awakening I'll be honest

Vincent: Alice 🧎‍♀️

Darlin: But still, call a therapist so you can get an appointment in a year. The longer you wait the longer... you'll have to wait- That sounded better in my head.

David: I have noticed just by talking to you.

Lasko: Can you promise me something real quick because otherwise I'll forget

Freelancer: Okok I mean tell me what to promise and maybe I'll do it.

Lasko: When I get my next paycheck you need to force me to buy the "Are You Lasky?" Shirt.

Lasko: I need to be the joke.

[spots-lights]

I honestly think opinions differ so greatly because the main three characters (Bella, Edward, Jacob) are vastly different between the books and the movies. To the point where they don't even feel like the same characters.

[Assuming in response to my cheeky "knowing other Twilight fans will beat you up for character opinions" post]

I agree so hard. I always say that I'm "Team Jacob" or that Jacob is my favorite character, but I always feel that I have to be so specific and add "Well, I like book Jacob, before SM killed his personality to make Edward the right choice." because otherwise people will come for my throat because Eclipse movie Jacob was an asshole.

The vibes and relationships are so so different book to movie. NM was honestly the most tragic. You got the sense that Jacob and Bella were buddies, kinda on level with all her other friends, but it was only natural that at some point she's have to return to Edward to be whole again. But the book. Oh my god the book. They were the BEST of friends, nearly inseparable. To me this wasn't a book about finding romance and supernatural, it was a book about healing with the love of your friends. I honestly forget that Bella going to Italy is part of New Moon BEACUSE her relationship with Edward feels so shoehorned in. Anyway.... All this to say that Jacob is my favorite character and Edward doesn't even make my top 10.

[a-terrible-sound]

Pokemon Eteocles and Pokemon Polyneices

[littlemrcaprisun]

Team Dimitrescu || Lady Dimitrescu x Ready {NSFW}

{This is for and thanks to @gayllamafromspace and @themagnacarla for the prompt and workshopping/brainstorming}

{Also it’s spicy}

Alcina always knew she would end up killing him. She just didn’t think it would be over something quite… ridiculous. It all started a month ago when Heisenburg thought it would be hilarious to bring a box set of the human “Twilight” films. Everyone sat down, ready to hate them, and ready to quit watching halfway through the first movie. You knew that the movies were pretty silly but you were still pretty excited to curl up with Alcina on the elaborate sofa for even just a little bit. But two days later they had torn through all five of the movies with a disgusted intrigue that shocked all of them, especially Alcina. The girls wouldn’t shut up about Team Edward or Team Jacob, Heisenburg kept insisting that werewolves weren’t creepy and don’t even imprint at all. Alcina really thought she was going to lose it, and you were stuck watching the chaos unfold. 

Then came the books. When they found out the movies were based on books of course everyone had to get their very own set. You even got on board with this, seeing as you had never read the books when they were popular, and why not join the book club? You were always looking for some way to bond with your new weird family. Alcina refuses to get involved, she won’t even touch the books as though they would burn her skin with a mere graze. Every time she passes by any of you reading you catch her rolling her eyes and turning her chin up towards the ceiling. So dramatic. 

The girls and Heisenburg finish reading before you do, impressively, and you think it must be some sort of supernatural reading ability… or just the ability to focus. They have a meeting everyday to discuss the books for hours, a meeting you’re not invited to.

“You haven’t finished the books, therefore you cannot discuss them with us.” Sofia states sternly when you try to sit around the table with them.

“Yeah but I’m half way through them, I can at least listen.” You reason, desperately hoping this will work but knowing it will fail. Dani comes over and sighs.

“Listen, why don’t you go make out with Mother or something. She much prefers your company.” She gives you a little shove backwards out of the room. Alina, as usual, comes to your rescue and offers a warm reassurance.

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you up later. I’m sure we won’t talk about a lot today. It usually just ends up with Uncle H yelling about how wrong the werewolves are.” Alina soothes. How is she different from her sisters and mother?

“Hey! It’s true! These guys seem like creeps.” He declares from the table behind them. You swallow the lump in your throat, hold your head up high and nod. You won’t let them beat you down anymore.

“Yeah it’s no problem. Don’t want to hear you shit talk something I enjoy anyway.” You turn and head down the hall, as you leave you hear them murmuring about you. 

“Why does your mother keep it around?” He whispers.

“It must taste good or lay well.” Sofia responds, less hushed. Dani laughs and Alina shushes her.

You continue walking toward the library where you gather your book and journal, unsure if you can continue reading after that. You don’t see much point in it now, without anyone to discuss it with. You meander back to your bedroom and let out a sad sigh when you don’t find Alcina there. It isn’t common for her to be there at this time but you were just hoping for something good.

You curl up alone in your massive bed and continue reading. You’re trying not to gag on the sickly sweet dialogue and the choppy narrative when you hear the door open, your heart soars. Swooping in with her big hat and white dress, Lady Dimitrescu arrives in her towering glory. You push up your glasses and give her a once over. She looks divine. 

“God, you’re reading that cursed book. And you’re wearing those pathetic glasses to do so.” She scoffs and makes her way to her personal wine storage kept in the room.

“Lovely to see you too, dearest, my day wasn’t great thanks for asking.” You give her the most sarcasm you can muster before returning to the book. She stops pouring the second glass of wine to look over her shoulder at you.

“What happened? The girls?” You hate the way she knows it’s them. It is always them. You give her a hum as a response which earns you a growl. She glides over to the bed and sets your glass of wine, blood free, on your night stand before making her way to the vanity. “I have had many talks with them and reprimanded them many times. I simply think you will have to try harder to get along, they are not easy to manage.”

You don’t give her a response, you don’t even look up at her from your book, which infuriates her. She loves the way you watch her nighttime ritual with pure adoration in your eyes, but now these insufferable books are ruining everything.

“At least drink your damn wine.” She grumbles, as a passing statement, full of jealousy. How dare something so useless take your full attention away from her? “Or perhaps put down that fucking book.”

This makes you raise a brow. She never uses such strong language, she’s too much of a lady for that, so she must be fed up with this. You keep reading out of spite. Suddenly, she’s on the bed next to you, the smell of her intoxicating you and making you want to give in so bad, but you keep reading. You’re going to make her beg for a change.

“Y/n, if you don’t put the book down…” She’s trying hard to steady her breathing and stay calm. You can’t help but think that it’s kind of cute that she's so desperate for your attention. However, she takes cute to the next level in a split second when she’s suddenly on top of you. The book is smashed into your chest, the hard corners and sharp edges digging into your skin, but completely forgotten. You stare up into her dark eyes and know that she thinks she’s winning. You can’t let that happen.

You wiggle until your arms are free and replace the book in front of your face, but you aren’t really reading anymore. You can hear her teeth grinding together from the other side of it. She wants no part in the game you're playing even though she knows she’ll win. You both know she’ll win, but it’s oh so fun to make her squirm. But soon you’re the one whose squirming as her hand makes its way under your shirt, cold skin making you shiver and sigh but you hold out. She’s playing dirty now.

She teases you until you can’t feel your nipples anymore she still doesn’t remove her hand, knowing she can overstimulate you easily from here. She’s watching your face from over the top of the book, waiting for resignation but when she doesn’t find it her hand wanders lower. She isn’t gentle, not tonight. Tonight isn’t really about you, it’s about her getting you back. She makes quick work of cutting away your pants and underwear with her elongated nail. You fucking hate those things sometimes. 

There’s no slow build up or sweet foreplay, she goes straight for your clit, catching you completely off guard. You moan loudly and press the book against your face for just a moment before you remember this is not how you’re going to lose. You refuse to lose even as her fingers work hard and faster and drive her higher up the wall. You refuse to lose as she roughly slip one, then two, then - fuck - three fingers inside you. 

You forget what game you’re playing when you throw the book on the floor as soon as she pulls you into an oblivion of pleasure. As soon as you come back to earth she starts to pull out of you but you grab her wrist, trying to keep her hand inside of you, but she jerks it away. 

“Ah, ah. This wasn’t for you. This was for me. I wanted my baby back so I got my baby back.” She says very matter of factly as she presses her used fingers to your lips. You accept them into your mouth and clean them with your tongue, full attention on her. “Much better.” She smiles, much calmer and genuinely happy.

“Now, whose team are you on?” She asks, allowing you to speak around your fingers.

“Team Dimitrescu.” 

[emachinescat]

Okay, I’m supposed to be grading papers, but I have to say this really quickly (and I am in no way trying to stir up trouble or create conflict, but I just really need to get this off my chest).  I have seen a lot of negativity on Twitter and Tumblr toward MacGyver and Mac’s character in general.  And it’s really getting me down.  

Of course, people have the right to say what they want wherever they want, but so much negativity toward my favorite show is disheartening for sure.  Especially since we’re in that delicate time when a show is up in the air for cancellation or renewal.  But anyway.

Here are a couple of thoughts (you could call them counterpoints, but I’m not arguing with anyone, and not addressing anyone in particular, just the barrage of negativity I’ve been noticing in general) that I have on the matter:

Regarding the Mac/Desi vs. Mac/Riley situation.  I feel like I’m back in the heyday of Twilight with Team Edward and Team Jacob.  It’s sad to see a fandom so divided.  I’m Team Riley myself, but I also like Desi as a character despite her flaws (because everyone has flaws).  I just don’t think she’s right for Mac.  However, who Mac ends up with isn’t why I started watching the show, and I’m not going to stop watching it no matter who he ends up with.  And if it is a make it or break it deal for some people, there’s nothing wrong with that.  But the bickering, the snide comments, the accusations... We all love this show, right?  Can’t we agree on that one thing, even if we don’t agree on the finer details?

Regarding the inconsistency.  Yes, there has been a ton of inconsistency, especially this season, with tone, characters, plot, and relationships.  But please don’t forget that this show just went through two major upheavals.  First, George Eads left, and with what a beloved character he played, it’s no wonder they’re struggling to regain their footing.  For the most part, I think they’ve done a great job with that.  And second, Covid and everything with L*nkov.  Like, this season is a literal mish-mash of episodes from different showrunners, one decidedly more progressive than the other.  I just wish we could give the new showrunners and the show in general a bit of a break, and a lot of grace.  I honestly think it’s pretty admirable that they’ve struggled so ardently through all of the change and hardship and are still producing a show that tons of people still love and enjoy.

Regarding Mac himself.  I’ve seen quite a few posts criticizing him for becoming unreliable or a bad friend, or accusing him of no longer being the nice person he was at the beginning of the show.  I wholeheartedly disagree.  Has he made some mistakes?  Absolutely.  But mistakes are what make us human.  Also, growing, learning, and reacting to the changes in our world around us makes us human.  If, five seasons in, after searching for, finding, hating, loving, then losing his absentee father, losing people like Zoe and Nasha, finding out his mom and aunt were a part of a terrorist organization, losing his aunt, and then losing Jack, he were still the same person as he was at the beginning of the show, I would be shocked and honestly disappointed.  Yes, Mac fell out a bit with Bozer and made some questionable decisions.  Yes, he has lied some to Desi.  But he realizes his mistakes and desperately has tried to remedy them/reconnect with those he loves.  He even comes to the realization that he has been so wrapped up in his own losses that he has lost sight of some of the most important things/people in his life.  And that, again, shows humanity and growth.  I actually love Mac’s character more now than ever before.

