#but also its genuinely so irritating and rage inducing

[first-edition-dumpster-fire]

“Let me help you...”

Fandom: Twilight

Pairing: Jasper x Bella, mostly canon pairings

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, f.masturbation, oral (f.receiving), somewhat cheating, thigh riding, cowgirl position, cream pie. Mentions of su!cide like once, inappropriate language, toxic relationships, too long

I paced the length of my room heatedly, frustration and irritation leaking out of my very pores. The rain slammed into the window violently and had been since he’d left. Again.

It wasn’t unusual for Edward and I to get into fights like these ever since we’d gotten home from Volterra. More often then not, he’d say his piece, ignore me, and take off in a fit of self-righteousness and self-hatred. A strange combination if I ever saw one.

When we got back, things were tense, awkward, and I didn’t know how to fix it. If I even wanted to at all. I was long tired of practically breaking my back and risking my life to make him happy only to get tossed aside like I didn’t matter. He made it clear what mattered most to him and what I wanted wasn’t even on the list. To make matters worse, his animosity only grew after the majority of his family sided in favor of turning me into one of them. It hurt that he’d rather hide me away and constantly risk my life along with the lives of his family just to keep me human without considering my thoughts or feelings on the matter.

What I wanted, all I’d ever wanted, was to be his equal. For him to see me as beautiful, strong and powerful as I saw him. I loved him with every fiber, cell, molecule of my being and he loved me. Loved me enough that he was going to kill himself to avoid living on without me. Enough to put himself through agony and constantly test his control just to be in the same room as me. He loved me. He lived for me.

At least, that’s what I thought, anyways. Our newest argument tested my resolve a lot more than our other ones. Like every other time, we were arguing about my change. While I just wanted to confirm the date for my change, he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he’d lost the debate on whether or not I’d become like him. He insisted that he wouldn’t turn me, that he forbade anyone else from doing it, and that he didn’t want to hear me being up something so stupid and meaningless again.

It’s safe to say that his words hurt a bit. The oh-so-meaningless topic that he so desperately wanted to avoid was what gave him his family. It’s what allowed us to fall in love. It gave him unfathomable abilities that most could only dream about. And without it, the lives of all the people we cared about, and our own, would be in danger. I told him as much. Then it got worse.

Usually when we argued, Edward ignores what I have to say, insists that he’s in the right, and leaves when I don’t cave. He always returns and never insults me. Except this time, he did.

“You are so stupidly naive, Bella! I’m a vampire, I would know better then you, and I do! Its my job to take care of you, not that you make it easy. You never make it easy for me! You’re so selfish and you do it on purpose, it’s as if you enjoy being such a burden!”

I had stood there silently for a pause. Partially in shock but mostly in an embarrassed rage. Did he have any idea how guilty I’ve felt these last few months for making him and his family leave? How much I’ve hated myself for constantly being in danger and relying on the protection from him and the pack? And how dare he talk to me like that in my own home, when it was him who revealed my existence to the Volturi and put us all in danger?!

“Get out,” I hissed through gritted teeth, staying conscious of the fact that Charlie was asleep in the other room. It’s not like Edward couldn’t hear me perfectly anyway.

“Bella-“ I didn’t want to hear him lecture me or placate me or blame me. In fact, I didn’t want to hear his voice at all, not unless he came to his senses and agreed to the change.

“No, Edward! I want to be alone! Go away!” I raised my voice, a silent threat to wake Charlie and he knew it.

He glared at me bitterly. “I’m going to go hunt with Emmett, I’ll be here before you wake up.”

“Don’t bother. Just leave, Edward,” I whisper, exhausted by the argument and debating why I even bothered at all. I only vaguely remember why we started fighting in the first place.

A big thing that changed when the Cullens returned was my relationship with some members. With Esme gone, I’d realized how I missed having an actual mother and embraced her gratefully. Alice and I’s relationship grew strained after her encouragement of Edward’s unsavory behavior. Rosalie filled that spot as I spent more time with Emmett. Realizing our similar experiences, if opposing viewpoints, brought us closer together. Carlisle became wasn’t the same savior I thought he was, also allowing Edward to do what he wanted even though, as coven leader, he had the final say on major decisions. I knew he was mournful about our change in dynamics, but I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him, yet.

Jasper and I still didn’t talk too much, and it was made even more obvious that he tried to avoid me, even if it seemed like he didn’t want to. I constantly sought him out to explain that I didn’t blame him for my birthday and that I’d like to get closer to him. He just never gave me the chance. I knew he and Alice called it quits and it seemed like the divorce made him even more isolated that before. In the seven months I spent