And finally, there’s a lot of speculation and bitterness and frustration surrounding leaked stills and episode descriptions.  However, even though I have become quite invested in MacRiley, I am not going to let the future episodes that I haven’t seen dictate how I view the show now.  We know the writers haven’t always made the best decisions.  But they’ve given us some great moments too.  Also, we know all too well that episode descriptions, stills, and sneak peeks can be very deceiving.  I’m not saying that people shouldn’t freak out about things like this, especially if they are internally freaking out.  I’m just saying this is my personal approach, because I worry about enough stuff in my real life.  I don’t think I can afford to worry about a show as well lol.  

Again, none of this is said in anger or in hate or even criticism.  It’s more so said because it’s been on my chest all day, and I needed to get it out.  If you disagree with my approaches, that’s totally fine.  I’m just trying to scroll past negativity so that I can more fully enjoy the show I love. :)

Okay, back to work for me.  I hope you all have a lovely weekend!

[volturicangetit]

S.U- Imprint

Summary: You, Aro’s child, join your father for the battle against the Cullen clan. What you didn’t expect is for a wolf to imprint on you. 

Request: YES/no Anon: Omg, could you write about Aro's adopted daughter and Sam Uley imprinting on her? Like they're on different sides when the fight with Volturi over Nessie happens. And she's just fearless and he falls in love the minute he lays his eyes on her. It can also be for Jacob Black/Paul Lahote, if you don't feel comfortable writing for Sammy. Thanks! ✨

A/N: Writing for Sam is not problem! I love him. 

Warnings: swearing, mention of Sam being naked

Wordcount: 1041

MASTERLIST

Partaking in a standoff is the last thing you wanted to do today, be these are the kind of things that come along with being in the Volturi. Most of the witnesses that are here for the Volturi keep their distance from the three kings, trying to be respectful. Not you though, no. You're standing next to Aro, you're father, right at the front of the group. You keep your head up and chest forward. You aren't afraid of a fight, you know you could easily win against a coven like the Cullens. Sure, they had some members with extraordinary gifts, but they didn't work as a team all that well, constantly bickering and questioning their own strength. You didn't do that. You know what you're capable of and what your limits are.

" She's born not bitten, " Bella explains from across the field. She shouts, forgetting that we all could hear her even if she whispered. Her newness to the whole vampire lifestyle is apparent. It's quiet for a bit. The three kings look at each other, silently discussing what they should do next. " She grows every single day. ". Your father clearly has enough of the chit-chat, wanting some action he gives Jane a glare. On queue, she looks at Edward who immediately falls onto his knees, screaming in pain. All of a sudden a group of werewolves come running from behind the coven as if they are called by his bloodcurdling scream. You look over them. Some of the wolves are clearly younger. Their bodies are smaller and way less muscular than the others. One wolf stands out though, the big black wolf who stands a bit in front of the pack. Everything about him screams alpha. His eyes are focussed on you. Something in the look in his eyes doesn't suit you well. Edwards screams stop, however, you didn't hear your dad call Jane off. You look over at the Cullens again. Bella's gaze is focused on Edward. You can feel the energy radiating off her. To most, it would go unnoticed, but not to you. You had a gift, not a useful one in your opinion but one none the less. You could sense gifts. You can feel it in the energy around them.

" She's a shield, " you say softly to which your father nods. Aro lifts his hand and Jane stops. You look at the child again. Renesmee, such a weird name. " I can hear her heartbeat, " you say, this time a bit louder. This comment causes the other members of the Volturi to gasp.

" Are you sure? " Marcus asks. You look over at him, the everlasting sad glare present in his eyes. You nod. Your father holds his hand out and you grab it. The black wolf immediately lets out a low growl. You look at him again, eyes still fixed on you. " What the fuck is his problem? " you say as you glance over at Edward. His eyes grow wide as he turns around to look at the wolf.

" Really, Sam? " he asks. Sam, yeah that suits him. You glance between Edward and Aro, confusion is written all over your face. " He imprinted on her. ". At the comment, your dad grips her hand harder. " What! " Caius yells. You shake your head, letting go of your father's hand and throwing your hands in the air.

" Hell no! That fucking dog imprinted on me? Disgusting! ". You and werewolves did not get along. You were livid that they are actually here right now, but you saw it coming considering it was the Cullens you were supposed to fight. " What am I supposed to do with him? Play fetch and be a happy dog owner? Nope. I'm out, this is too much. ".

You turn around and start making your way through the witnesses standing behind you. The dog imprinted on you? That was the last straw, you're going home. You didn't feel like a fight anyway. " You can't leave him. He needs you now. " Bella says. In response, you stick up your middle finger in the air. Sam feels hurt, of course, his imprint rejected him. But at the same time, he is even more drawn to you. You have wit, sass and are not afraid of saying whatever comes to your mind. You didn't even make it far into the woods before the wolf starts running after you. You can hear his heartbeat coming closer and closer so you slow down your running and come to a halt. Sam quickly changes back into his human form. Now standing in front of you is a man, not a fury wolf anymore. " What? " you ask.

" I'm Sam, " he says. He's breathing heavily, chest bouncing up and down. " Look, I know that you don't like. ". You nod to his comment. " But I think we can work this out. Please. ". You sigh, rolling your eyes.

" Look mister hotty pants, here's what's going to happen. " You quickly move so that you're now standing in front of him. You give his chest a small jab with your pointer finger. " I'm going to go home and wonder what in the ever-living fuck I did to deserve being imprinted on by a dog. Then you're going to get desperate and come visit me, which by the way, very bad choice. And then, maybe, I might just tolerate you enough to even consider being in a friendship with you. Yeah? ". He nods happily. Did he like the situation? Not a single bit. He hated vampires, couldn't stand the sight of them. But he knew that he also couldn't live without his imprint. A smile still appears on his face, though. He loves the sass in you. You’re full of life. For being a vampire, you aren’t all that bad. 

You give him a quick smile and start to walk away from him further into the woods again. You give him a last look over your shoulder. " Oh, and by the way, " you say, " You're not wearing clothes. ". His eyes widen at your comment as he immediately covers his private parts. You snicker softly before running off again, leaving him alone and a blushing mess.

TWILIGHT TAGLIST:

@scuzmunkie​ @thanossexual​ @prettyinblack231​

[thedaughterofkings]

Team Jacob

Written for @sterekweek-2020, Day 1: Scene stealer, and I have no excuse apart from a very sleep deprived mind and that one pic from Season 1 where Derek looks extra pale, you know the one! All sentences you recognise are obviously from Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight.

About three things Stiles was absolutely positive. 

First, Derek Hale was a vampire.

Second, there was a part of him - and Stiles didn’t know how potent that part might be - that wanted to eat him. Though probably not in the fun way.

And third, Stiles was not going to be the Bella Swann of this scenario. 

Which is why he’s standing in the woods with said hungry vampire and quoting Bella Swann.

“I know what you are.”

As if to prove Stiles’ theory, Derek’s brow wrinkles artfully.

“You are impossibly fast and strong. Your skin is really pale, though I have no idea whether it’s cold or warm because there’s never been any good opportunity to ask to feel you up. I’ve never seen you eat or drink anything, though that evidence is inconclusive because I’ve pretty much only seen you in the woods or creeping around school, and you are definitely not seventeen, but then not everyone has to be bitten at seventeen, right? But anyways, I know what you are,” he ends triumphantly.

Derek looks - mostly constipated actually, but perhaps that’s just par for the course for vampires.

“What are you talking about?” he asks and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I know what you are,” he repeats, and Derek finally returns to the script, at least mostly.

“Well, say it then.”

“You’re a vampire,” Stiles states proudly and is more than a little offended when Derek snorts loudly.

“What?!”

“You’re a vampire,” Stiles repeats himself again, glaring at Derek’s stupid, grinning face. He hadn’t even known the man could smile, never mind grin! He’d say it suits him, but it’s a grin at Stiles’ expense, so obviously it’s horrid. (It really, really isn’t.) Derek still doesn’t look convinced, so Stiles also repeats his list of hard, cold evidence (get it? Hard and cold - like a vampire!):

“You are super fast and strong, way too pale, live in a house - of sorts - in the woods, you are a terrible creeper around high schoolers, and I’ve definitely seen your eyes change colour, though I don’t know what colour blue represents - eats only fish? Are you a pescatarian vampire?”

“You think I’m a pescatarian vampire? When I don’t even sparkle?”

Stiles gasps and points excitedly:

“You’ve seen Twilight!!!”

And then Derek has the chuzpe to shake his head.

“No, I haven’t.” But then he smirks and adds: “I’ve read it.”

“That’s worse!” Stiles shakes his head. “Something’s obviously very wrong with you.”

“But at least I don’t sparkle,” Derek offers and Stiles sighs. 

“I knew something didn’t fit. But what are you then, and don’t even think about lying, because as I said, something is clearly very wrong with you, and it’s not just that you’ve read Twilight!”

“I’m not a vampire,” Derek starts and Stiles rolls his eyes. They’d certainly established that. 

“I’m a born werewolf.”

Stiles really should have seen that one coming.

“As if,” he scoffs and Derek frowns.

“No, for real, I’m a werewolf, look” he insists and Stiles yelps when Derek’s impressive eyebrows suddenly disappear, no, transform into sideburns? And then there’s the fangs, can’t forget those, and of course the blue eyes.

“So I guess blue eyes don’t mean pescatarian then, do they?” he asks and Derek shakes his head. For some reason such a human gesture looks extra weird with the decidedly superhuman face.

“You’re no Jacob, that’s for sure,” Stiles mutters and yelps again when Derek’s features transform back suddenly, revealing a frown.

“At least I’m not in love with you just because I will be in love with your child,” he snipes back and Stiles gapes at him.

“Shut up,” Derek grumbles and Stiles squawks.

“I didn’t even say anything!” he protests and then narrows his eyes as a thought occurs to him suddenly:

“You can’t hear my thoughts, can you? That was totally Edward’s thing, not Jacobs’!”

“No, but I can hear your heartbeat,” Derek replies and Stiles scrunches up his nose.

“That’s only mildly less creepy, thanks.” 

He chews on his lower lip for a moment and then comes to a decision.

“Okay, you are going to buy me a lot of curly fries and a big milkshake and then you are going to explain all of this properly - especially what’s wrong with Scott, I really need help there.”

To his surprise, Derek doesn’t even object, just turns and starts leading them out of the woods again. Stiles watches him walk away for a few seconds and then shrugs and follows him.

“I did always like Jacob better,” he mutters and ahead of him Derek stumbles over thin air. 

[cherienymphe]

Honestly, Bella was horrible too. She was literally only interested in Edward because he was a vampire and only started to show interest in jacob once she found out he wasn’t human too. Her life was boring and she wanted excitement and she would honestly find that in any person she could for her own selfish gain. The woman would’ve dated Alice if Edward didn’t exists. (Which I would’ve enjoyed more than the actual movie itself). Let not forget the only reason she married Edward was because he said he’d turn her into a vampire. She took everything for granted, was selfish and still got everything and everybody she wanted. She nor Edward spent a lick of time with their daughter in the last movie. Edward thought teaching his daughter those quick notes on the piano was parenting. But anyways, the movie should’ve been about Rosalie or Alice or Carlisle or the wolves. I love the movies (guilty pleasure) but ole girl Bella, wasn’t it. The books make her better in a way. But their love was not epic or beautiful in anyway. They were manipulative to one another and didn’t give a fuck about anyone not even their daughter.

I mean if we’re strictly talking about the movies, I would agree with this in some sense. The movies took out so much of their personalities it was laughable. Now in the books, they loved them some resume. Bella loved that child even as it was killing her (and I’ll say it for the movies too because she was literally willing to die, and DID, for her daughter).

Their love story was way more detailed in the books. We actually saw moments where they bonded and got to know each other. Like the time Edward spent literally the whole day just asking Bella questions? And when her favorite color would change depending on the color of his eyes that day? His being brown because her eyes were brown? The blood typing/fainting scene? I could read about their story over and over.

Now as far as Jacob goes, y’all know I’m not team jake so I’m definitely biased, but I never believed she had feelings for him. She definitely attached herself to him more when she found out he was a wolf and I think that had a lot to do with Edward. I think she was trying to get back some of that life she lost when Edward left, and tbh…who could blame her? There’s no way I’d be able to go back to my regular schmegular life after having a whole vampire boyfriend and a future vampire family.

And yeah she did marry him just so she could be a vampire but not because she didn’t love him. Bella just didn’t believe in marriage (which some people don’t) and considering her parents’ marriage, it was understandable. Edward didn’t want to turn her in fear for her soul and the life she should have. They both did things they didn’t really want to do in exchange for something they both wanted. I believe this is what henry clay calls a compromise. She wanted to be with Edward forever so she was willing to do something that would make him happy and almost make up for “damning her soul”.

[satashiiwrites]

Book Review: Dracula by Bram Stoker

A true classic you say?  And it’s October?  Gotta take a break from random nonfiction topics for research and science fiction to read a horror novel or something slightly scary. Beware of abuse of inappropriate gifs below. 

This year’s selection was much better... 

than last year’s (ugh Frankenstein..)

So maybe I just wasn’t in the mood for Mary Shelly’s famous novel last year—the audiobook was even read by Dan Stevens and I usually enjoy his work!  Either way, the first speculative fiction or science fiction novel really wasn’t my cup of tea last year. So I picked a different classic of horror: Dracula.

I mean, every female goes through their vampire novel phase. There’s the Anne Rice phase (if you’re old enough)...

Then there’s the whole Twilight Team Edward vs Team Jacob.

I must confess... I’ve never read any of the Twilight books and I’ve only seen the first movie before being done with all that—it’s more my younger sister’s type of book/series than mine. Sparkly vampires just weren’t for me alas—definitely Team Jacob here if I had to pick. But that might have been about the time I watched a season or two of Teen Wolf. 

(Dean tells me they kill the sparkly ones for free)

Anyways... I moved past the twilight thing pretty fast and wasn’t drawn in. When I next returned to vampires I did as you do and wandered by Eric Northman.  When you meet Eric, you’ve arrived finally at what an adult’s vampire novel should be (maybe or my brain may just need that sort of candy on the regular). 

So horror isn’t really my genre. But I make an effort each October to get out of my usual wheelhouse and enjoy something seasonally appropriate. 

I was dragging my feet about choosing something when I came across a random mention about Bram Stoker on a podcast I listen going to and from work.  And wow... the man was a nerd. Bram Stoker was the biggest Walt Whitman fanboy ever.  If he had a tumblr it would be wall to wall Whitman stuff. He also was a big plotter-style writer—i aspire someday to be so motivated. He mapped out the entire journey that it would have taken to get from Transylvania to England—train timetables, ships etc. The wreck of the Demeter—how Dracula gets to England—was actually based on a real shipwreck where there was noted to be a dog as the only survivor. Stoker interviewed the villagers about that shipwreck. The town of Whitby is where Stoker also spent most of his summers.

So Stoker was a big nerd. And oddly a contemporary of Oscar Wilde too. This was also the time of peak Invasion literature. H G Wells, Arthur Conan Doyle, Rudyard Kipling are all writing at this time.

Dracula is written in epistolary format, which I don’t read a lot of stuff in this method but did work well for the novel and sets up your expectations for the different characters—Jonathan Harker, his wife Mina Harker, Dr. Van Helsing etc. It’s got your typical gothic novel writing and language which I enjoyed much more this time around—but it might have been because of the audiobook format.  The description of setting and places, the weather, the darkness.... it was thematically really good even if very gothic by it’s nature. 

Maybe read it by candlelight?  I at least played some appropriate music. 

So I thought I knew the Dracula story.  I mean, everyone’s seen a few versions of it by now—it’s one of the most widely adapted novels out there. 

Dracula Dead and Lovin’ It is a particular favorite seasonal movie of my extended family. 

But the latest adaptation I’ve watched is either the BBC one:

I’m going to forget there’s the whole third episode of that one.  Yes to the first two episodes. Big nope on the third. (Side note: What the hell Moffat and Gatiss? What did I watch on that third episode?  Claes Bang was fantastic as was Jonathan but that third episode is an absolute disaster! I could even get with the awesome female version of Van Helsing merged with Sister Agatha but that third episode should be forgotten in some dark abyss and never see the light of day again)

Or Castelvania on netflix.  

I’m not too sure which one was last—i watched them back to back. But Trevor and Alucard are amusing at least even if the whole Dracula schtick is completely redone and only barely recognizable. I actually thought Dracula was more interesting even if he was almost unrecognizable. 

But...

And I gotta say.... almost all the adaptations completely do Mina and Jonathan’s relationship completely wrong if they’re straight up adaptations of the novel. Just soooooo wrong. It’s a great love story that Mina drops everything to travel to Budapest and still marries Jonathan even though he’s an absolute mess. They truly are the prototype for Gomez and Morticia Addams as someone else has noted.  

Van Helsing isn’t nearly the caricature that he easily becomes in adaptations and it somehow always escapes me that he’s actually Dutch. And that he isn’t all knowing but instead has his suspicions confirmed by how poor Lucy progresses. Ya know... like an actual professional physician?

No not that Van Helsing... the Doctor one!

I don’t recall any version of Quincey Morris in most adaptations. Why there’s not an American cowboy wandering around England?  I mean this is comedic gold there. And let’s be honest, Lucy Westenra only being able to marry one man was problematic. 

Poor Dr. Seward. Dracula Dead and Loving it really did mess up Seward and Jonathan Harker. 

But at least it gave us Peter Macnicol as Renfield.

Neeways. I enjoyed the book. I highly recommend the audible version with Alan Cumming and Tim Curry.  Get the real Dracula origin story.

[artificialqueens]

A Vampire in Paris: Part 3 (Gigi/Crystal) - Chae

A/N: well this took ten times longer than i expected… so sorry for the wait! (was anyone waiting? idk) hopefully I can update this at LEAST once a week for now ee. anyway thank you all so much for the support on the first two chapters, i’m so glad people enjoy my wacky fashion-vampire fantasy

Summary:  Gigi has an… interesting encounter with the supermodel trio and makes some big changes with Crystal

—-

Well, this was a situation.

Gigi broke out into a slight sweat as Aquaria, Naomi, and Valentina peered right into her soul at the cafe. She smiled awkwardly as she took a sip of water, seemingly the only one who actually drank… or ate. And she was eating a salad! In Paris! What the fuck were they looking at her like that for?!

The youngest model was still tired from the previous night, trying to push down her discomfort with happy thoughts of kissing Crystal. The ginger had tried desperately to look her best for her lunch date with the supermodels, shocked that they still didn’t seem impressed. After a long bout of silence as the three older girls eyed Gigi eating, Valentina piped up across from her.

“Gigi… what’s that short for?”

The aforementioned girl swallowed a lettuce leaf. “Genevieve. Genevieve Regina Goode.”

“That sounds like a movie character,” the tan beauty laughed. “I like your name.”

“Thanks. How did you get Valentina?”

“What do you mean? That’s just my name.”

“Oh,” Gigi cringed internally.”What’s your last name?”

“Hm, it’s been so long I don’t remember,” the girl smiled dopily as Aquaria slapped her arm next to her, annoyed. Gigi raised an eyebrow and Aquaria smiled fakely.

“We don’t really use our last names, except for Naomi because hers is easy,” the blonde said through her teeth, glaring at Valentina. The latter looked, confused, between Gigi and Aquaria. From next to her, Gigi could sense Naomi giving Valentina a look as well. 

“Oh!” She finally said, her face contorting into realization. “Yeah, we don’t use them,” the latina nodded. 

Gigi looked down, feeling as if she’d stumbled onto something she shouldn’t have—which was exactly what she wanted. Maybe she should press further…

“Why haven’t you guys eaten? These salads have a lot of good vitamins and stuff. I know we’re pressured into being like a size-negative-ten but what you ordere-”

“We already ate,” Naomi interrupted. “And if you feel self-conscious, sweets, don’t. Salads are good for you.”

“And you won’t have to worry about it much longer,” Valentina added earnestly. However, her kind… sentiment (?)… was not appreciated by the other two.

“Oh my god, shut up!” Aquaria whacked her on the back of the head. “You wanna get fired or something?!”

“I’m sorry guys,” Gigi tried to stop the drama. “I didn’t mean to intrude on whatever is happening-”

“No, no no! It’s not your fault,” Naomi explained, placing a freezing cold hand on Gigi’s shoulder. “It’s just that Valentina…”

“Valentina doesn’t know what she’s talking about, doll,” Aquaria smiled.

“Guuuuys I’m sorry!” Valentina whined. “I just keep forgetting she’s not a va-”

“Member of our team!” Aquaria shouted. “She’s not a member of our team,” the Italian jerked her head to the side, leaning towards Valentina and whispering something in her ear. The brunette’s eyebrows curved upwards as she whispered frantic sorries to her friend, who appeared absolutely venomous. Naomi rolled her eyes.

“We should head out and do some shopping, no? Maybe Val will be distracted by all the shiny things,” Naomi got up, rifling through her small purse for cash. Gigi nodded, just wanting to get out of this situation as soon as she could.

Soon enough, they were browsing at a beauty store—and yes, Valentina was distracted by the sparkly eyeshadows (go figure). Gigi wandered away from her ‘friends’ to the hair section, nearly passing by the dyes before a thought popped into her head. She grabbed two boxes of color and a toner off the shelf and smiled, paying for her items before finding the rest of the group. 

“Bought stuff already?” Aquaria looked at Gigi’s bag quizzically.

“It’s not makeup or anything, just had to restock,” the redhead lied.

“Oh, nice,” the blonde turned back to the lipstick she was trying on. Gigi filled the silent air by perusing the makeup counters, trying to not look too interested.

Naomi was texting someone with a coy smile plastered on her face, causing Gigi to remember something else odd she hadn’t addressed yet. 

“Aquaria?” She asked.

“Hm?”

“How did you get my number? I never found out.”

“Right. I asked Adore.”

“Adore doesn’t have my number…”

“Adore has everyone’s number,” she snapped, clearly looking annoyed. Gigi shrunk back and bit her lip. “The bitch has her ways,” Aquaria added.

“Can’t Fame access everyone’s data n’ stuff?” Valentina said offhandedly.

“What? Fame? Like Miss Fame?”

“Valentina, I’m going to rip your head off and smash it with my stiletto,” Aquaria threatened. 

“I thought Fame was… dead?” Gigi pressed.

“She is.”

“She is.”

Both Naomi and Aquaria looked the new model dead in the eyes, not a hint of intonation in their voices. Valentina, once again, looked at them confusedly, but held her tongue. Gigi felt the same glare that Raven had pierce her soul once again, and decided that enough was enough of these creeps. She stole away into the next aisle and ordered an Uber to pick her up ASAP. She peeked over the display and told the girls she was going to the bathroom, to which they nodded in unison without leaving their tasks. On that note, Gigi slinked out of the store and as far down the street as her heeled feet would take her.

She texted Crystal as she waited for the Uber, impatiently tapping her foot on the concrete ground.

Sexy Robot🥵🤖

heyyy, wanna meet up at your place? i have a surprise 

Hot Clown🤡🔥

DUH OMG u know I can’t wait 

when are u comin?

Sexy Robot🥵🤖

I’ll be there in like 20 mins 

Hot Clown🤡🔥

I can’t wait to see u🥺🥺🥺

Sexy Robot🥵🤖

keep your panties on, boss

Hot Clown🤡🔥

Don’t ever call me boss again you whore 

Sexy Robot🥵🤖

only for u ;)

Gigi smiled as her Uber finally arrived, excited to talk to Crystal after what happened the night prior. She’d not only had a steamy makeout session with a hot designer, she’d kissed the girl she liked when they were both semi-sober-ish. Her happiness was short-lived, though, when she received a text from Aquaria on a group chat she’d been added to. She exhaled nervously as she shut the car door, telling the driver where to go.

Hottest Hoes in Paris⭐️⭐️

Aquafina

Has anyone seen Gigi?

You’ve been in the bathroom an awful long time bitch

French Vanilla Fantasy

no :(

did she leave?!

GIGI WHERE ARE YOU

Bebe Badde

aaaa sorry guys I wasn’t feeling well!

LegsLegsLegsLegs

Awe babe you should have told us

Feel well soon

French Vanilla Fantasy

i send all my love to you!! 💛💘💚💘❤️💝💚💞💓❤️💘

Aquafina

Ya feel better!

Gigi sighed, having successfully escaped the strangest outing she’d ever been on. The drive to Fatelle was shorter than she’d expected, the model barely realizing she had reached her destination before paying the driver and nearly leaping out of the car. She sped into the lobby, saying hi to Adore before bounding to the elevator. She was almost giddy at the prospect of seeing Crystal again, unfamiliar with having a crush this strong. Gigi felt like she and Crystal fit together like puzzle pieces: anything she didn’t have, the designer did, and vice versa. But they still came together in the same picture, with the same values and dreams and—gosh, they were a match made in heaven.

Gigi gripped the shopping bag as she reached Crystals floor, finding her room (Crystal had texted her where she lived a few days prior) and knocking on the door. It opened almost immediately to a grinning Crystal, dressed in cute casual clothes and fluffy ugg slippers.

“What’s the surprise?” She said right away, letting the younger girl inside.

“First of all, hi,” Gigi rolled her eyes, giving the shorter girl a quick peck on the cheek. “Second of all, you’ll see. Third of all — you will not believe the day I’ve had.”

“Dang, it’s two PM!”

“And shits wild!”

“Spill.” Crystal plopped on the couch, motioning for Gigi to join her. The ginger kicked her shoes off and made herself comfortable, propping her tired legs on the coffee table. 

“So I met up with Aquaria and Naomi and Valentina…”

“No way!”

“Yes, Aqua invited me. And it was insane.”

“How?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I think Fatelle is the Illuminati?”

“Honestly, with some of the shit that’s been going on…”

“Right?! Okay, they literally kept saying Miss Fame might be alive?”

“She’s alive in my heart, but… it’s been a whole century.”

“And they acted like it was real! And then Valentina said that I wouldn’t have to eat soon?“

“What? Why?”

“Like I wouldn’t physically need to eat.”

“That’s fucking weird.”

“It was the strangest thing. Am I in the Twilight Zone?”

“Maybe you’re in the Twilight! Edward or Jacob?”

“Edward.”

“Good choice. Edward.”

The two shared a chuckle, Crystal’s eyes flitting to the bag Gigi had brought.

“Is that the surprise?”

Gigi smirked, getting up and pulling out a box of bleach, purple toner, and a box of natural red dye. “Don’t think I didn’t remember what you said!”

“No! Oh my gosh you’re the best!” Crystal grabbed her dye and grinned widely, eyes crinkled in a cute way. “We have to do this now.”

“Raven’s gonna be pisssssed,” Gigi remembered, not really caring anyway.

“Raven is basically Edward’s cousin, who cares?”

“Oh shit she is like Edwards’ cousin! Bitch looks all pale and dark haired and ooky and spooky.”

“My mind.”

“Your mind.”

The two made their way to the bathroom, opening their goodies and setting up to do each other’s hair. Crystal wrapped a towel around Gigi’s shoulders, knowing her process would be much more time consuming.

“Have you done hair before?” The model asked as Crystal mixed up the bleach.

“For sure, I dyed my hair back to brown so I could look professional when I came here,” she laughed. “I had neon green before, remember?”

“Right!” 

Gigi couldn’t say she wasn’t nervous when Crystal began applying the dye to the ends of her hair, but trusted the designers judgement and vision. It was her fashion show, after all. The older girl worked quickly, yet thoroughly. She was used to working with her difficult curly hair, so it was easy for her to comb through Gigi’s nearly-straight locks. Strand by strand, she painted the bleach on with her gloved hands, unaware that her work was nearly causing Gigi to fall asleep at the calming feeling of her hair being lightly tugged. She model nearly dozed off when Crystal started massaging her scalp to make sure the roots were coated. Finally, Crystal was happy with her work, snapping Gigi back into reality when she placed a shower cap over the models head.

“Sleepyhead, you’ve gotta do my hair now,” Crystal discarded her latex gloves, brushing the back of her hand against Gigi’s cheek. “In half an hour you gotta take a shower with the toner, and then when you’re done, I take a shower and then we both have new hair!”

“I have a suggestion,” Gigi yawned. “Why don’t you keep giving me a head massage and I go to bed?”

“If you want your hair to fall out, sure.”

Gigi rolled her eyes, getting up to open the red box dye. She took out the components, following directions to mix the bottles together and shake it up. Apprehensively, she started squeezing the fluid all over Crystal’s hair and running it through the coils. “Is this right?”

“Just make sure every strand is coated, but yeah!” she smiled at Gigi through the mirror, and Gigi smirked back.

“So, do we need to talk about last night at all?” the model asked as she worked.

“Do you think we need to?”

“I mean, if we’re on the same page, no.”

“Are we?”

“What’s the definition of the same page, then?”

“Um… I liked kissing you?”

“Good, then we’re definitely on the same page,” Gigi blushed. She looked in the mirror for a second and laughed. “I look like a lunch lady!”

“Shush, you look pretty no matter what.”

“Says you, Crystalline Elizabeth.”

“Says the model, Genevieve Regina!”

“Oh. Well.”

“You bitch! You’re supposed to tell me how great I am.”

“Crystal Methyd, you are perfect.”

“I know I am.”

“Who’s the bitch now, bitch?”

This went on as Gigi finished applying the color to Crystal’s hair, placing her own cap over the voluminous mass of hair. Crystal checked the time. “You should go take a shower, Gi. And make sure to leave that toner on for ten minutes!”

“Got it,” she replied as Crystal exited the luxury bathroom into the bedroom. 

“I’ll leave you out some comfy clothes, hm?”

“What, you wanna cuddle and watch movies with me later?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Thank god. I’ll see you soon,” Gigi leaned in for another quick peck on the cheek, a new habit she’d grown quite fond of. She shut the door and turned on the tap, waiting for the water to warm up before undressing and stepping inside.

Gigi was tired, but the steam against her skin helped balance her energy once again. She removed the shower cap, eyes widening at how light her hair was. She was used to her red hair turning almost-black when wet, but it was now a dirty brown color under the water. The dry strands were a nearly-white yellow. This will take some adjusting to, she thought as she quirted a glob of toner in her hands. She worked it through her hair for a couple minutes, careful to get every last bit. The next ten minutes were spent trying to keep her head out of the shower whilst keeping her body in, which was a difficult task that often left Gigi shivering without the warmth of the water on her body, only to put her arm or leg back in.

The model stepped out of the glass shower into the bathroom that was nearly identical to her own. She wiped the fog away from the mirror and stood, as she did, scanning her body. She was healthy, but extraordinarily petite. Many her size would have bones jutting out, maybe even appearing emaciated, but not Gigi. Her figure was all smooth lines and gentle curves. She had a waist and hips, but they certainly weren’t defined. Her breasts followed the outer curves of her chest, small and close together. She was a model. She looked like a model.

Gigi grabbed a towel once she noticed the goosebumps on her arms, using it to dry off and then wrapping it around herself. She decided to use the hairdryer as well, since apart from her hair taking forever to dry on its own, she wanted to see what it looked like now. As her locks returned to their normal state, Gigi could see that Crystal did a near-perfect job. Her hair was evenly colored a light-barbie-doll blonde all around — not too yellow, not too silver. She certainly looked like a barbie doll. She felt like one.

The girl exited the bathroom into the attached bedroom, calling out to Crystal that she was done. She found a set of satin pajama shorts and a shirt, surprised that the designer owned something so fancy. She changed quickly, feeling more than comfortable in this outfit.

As Crystal took her time in the bathroom, Gigi grew… bored. She felt lonely scrolling through Instagram all by herself, so she shut off her phone and sank back into the couch. Her eyes flickered from the ceiling, to the window, to the TV, and finally, to the bedroom entryway. Gigi wasn’t really the mischievous type, but hey, when in Paris. She smirked as she got up, starting by looking through Crystal’s dresser. Nothing of importance, really: just makeup, underwear (oh hey, those were garters… she wondered what those would look like on Crystal…), stacks and stacks of jewelry. So the model opted to look through the closet, a favorite activity of hers. Crystal’s wardrobe nearly burned Gigi’s eyes out when she first opened the doors. Colors and patterns everywhere, unorganized platform shoes falling over the floor. It was so bad, it was beautiful. Gigi began with the shoes, definitely wanting to steal some of them for herself.

As she got lost in Crystal’s fashion tastes, she failed to hear the shower shutting off and Crystal entering the bedroom, the newly-ginger letting out a yelp as she realized Gigi was there. The younger girl whipped around to see Crystal attempting to cover herself up with her hands, flustered beyond belief at the fact that she was…

butt naked.

[theskyequakess]

(Warning: you’re about to find a very emotional, sappy and ridiculous text wrote by my inner teenager in a very questionable English. You’ve been warned, I’m not responsible for all the cringe this may contain.)

These two books are 11 years apart.

The first one -may not need an introduction, but you know me, I like to be dramatic- is Twilight in its pocket version and of course, in Spanish. It was given to me on December 25th when I was 13 years old. I was newly in the Twilight world (not fandom, because at that time I had no idea what that was xdd), just one month before I was stepping in the movie theater to watch New Moon.

Yeah, as you read it. I got myself into this WITH NEW MOON. This is a very ‘me’ move.

My cousin invited me to go to the movies, I had no idea what I was watching, she told me the basics: he’s a vampire, she’s a normal girl, they’re in love. And I just went like that. I even remember watching it in Spanish (and if you know me, you’ll know I HATE TO WATCH MOVIES IN SPANISH AKDJSSDKJ), and even though I was not sure what was happening half of the time, I was like ‘ohmygodddd’.

I was a naïve and unexperienced teenager, okay?

I walked out of there ready to know EVERYTHING about Twilight.

Fast forward to December when I finally got the first book and my Twilight-journey officially began.

Then I remember saving my allowance to buy all the other books, and as time progressed, the movies. Let’s not forget all the merchandising and magazines I bought. OH BOY.

(Yeah, they are all different because Breaking Dawn is hardcover, Eclipse and New Moon are the normal versions, Twilight the pocket version —all of them are Spanish version. While Midnight Sun is an English version. Bad for my OCD, but they are meaningful to me)

Anyway, I’m not ashamed to say that the Twilight Saga opened me the door to read books. Sure, I’ve always been a person who loved to read ANYTHING. Tales, magazines, encyclopedias, school books, normal books… but those books made me want to read more, to look for more genres, to find adventures and things I liked… so Twilight at 13 years old was my start.

I remember becoming the person who read more books in my literature class, I DEVOURED books. I was so happy.

When I think back of those times, myself in middle school, I remember better times, easiest time. I remember talking (and fighting lol) with my friends about Team Edward vs Team Jacob. Being exited about the premieres, collecting things and just being dumb and young lol.

I still can’t believe Stephenie Meyer finally finished writing this book, I still remember when it was leaked and she said she’ll never finish it writing. I WAS SO SAD BECAUSE I REALLY WANTED TO KNOW EDWARD’S POV + DREAMING ABOUT KNOWING WHAT WAS GOING IN HIS HEAD AND IN THE OTHER CULLEN’S WHEN BELLA VISITED THEIR HOUSE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

Now time has passed, I’m 23 years old, I’ve grown and become another person, but I still fangirl about Twilight because even though it can be ridiculous, idk it takes me back to better and simpler times. AND MY LOVE FOR ALICE WILL EVER PERSIST LOL

And as yesterday I opened the package, I recognized that happiness from when I was a teenager and I felt so happy and relieved to feel it.

And one more thing that makes me kinda proud? This time I was able to buy the book in English, because now I believe I can read it completely in English… being this MY FIRST TIME I BUY A BOOK IN ENGLISH!!!

I’ve read tons of fanfics, texts, articles and whatever you can imagine in English, but this is my first time BUYING A BOOK IN ENGLISH TO READ IT.

I’m so excited to know who much time will take me to read it, as I know -in Spanish- I can read a normal book in 2 days.

And now to finish this, I’ll like to share Stephenie’s dedication, because as I read it, my eyes filled with tears because it’s so true, I’ve really feel it, I was 13 years old when all this started and now I’m 23, and even if things haven’t been easy, and I still have a long way to go, I’m in the right way.  I know my old me feels proud of me.

Andddd I'm going to read now, see ya👋🏻

[parkeraul]

→ boyfriend  •  1 | t.h. & s.m.

prologue | part 1

author’s note — hello, girlfriends. first of all, i really wanna apologise for the lack of writings lately & for this shitty moodboard. plus, i wanna give the hugest shoutout to @itrocksmysocks who’s been sending me pictures and stuff to help me get inspiration to write this series [thank u so much, latina neighbour!]. for now, i’m gonna update this series once in a week, then the next i’m gonna reserve the next one to write, then update on the following week and it’ll go on and on. enjoy!

pairing: tom holland x shawn mendes x reader college!tom | college!shawn

masterlist ┊add yourself to my taglists ┊give me feedbacks.

words — 3,4k; warnings — flirting, cursing, mentions of alcoholic drinks.

“People on the very back: Listen!” Mrs. Edwards shouts, banging against the board twice with her pen. “This graphic is very simple, okay? If you keep on talking and talking, it’ll become your worst nightmare and there will be no help during the final test.”

The white board had been completely taken over by lists of informations, numbers, theories  and graphics in at least 3 different colours. It’s been an hour or almost two since she started crossing the entire board with red, green, blue & black and Tom feels amazed by how well she manages to understand the entire system she’s been writing for so many time. As a class he signed for just to have some more complementary hours, he can straight tell you he’s not exactly caring about it that much. It’s way too fast and too mathematic for his mind.

All the people sitting around him in the classroom are already letting the tiredness consume them. Some are sighing and dropping their pencils; some are rubbing their faces repeatedly; some others are actually paying attention and probably trying hard not to freak out. Considering the white walls with white tables and chairs, if no one said that this is a math class, people would probably walk in and think it’s a sanatorium. All faces exhausted and it’s clear to see that at least 90% of the class can’t wait for the summer break to rescue them all — the 10% left is filled with the boys that have been sleeping for the past 30 minutes.

“Next class we’ll get back to the basic analysis to freshen up a bit, I recommend you to bring one or two books to do some research as well—“

“Hey, dude,” Jacob whispers close to Tom, sitting on the chair in front of him as he turns his head — far enough to see Tom leaning in through his peripheral, but not far enough to lose sight of Mrs. Edwards giving further endorsements. “Match tomorrow at 5?” “Sure,” Tom agrees, keeping his ‘attentive’ on the teacher in front of the class. “Have you guys picked the entire team already?” He says nonchalantly. It’s typical: In Fridays, after everyone’s last class, friendly football match with the boys from the athletic team of the Empshire University.

“Ian, Ryan, Heather and Matthew: You guys cannot miss the next class at all. You guys have been bailing for a long time and one more skip it’s deadline for the four of you—“

“Same thing,” Jacob says and Tom starts to close his books, pulling his backpack up to tuck them inside of it haphazardly. “But we’ll add John Mayer to it because Kevin’s not coming.” “You don’t have to say John Mayer, his gang’s not here,” They both look around the classroom, failing at being discreet as they search for any friends of… Well… ’John Mayer’.  Tom zips his bag close and Jacob turns around to do the same while everyone else’s already prompting themselves up to leave. “And you better put him in the defenders, far away from the frontline.” “I knew you’d say this!” They laugh under their breaths, also getting up to finally inspire some fresh air outside.

“See you next Thursday.” Mrs. Edwards says almost quietly, arranging her stuff while the room starts to get empty.

The corridor had never felt this comfy before. It’s crowded and a little bit loud but a lot better than Classroom number 9. As students from all courses starts talking to each other, Tom takes a look across the wall and spots new posters.

This wall is known as The Great Wall of Empshire —or Wall–E for the intimates. The Wall–E is a large blue wall that stands out from the regular white & grey ones of the building. Also, is where students pin folders and posters to warn the whole college about whatever seems to be relevant. It mostly holds notices of people looking for roommates, lost & found stuff, a special space painted in red for teacher’s announcements and messages from the secretariat of the university. As the results of the finals and classes stuff starts to fade away, the posters to summer parties slowly take over the big blue rectangle in the exact middle of the corridor to one of the two buildings that build the Empshire University.

Coming closer, Tom watches Missy climbing tiny–trembling stairs to glue a folder about Musical Theatre auditions. She’s sure struggling and, although he feels bad, he laughs in anyways as low as he can. Obviously, he doesn’t come out as subtle as he planned and gets a very–stressed Missy Langford slicing his entire being in two with the mad look in her blue eyes.

“You’re being very helpful by laughing,” She huffs, tapping the big poster repetitively to make sure it won’t fall for the next week. “Asshole.” “Oh, Miss, come on,” He teases, smirking like the asshole she just called him. “I thought we were over that part. Asshole! – Idiot! – Douche! Get outta here! You know? Last summer’s business, love,” Tom brings up a memory they both shared some time ago, knowing how pissed she’d get with the dialogue all over Tom’s charming accent in a playful tone, which sure has nothing to do with the atmosphere of the moment itself. “I swear to God that if this thing was any stronger, I’d jump onto your face right now.” After rolling her eyes, Missy spits at Tom and sees his smile widening stupidly. “Anyways,” Crossing arms, Tom steps closer to the Wall–E and leans against a blank space. “What’s that?” “We’re doing Hairspray,” She answers flatly. “Not that you’re allowed to subscribe, of course.” “Who said?” Tom frowns and squeaks way louder than usual. What now? Is she going to forbid him to audition to an open–invitation? “Jesus.”   Tom’s jaw falls dramatically, “Oh! Swearing to God… Talking to Jesus, apparently,” He quirks an eyebrow, faking surprise. “Didn’t know you had friends outside college.” “Will you shut the fuck up and help me get down?” Missy gives the poster one last strong tap — probably thinking about slapping Tom’s face instead — and stretches an arm towards him. “Not that you deserve it, but–“

Tom goes silent at the moment he gets his back off the wall to help Missy, noticing Jacob coming closer suddenly with someone else.

“Is it here?” The person with Jacob asks, holding a big orange poster. “Yep,” He confirms. “We call it Wall–E!” The answer to his information is just a laughter that makes Tom immediately forget about giving Missy a hand, bringing him to step closer to the conversation. “Hey man, where were you?” At the moment Tom asks, Jacob instantly gets what he’s trying to do. Not that Tom wasn’t kinda nosy sometimes, but they’ve been hanging out enough for his moves to look predictable. Way too predictable. Jacob says nothing, only squints his eyes and the silence suiting the four of them is slightly uncomfortable. “Uhm… I asked him for help as he was waiting for people to open some space so we… Could… Walk until here.” The voice is hesitant and sweet, although, while Missy eyes the person — The person looks at Tom, then looks down — Tom looks back & Jacob watches Tom prepare a whole scene inside his mind. “There’s some tape upon that tiny cabinet that you can use,” Jacob points to the front, past Tom and Missy Langford, “And if you can put it wherever you want as long as it’s in the blue area.” “Thank you so much! I’ll help myself with anything, don’t wanna take more of your time.” “No worries,” Giving a smile, Jacob walks to the side and then to Tom, offering his hand to a high–five. “I think you’ll be okay.”

As he feels the deep gaze of his friend as he passes by, Tom understands the second intentions of the phrase as if Jacob had just said “very smooth, my friend, shoot your shot” and left. It’s not that Tom Holland is a complete womanizer — the term Prince Charming fits him better, he says —but everyone who knows him decently is aware of the fact that he has no time for bullshit. No ceremony, no playing around. If Tom Holland likes someone, he’ll sure let this person know and try a move. If it goes right then awesome! And if it goes wrong he won’t go bitter about it longer than two or three seconds. He’ll eventually forget even though he doesn’t want to.

The british boy watches another struggle. Tiptoeing, the other person lifts the poster to see if it’ll fit in the only larger space left on The Great Wall as Missy climbs down the stairs by herself, analyzing the entire scene with squinted eyes.

“Here, luv,” Tom gently moves closer and takes the poster in his hands. He tiptoes as well and reaches the blank spot easier. “I think it’ll fit, don’t ya?” “It sure will!” The answer comes out in a chuckle. “I don’t believe we met, actually,” With feet back on the floor, he holds the banner while he looks directly to the owner. There’s this stupid beautiful smile adorning his face kind of shyly, but surely threatening to widen more as his fingers run through his brown hair. “I’m sorry. I’m Y/N,” She says, smiling back at him and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and Tom notices the delicate pair of earrings shining through the locks. “Beautiful! Beautiful name,” His brows frown quickly, listening to her voice like his favourite band’s singing his favourite song of all time. His mouth wants to say ‘beautiful face too’ with ‘beautiful lips’ and a ‘beautiful eyes’, but his brain works harder to keep his dignity safe somehow. “And your name is?” Suddenly, his throat goes dry. He tries to clear it, eyes blinking rapidly and he stretches an arm to find support on the wall. The jeans on his legs goes tighter, the white t-shirt for summer weather feels hotter than a thousand coats and the backpack on his shoulder heavens like he’s carrying a bag filled with rocks. What the heck? “My name?” “No, idiot,” Missy says behind Tom. “My name.” Rolling eyes, Tom slightly turns around and clenches his jaw, looking at Missy Langford’s sarcastic face with everything but appreciation. “Will you shut the fuck up?” He mumbles through gritted teeth. “I’m tryna get lucky in here,” And this time who rolls eyes is Missy, fixing her yellow shirt and putting it back inside her blue jeans. “I’m Thomas, darlin’. You can call me Tom.”

Or future ex–boyfriend, Missy thinks to herself feeling a tiny bit of heartache annoying her chest. It’s been around four months since she argued with Tom, which led to their break–up. Well, Missy calls it a break–up. For Tom, nothing’s been broken up because what they had was just a thing, a sudden meeting of feverish hormones boiling through their bodies. No one ever kneeled down and asked gently, no one ever posted pictures online or introduced the other to their parents. He notices the way she’s still bitter about it, but after a thousand conversations and discussions, Tom had just decided to let her be until the ache goes away eventually, since his words were apparently not helping at all.

“Tom,” Y/N confirms, nodding along and looking at him. He reacts with a smile, coffee eyes drinking her in. “Thank you, Tom! I should probably go find that cabinet where the tape might be at—“ “I’ll show you!” Tom interrupts, prompting up his body and fixing his shirt. “By the way, what are you announcing? Do you need a place to stay or share?” “Oh, no! Not at all,” Y/N warns as soon as she drinks in the way Tom’s tone of voice fell worried. The boy looks down at the poster, trying to find the main information of the paper. “It’s just a party. You’re both invited, actually! It’s gonna be at my place… Tomorrow afternoon.”

Tom says nothing, just removes his eyes from the folder to look at Y/N’s charming smile. He didn’t need any more reasons to say something rather than yes — the other words slipping out of her mouth were soundless to him, his eyes were too hypnotized by the way her lips were moving; hypnotized in a way his ears stopped working for a moment but his head managed to nod along to whatever she proposed. Yes, yes and yes. A thousand times yes to whatever she just proposed.

“Well, I’ll find the tape to hang it on,” She comments, eyeing the couple as her feet start to plan their way to the middle of the corridor. “I hope you can make it.”

Her sweet smile makes it hard for Tom to think twice — not that he even considered doing this, but it’s new to him how the entire surrounding seems to slow down the pace and noise when Y/N simply breathes and smiles sweetly. This is not right, not one bit, he thinks. His heart never raced this fast before; his mouth never craved other lips as it’s doing at the moment but one thing is certain: this party’s going to ease down his thirst one way or another. Tom only realizes that Y/N went away when the frame in front of him becomes Missy. She’s got a smirk on her face and two of her fingers travel across his collarbone, right next to where his white shirt ends. She feels the warmth of his chest increasing underneath the pad of her index and middle fingers, eyes traveling across his softened expression.

“Pick me up at 2 o’clock tomorrow?” She asks rhetorically, melting slightly when he takes her hand to plant a kiss on her knuckles.

By the hand, he drags her body closer so he can murmur next to her ear the same word he’s been saying repeatedly for these past months.

“No.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were going to ditch us for that party tomorrow, you bitch!”

Shawn rolls his eyes, smiling widely as he manages to carry his backpack, water bottle and guitar case towards his car. Brian, on the other hand, doesn’t feel like smiling back.

“Answer me!”

“Dude?!” Shawn stops, putting down his case to grab the keys inside his pocket. “It’s just a football match, we do this every fucking week.”

“Exactly! We do this every fucking week—“

“Man, Y/N’s gonna be there,” He smiles again, pressing the button to unlock the doors. “You know how much I’ve been waiting for this day to come over.”

“Wasn’t she in London?” The redhead asks, walking beside his best friend as he bends down to get the guitar case once again.

Things are heavy in Shawn’s hands and back, but the thought of finally seeing Y/N again after a semester of torture shots a wave of numbness through his nerves. The blue shirt feels hotter and the black jeans are surely tighter, but the way his heart floats around his chest makes him feel light like a feather.

He misses her.

Misses her smile, her eyes, the sound of her voice and her laugh when he first talked about his feelings for her. Shawn noticed that she didn’t believe him at all, but that impression didn’t last long in his mind — the way Y/N got close to his lips to mumble sweet nothings had sent him to cloud 9. Then his trip flew down to hell just as quickly when she pulled away to walk past the door, leaving Shawn’s pout kissing the air and the side of his bed empty. Next thing he knew, Y/N was on a plane ready to spend half of the year exploring the british airs of South West London. The song he wrote about her ended up staying inside of his second drawer, but the long-sleeved jersey of his favourite Hockey team went away with her — making Shawn’s hand itch to find home on that body, taking back what’s his and what he wants to be his.

“Exactly,” He imitates Brian’s words. “Was.”

Brian says nothing, feeling defeated. His brows only lift while his eyes close, knowing that he can’t fight Shawn when he’s like this. Obsessed.

“You should come too,” He invites, putting the tip of his bottle inside his mouth to hold it while he pushes the door open. “Heard–Djulia–iths–gonha–be–ther’.”

His guitar case flies to the backseat along with his backpack, Shawn stepping to the side so Brian can tuck his stuff into the car too.

“I have no fucking idea of what you just said,” Brian tosses his bag while pointing one finger to Shawn. “But I’m not leaving my mates behind because of some girl.”

This time, the one to lift eyebrows is Shawn. His gaze narrows Brian as he hangs the driver’s door open.

“First, you know she’s not some girl,” He corrects. “Second, Julia is gonna be there. It’s a pool party, dumbass.”

While Brian walks to the passenger’s door, it’s like magic. Julia is out there, walking–dancing outside the campus with her friends around her, singing whatever song that was. His blue eyes can’t drift away from her until she’s disappearing behind the cars parked.

“Pool party?” He asks distractedly. “See, that’s the part I hadn’t understood before. I mean, I love football but you know I never say no to a party.”

Message from +44 20…: Hi!! You left before I could even ask for your number…

Y/N gets out of the shower to immediately find her phone buzzing and ringing. The screen doesn’t show the entire text, but she doesn’t need to think that much to figure it out. Opening the app, she finds a second message popping up right after.

+44 20…: I got it from the party poster, I hope you don’t mind

Her bottom lip gets trapped between her teeth, a stupid smiling drawing her face as the profile photo loads. There he is. Messy damp curls atop of a babyface, glasses in front of those chocolate eyes and bare chest. Whew. Typing, feeling like a teenager as her stomach gets butterflies, she can notice the way her breathing goes unpatterned.

You: hey, london boy. there’s no problem! i’m glad you did 😇

It’s fun to Y/N how the text got instantly seen, the ‘typing…’ showing up below the new saved contact’s name in seconds.

Tom (Empshire): 👀👀👀 Hahaha That’s good to know. I’m really looking forward to your party tomorrow

You: you’re gonna make it? that’s perfect 💓

Tom (Empshire): Of course I am! Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling

Unconsciously, Y/N’s legs clench together just to the imagination of his accent speaking these words loud and clear to her. Even with the dripping hair and body wrapped by just a towel, she jumps on her bed before she falls to the floor.

Tom (Empshire): Do I need to bring something?? Like beers and stuff

You: not really. unless u wanna drink something specific but as long as you’re here… just don’t forget your suit, darling 😛

If she only knew that Tom was exactly how she was picturing… Bare chest, wearing glasses, damp hair and thrown onto the sofa with a boyish grin. Tom honestly couldn’t think about smooth ways to flirt with her, he felt too intimidated — almost like Tom wasn’t Tom. Who would’ve guessed that Tom Holland could watch his moves to talk with a girl?

Tom (Empshire): I won’t haha

Then he couldn’t resist.

Tom (Empshire): Anyways, can’t wait to see you again… It was lovely to meet you earlier today. Good night, pretty one!

With burning cheeks and racing heart, Y/N twists in bed as she holds her phone for dear life. Coming back to the Empshire University fell flat at first, but with the taste of London still stuck in her life somehow, this looks as interesting as being in the United Kingdom itself — with a summertime way more catching than the winter. Her limbs couldn’t stop pulsing and the anticipation ran along her most sensitive spots mercilessly, making her thighs tighten even harder with a big smile tilting up the corners of her swollen lips from all the biting.

You: good night, t. can’t way to see you too. it’ll be awesome.

taglist of girlfriends: @lostinspidey – @goldenmndes – @shawnsunflower​ – @jawnjendes​ – @itrocksmysocks​ – @emilyxkate​ – @tell-me-when-ur-ready​ – @particularnervous​ – @grayxzabdixfer – @shawnssongs​ – @arypesanchez​ – @shawnmendes-s – @shawnsheaven​ – @mylifeisafxingmess​ – @perfectywrong​ – @whysparker​ – @blairscott​

tagging mutuals [if you wanna be untagged, please sorry in advance & let me know]: @mcuspidey​ – @devilmendes​ – @snowflakeparker​ – @strangertingle – @honeyrosemuffins​.

[marvel-lous-things]

Can I just say that the Team Cap vs Team Iron Man thing throws me back to 2009 LJ fandom when everyone was arguing over Jacob vs Edward? I am a Fandom Old, and I can't take any of these wars seriously anymore because of Twilight. Every character has flaws - that's what makes them a good character. All these people griping at you for loving Tony Stark are taking it so seriously... it's a fictional world. Your profound love of Tony and my profound love of Steve can, in fact, co-exist. [1/2]

[2/2] Also, Tony being a fictional billionaire who made fictional weapons doesn't actually have a real-life impact on capitalism or ongoing conflicts in our real world? So that argument is pretty moot. Anyway, thought I'd weigh in and say you're neat, people take everything way too seriously, and god forbid we like what we like in this godawful new world of cringe and cancel culture.

---

1) the VERY APT comparison to 2009 twilight is sending me jskakskdkd

2) Yes!! Sometimes people don't get that fiction is supposed to be an escape from reality, not an extension of it. Your fave doesn't have to be 100% morally pure to be stanned lmao that's literally,,, not possible. If you're gonna go looking for fiction that's the very picture of purity and settle for absolutely nothing less, then... You're gonna end up with literally nothing to enjoy. That's no way to live.

I see all these kids (13, 14 year old BABIES) on this hellsite stressing themselves out about what they should like and what they shouldn't that they just. Forget to enjoy things. It's okay to like something that's got a slightly tasteless joke or two. It's okay to like a character who would be 100% gross in reality (like billionaires, for instance) but actually p neat on screen/paper. You're not a bad person for liking stuff like that.

3) cancel culture has gone so far it's become the new cringe culture tbh. but like. WORSE.

Cringe culture called you weird and lame for liking something. Cancel culture calls you a terrible human being for liking something. Lmfao wack.

4) you're Hella neat yourself anon <3 thank you!

[chloebeale]

Bechloe.. “Nothing Really Matters” by Mr. Probz. Every time I hear this song I just think of Beca writing it for Chloe.

1) I’d never heard this song before, so thank you for bringing it to my attention, it’s adorable! 2) I don’t know how this took the direction it did, but I hope you like it ♡

(Thank you for the prompt!)

RATING: T (angst) | WORDS: 3,926 | (ao3 link)

“Next up, we have a brand new entry from Beca Mitchell! She’s really on fire this year, isn’t she? This is Nothing Really Matters, brand new this week.”

Normally, the name has Chloe’s head snapping up, it has her heart racing. But not this time. It’s almost like she’s getting used to it by now, to hearing the name Beca Mitchell wherever she goes. It’s not surprising really. Her ex-girlfriend, the woman who is arguably the love of her life, is really making a name for herself. She’s an incredible singer, an incredible songwriter. Honestly, she’s an incredible talent, and she’s getting everything she deserves.

“And we’re changing the station!” Aubrey chirps, hurrying in from the kitchen. There’s a pink apron tied around her waist, flour spattered across the middle. It’s an almost comical sight really.

Chloe shakes her head, not bothering to look up from the book she’s reading.

“No, it’s okay,” she promises, finally tearing her eyes from the words on the page in front of her. She isn’t really taking them in, anyway. She really couldn’t tell you what happened in the last couple chapters. “Leave it. I haven’t heard this one.”

Aubrey looks skeptical, and with good reason. The last three months have been a nightmare for everybody. There have been numerous tears shed, countless nights where Chloe has fallen asleep sobbing into Aubrey’s shirt. Presumably, Beca doesn’t feel the same way. Then again, what does Chloe know? She apparently doesn’t know Beca the way she thought she did, anyway.

In spite of her obvious reservations, the blonde simply nods her head, before disappearing back into the kitchen, and leaving Chloe alone with her book and the sound of the most beautiful, most familiar voice filling the room.

“When she’s okayThen I’m alrightWhen she’s awakeI’m up all nightAnd nothing really mattersNothing really matters.”

Most, if not all, of Beca’s songs are love songs. It almost seems a little unlike her, because to the outside world, Beca is really not the hopeless romantic type. But Chloe knows her better than that. Chloe knows just how sweet, how dorky, how utterly romantic her ex-girlfriend can be.

Until recently, until their breakup, most of Beca’s songs have been dedicated to, or at least influenced in some way, by Chloe. Oftentimes, she has tried to deny it, but Chloe has always picked up on the subtleties, the lyrics that have related entirely to them, and Beca has quickly caved, because she can’t lie to Chloe. Chloe knows her better than anybody in the world, she’s absolutely sure of that.

“I see her faceAnd in my mindI seize the dayWhenever she’s nearbyIt’s like nothing really mattersNo, nothing really matters.”

This song is catchy, Chloe notices. It’s the first time she’s hearing it, but already she can tell that it’s going to be a hit. She tries not to think about the emotion behind it, about how it’s likely written with someone new in mind. Not that Chloe knows if Beca has moved on yet, although she knows she will at some point. They both will. They both have to. Except Chloe knows that it’ll be a long time until she’s in that place. For now, she’ll get lost in books. She’ll transport herself to another world, a whole imaginary distraction. If she could focus on the words, anyway.

“I know what it feels likeSwimming through the stars when I see herAnd I don’t need air ‘cause I breathe her.”

Chloe pauses. Her eyes are down on her book, on the open page with the story in which she has absolutely no idea what’s happening, but they glance upward at that.

She replays the line over in her head, and then Chloe’s lids are closing, and she’s lost in a memory. The most beautiful, vivid, dangerous memory.

—-

“God, it’s so hot,” Beca whines, the flannel wrapped around her waist now discarded with an overly dramatic throw onto the ground.

Chloe giggles as she watches the other woman.

“Did that help?” She questions, eyeing the discarded garment, then returning her line of sight to her girlfriend.

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so. You should come sit in the shade with me,” Chloe suggests, setting down her open book in her lap. She reaches out a hand toward the shorter girl, who looks at her with a small pout, one that Chloe can’t help but mirror. Her book closes itself, and she has no idea which page she was up to, but she doesn’t care. Beca is much more interesting to her, anyway.

“It just seems pointless,” Beca frowns, though she stands in spite of her words, picking up her laptop and carrying it over toward her girlfriend. “A beautiful, sunny day and we’re sitting in the shade?”

“Every day’s a beautiful, sunny day with you around, my love,” Chloe grins, and while she’s teasing, intentionally being completely cheesy, she does actually mean it. Beca responds with a playful eye roll, but Chloe notices the way her cheeks darken a shade as she plops down onto the end of Chloe’s sun lounger. She has pulled her feet up to make room for her girlfriend.

“Besides, you probably shouldn’t have your computer out in the sun like that.”

This is a pretty standard, typical Sunday for them. Chloe always has her lesson plans completed at the start of the weekend, giving herself the rest of the time free to relax and hang out with her girlfriend. She’ll sit out here and read, while Beca works on new music beside her. With her red hair and pale skin, the California sun is really not Chloe’s best friend, but this is where Beca’s management is, it’s where her career is thriving. It’s where Chloe has her teaching job now. So she doesn’t mind.

For Beca, she doesn’t mind.

She watches the other woman as she stares down at her laptop, and Chloe knows that face. She knows that expression.

“Babe, why don’t you take a break?” She offers the brunette a small smile. “Your focus is off right now, I can tell.”

“It’s the heat,” Beca sighs, tilting her head back in defeat. Chloe, as usual, just thinks she’s adorable.

“You could take a dip in the pool? That’d help cool you off a bit.”

Beca’s nose wrinkles as she looks over at her. “Are you forgetting your glitter explosion?”

Of course she’s not, and Chloe can’t help her soft laugh at the memory. She’d been carrying a stack of art supplies after work on Friday, and she’d somehow managed to miss her footing and dropped everything into the pool. They’d been able to fish everything out… Other than the glitter.

“It won’t hurt you,” she grins, motioning over toward the pool, “It’ll just make you sparkle a little bit. It’ll be like swimming through the stars.”

Despite the fact that Beca rolls her eyes, Chloe can see the small smile tugging at her lips. “How do you manage to make everything sound adorable, Chlo?” She questions, and Chloe knows that look, too. The one where she’s suddenly taking all of her in, overcome with that same swell of love Chloe knows all too well herself.

“Just a talent, I guess,” Chloe shrugs, setting her book down on the ground, then pushes herself up from her seat. “Come on.” She holds her hand out to her girlfriend, who looks up at her with a raised brow.

“You want to turn me into Edward Cullen?”

Chloe shakes her head. “No way, I’m team Jacob. Come on.”

“We don’t even have bathing suits. They’re all the way upstairs.”

“What, are you worried about me seeing you naked?” Chloe teases, already beginning to peel off her shirt. She tosses it down onto the lounger, and takes subtle pride in the way she sees Beca gawking at her newly exposed chest.

They have been dating for almost four years now, living together for two. But still somehow Beca looks at her like it’s the first time really seeing her, and Chloe can’t help the way her teeth sink into her bottom lip in response.

“Stop it, perv. You were already playing with them in the shower this morning,” she grins, going back to undressing. She quickly unfastens her shorts, tugging them down her legs, and then her underwear is coming down, too.

“Ugh, you make it real hard to say no to you, Beale,” Beca groans, though her arms are crossing in front of her until she can lift her own shirt up and off. Like Chloe, she also isn’t wearing a bra, and the redhead makes sure to appreciate the view as she backs toward the pool.

It’s a good thing their backyard is so well hidden from passers by really, because there’s now an international superstar and her girlfriend completely naked for all to see. But neither is too concerned about that. As usual, they’re pretty wrapped up in each other.

As Chloe approaches the pool, she can see the glitter shimmering in the water. The sight causes her to laugh quietly, until she’s sitting down on the edge and lowering herself carefully into the ripples. It isn’t exactly cold; the sun has seen to that. It’s definitely cooler than standing around outside of it, though. Chloe dunks her head under, then emerges again a second or two later, pushing her wet hair back out of her eyes.

“Your hair is full of glitter,” Beca frowns, hands planted on her hips as she stands beside the pool.

“And yours will be too in a minute,” Chloe grins, lifting her arms out of the water by her sides and admiring the way her skin glistens with tiny flecks of gold and silver glitter.

Beca rolls her eyes yet again, but she doesn’t protest, and soon she’s jumping into the water, too. She lets it cover her entire body, her head disappearing under the waves caused by her abrupt jump, and then she’s reappearing a moment later, slicking back her glittery hair the same way as Chloe.

“Better, right?” The redhead smirks, allowing herself to float onto her back. The water ripples gently around her, and she feels herself relaxing into the serenity.

“I thought it’d itch more than this,” Beca says, beginning to glide through the water.

“I told you,” Chloe shrugs, glancing over at her, “It’s like swimming through the stars.”

“Sure it is,” Beca teases, pausing beside her girlfriend. She stands in the water, her arms slipping underneath the other girl until she can turn her around. Chloe watches her with amusement, letting her move her, until her arms are wrapped around Beca’s neck, legs comfortably around her waist.

“Told you this was a good idea,” Chloe beams, nudging the tip of her nose gently against her girlfriend’s. Beca responds with a soft, contented smile, until she’s leaning forward to press a delicate kiss to Chloe’s lips, one the redhead happily returns.

“I still feel like Edward Cullen,” Beca smirks, her arms wrapped around Chloe’s waist. She’s drifting backwards toward the side of the pool, holding tightly onto her girlfriend.

“Right. But only if Edward Cullen was swimming through the stars,” Chloe points out, moving one arm from around the shorter girl to wipe a speck of glitter from under her eye. Beca gives Chloe that same playful look as usual, eyes rolling and lips arched into a smile.

“Say it,” Chloe instructs, eyes on her girlfriend. Beca looks at her with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Say it’s like swimming through the stars with me.”

Beca’s brow arches higher, amused smile dancing on her lips, but she doesn’t respond.

With the hand still not around Beca, Chloe flicks a splash of water at her. Beca tries to duck out of the way, but it hits her in the face. Fortunately, her eyes close in time to stop any glitter from getting into them.

“Say it!” Chloe giggles, flicking more water the brunette’s way.

Beca cuts her off with a laugh, eyes finally opening. “Okay, okay. It is.”

“It is what?” Chloe asks, subtle smirk settling back onto her lips as she wraps her arm around Beca’s neck again. Her grip tightens, and Beca’s does the same.

“It’s like swimming through the stars with you, baby.”

—-

“Chloe?”

Aubrey’s voice startles her awake.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were sleeping.” There’s an apologetic look on the blonde’s face.

It takes Chloe a second to snap back to reality. She had evidently fallen asleep on the couch, her book still open in her lap. There’s a song playing on the radio that she doesn’t recognize now. It’s not one of Beca’s.

Aubrey perches down onto the side of the couch, bringing a hand up to brush a chunk of hair softly behind Chloe’s ear. “Why don’t you go lay down for a bit,” she suggests, voice soft and reassuring. She offers Chloe a sympathetic smile, one she’s grown all too familiar with lately.

Chloe responds with a short nod of her head, before pushing herself up from the couch.

Stacie will be home soon, anyway. Chloe adores both Aubrey and her girlfriend, and she’s eternally grateful to them for allowing her to stay with them until she gets back on her feet, but she has to admit, it’s difficult seeing them all over each other. She’s happy for them, she loves how in love they are, but Chloe doesn’t have that anymore, and she can’t deny that it hurts.

She retreats to the guest room. Her room, for all intents and purposes. Her laptop is laid on the end of the bed, where she’d left it this morning. Chloe had been doing some lesson planning, but she’d lost her focus, and she’d gone to sit downstairs with Aubrey.

When she takes a seat on the bed and opens the laptop’s lid, she minimizes her earlier work quickly, and instead opens up Spotify. It’s really no surprise that Beca Mitchell is one of her most recent searches.

Chloe scrolls to the new addition, Nothing Really Matters, and hits play. She turns down the volume some, not wanting Aubrey to hear.

“I know what it feels likeSwimming through the stars when I see herAnd I don’t need air ‘cause I breathe her.”

She hadn’t been imagining it. She hadn’t dreamt it. There it was, loud and clear.

“Swimming through the stars when I see her.”

Against her better judgment, Chloe clicks on the iMessage application, pulling up her last text message thread with Beca. It has been over a month since they’ve spoken, and the thought causes Chloe’s heart to ache.

Chloe, 4:29PM:I heard your song.

For a good ten minutes, there’s no response, though Chloe finds herself continually clicking back onto the conversation, eyes moving to the chat window. She’s about to close the lid again when the chat bubble appears, and Chloe’s heart begins to race.

Beca, 4:41PM:Which one?

Chloe, 4:43PM:Your new one.

Beca, 4:46PM:Oh.

Chloe waits a moment, wondering if there’s more to come. Apparently, there isn’t. And something about that angers her, but what can she do? She simply lets out a long sigh, before closing the laptop and flopping back against the pillows.

The backs of her eyes begin to sting, so Chloe closes them, shaking her head slowly and willing herself to woman up. She needs to stop crying. It’s been three months, she has to stop crying over Beca Mitchell.

She doesn’t know what time it is when the sound of her phone wakes her. Honestly, she didn’t even know she’d fallen asleep again, but the room is dark now, and Chloe blinks into the stillness, her phone still buzzing on the mattress beside her. She reaches for it blindly, squinting at the name on the screen.

BECA MITCHELL

And just like that, Chloe’s heart is in her throat. It’s against her better judgment that she hits accept on the call.

“Hello?”

There’s silence for a moment, followed by the quiet sound of Beca’s voice. “Chloe, hey. It’s me.”

Her tongue flicks over the part in her dry lips, and Chloe swallows back her emotions. “What do you want?”

More silence, almost like she’s hesitating. “You’re still staying with Aubrey and Stacie, right?”

Chloe doesn’t understand the point of this phone call, but she humors it. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Okay,” Beca responds simply. She clears her throat, and Chloe is certain she hears the sound echoing. It causes her to sit upright in the bed, her free hand running through her messy hair. Beca continues. “Can you come outside?”

Chloe’s heart was already racing, but it speeds up further now. Her body seems to be working without her mind as she rises from the bed. “What?” She questions, pulling down the sleeves of her oversized sweater. They engulf her hands, and Chloe appears smaller somehow, almost more vulnerable.

“Just come outside.”

Chloe doesn’t respond. She licks over her lips again as she makes her way slowly to the window. The guest room is at the front of the house, and she looks out to see Beca standing awkwardly outside in the evening light. Her phone is held to her ear, her free arm wrapped around her middle. Chloe sees the way she glances up, and she knows Beca has seen her.

“Please, Chlo.”

It’s pathetic, the fear she’s now filled with. Because Beca Mitchell is not scary. Beca Mitchell is not this negative presence she has started to become. She’s the love of her life, she’s her person.

But Chloe doesn’t have her anymore, and maybe that’s what makes this all so terrifying.

She moves through the house quietly, not wanting to catch Aubrey or Stacie’s attention. She can hear them in the living room, they’re laughing quietly at something on the television, though Chloe doesn’t stop for long enough to see what. She has hung up the call by now, her phone still on the bed, and she thinks she hears it begin to buzz again. She ignores it, and instead quietly opens the door, the underside of her white socks definitely suffering as she pads out into the evening, cautiously closing the door behind her.

“Are you mad?” Beca questions, and suddenly Chloe can see that same fear in the other girl’s eyes. It causes her chest to tighten, her stomach to clench.

“About what?” Chloe asks, approaching even more cautiously than the way she’d tiptoed down the stairs.

“That I’m still writing songs about you.”

Chloe licks over her lips. She doesn’t have a response, at least not a verbal one. Slowly, though, she shakes her head.

“Why are you writing songs about me still, Beca?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

The response is almost like a punch to the stomach. She knows she isn’t supposed to be Beca’s muse anymore, not now they’re broken up. But to hear her calling the very idea idiotic is genuinely painful.

“For all of this, I mean.”

Chloe pauses, gaze trained on her ex-girlfriend.

She doesn’t respond, but it’s almost like the invisible rope tied around Beca’s limbs has suddenly loosened. Her emotions are rising to the surface, and she’s no longer glued to the spot. She shakes her head as she takes a step forward, and it seems like she’s daring herself to reach out. Eventually, she does, and the soft touch to her arm causes Chloe to flinch slightly. Beca recoils, but she’s soon reaching out again, this time for Chloe’s hand. The redhead doesn’t stop her.

“Chloe, I’m so sorry,” Beca says, voice thick with emotion. Chloe can hear the way it’s cracking, she can imagine the stinging sensation behind the other girl’s eyes, because she can feel it behind her own, too. She bites back a pathetic sob as Beca continues.

“I’m an idiot,” the brunette repeats. “No one has ever been as supportive or as amazing as you are. You never asked me to choose between you and my job, you never would. And I’m so sorry that I let myself get so caught up in the whole Hollywood thing. I just…” Beca pauses, swallowing back the lump in her throat. “It’s just a lot, you know? Paparazzi following us everywhere? Zero privacy? I hated doing that to you, Chlo. I hated dragging you through all of that with me.”

It doesn’t matter how well she tries to hold it together, Chloe is crying now. There are slow tears rolling down pale cheeks, and without her even realizing it, her fingers are laced with Beca’s.

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” she sobs quietly, shaking her head. Beca’s thumb is brushing softly over the back of her knuckles, and Chloe takes comfort in the familiar feeling. “I didn’t care about any of that. That’s your job, that’s all apart of it. And I didn’t care because I was with you.”

Beca takes a moment to compose herself, and Chloe sees the way her cheeks are glistening. She instinctively reaches out with her free hand to brush a tear from the shorter girl’s cheek with the pad of her thumb; it’s like the pool and the glitter all over again.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Beca finally says. “I don’t want to do this without you, Chlo. I know that when I ended things, I know I hurt you, and I know it was so selfish of me. But I need you to know that you’re literally the love of my life. Nothing really matters without you.”

Chloe doesn’t have a response. She’s too choked up, and she just stares at the other woman through tear soaked lashes.

“I’m going to fix this, okay?” Beca continues, tugging gently on the redhead’s hand, until their bodies are pressed closely together. Beca lets go, but only to wrap her arms around her waist. “These last three months have been hell. And if you’ll let me make it right again, I will. Because you’re it for me, Chloe. I want everything back the way it was. I want to fall asleep beside you every night, I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to do cheesy crap like putting flour on your face when I’m pretending to be bored when you’re making me bake cookies with you—”

Chloe cuts her off. “Or pouring glitter in the pool and swimming through the stars?”

Beca responds with a soft laugh, in spite of her tears. She nods her head in response. “Exactly. I want us to be in love again, Chlo.” She quietens, almost like she’s afraid to continue. Afraid to ask the question. “Do you think we can?”

Chloe’s teeth sink gently into her bottom lip, and in spite of the tears still rolling down her cheeks, her lips curve just slightly upward at the corners. “We never stopped, Bec. I’m always yours. I was always yours.”

The brunette’s lids flutter shut, and Chloe sees the way a couple fresh tears spill down her cheeks before she’s leaning up to delicately connect their lips, a feeling Chloe has been craving for the last three months, an action she returns without hesitation. Their tears are staining one another’s faces now, but neither one cares.

“I’m always yours too, Chlo,” Beca mumbles softly as she pulls back, lids fluttering open again to look up at her. Blue eyes meet gray, and the look is so familiar, so comforting.

“I was always yours.”

[animentality]

Twilight is like Space Jam all of a sudden.

See, there are things that are good, and last through the ages, like ATLA.

And then there are things that aren't really good, but nostalgia for the old days makes them good and you look back on them fondly for being something that symbolizes your old fascination with life and god do you miss that.

And yes twilight is the latter.

See, people, in their usual Tumblr way, are now claiming pride for their love of twilight because it's apparently feminist to like twilight now.

But they forget that the reason twilight was criticized by men and women alike wasn't because "UwU girls like it so it must be bad."

It was criticized because some men, and women, though twilight was a terrible trend in teenage romance that emphasized female reliance on men to tell stories.

I mean people didn't like Bella's character because it was intentionally blank so you could insert yourself in there.

And that's fine and all, but for three books she barely had any real agency or control over her life.

Edward and Jacob were...manipulative and did all kinds of controlling shit.

There were female characters who were interesting, like Rosalie and Alice, but they were almost like side stories for most of the books.

I liked the books alright when they came out, but Breaking Dawn was terrible.

Renesme is such a stupid name, and Bella was completely unlikable after her transformation into a vampire.

Plus the vampires with super powers thing was right out of a weird fanfic.

And the lead up to a big battle that doesn't even happen was so poorly executed.

As was Jacob wanting to fucking Bella's daughter.

AND the implication that hey everyone's immortal.

It was just...weak writing overall, I think, because while it was engaging enough, it wasn't really as mature as say, the Host (which Meyer wrote later after she learned, I guess).

That's my opinion and all, but I think it's more substantial and thoughtful than the people in the twilight tag saying they were "oppressed" for liking twilight.

You got teased for wearing team Jacob t shirts, but you act like you were oppressed for being a woman.

That's not always the case. There are always personal individual factors that influence different situations.

I think it's just my personal pet peeve that Tumblr has to justify its nostalgia for something by claiming it has societal implications.

You can bring twilight back but god, claiming it's LGBT just because you like it again is so weird.

It's weird, that's all it is.

I got called homophobic for saying this early, but can I just say as someone who identifies as nonbinary and panromantic, you can just want to like twilight again.

You don't have to claim it's a symbol of male oppression, that you were teased for liking twilight, or that it's now LGBT because every woman and every man is gay despite ...the book stating they're hetero because they've perfectly paired themselves up with the right man or woman.

It's just odd to me, is all.

I don't like Tumblr when it does this because it's so fucking counterproductive.

Hyper leftist progressivism can be so toxic when it wants to be, with people just as "righteous" as the conservative right.

In Tumblr's case, I've seen it happen so many times.

Sometimes people are "canceled" for doing nothing wrong. Sometimes a celebrity makes a human mistake and they're "problematic" and "peak evil mood, lol."

It just ignored that fuzzy grey area of criticism where you actually have to think critically and ask yourself, am I personally ok with this?

I just think that real life will never work the way Tumblr thinks it does.

And it will have its valid points and funny stories and cute pictures of dogs but shit if it isn't annoying being on a site with wannabe political activists.

I feel like the teenagers are being misguided and the young adults and middle aged adults really are neglecting their responsibilities by leading witch hunts.

Anyway.

Back to TWILIGHT, I mean.

It's not the worst thing in the world, and it's got its issues but it's more or less a harmless dumb thing that got brought back for memes for some reason.

I just dislike this wider Tumblr phenomenon of needing to put the world into boxes of "good" and "evil."

Twilight can be mediocre.

It can be something you look back fondly on.

But trying to apply 2018 relevance to twilight claiming it's gay even though it's literally about a straight love triangle, I mean.

People have been accusing me of being anti fun, but that's just my opinion.

What, are you anti-opinion?

Sorry to tell you this, but your opinion doesn't matter more than mine just because you're being "UwU positive."

It also doesn't have more weight than mine just because you think you can slap more progressive labels on your argument than I can.

Tl; dr- Kira doesn't care for twilight and finds tumblr's way of only ever hating something or glorifying something one-dimensional and counterproductive.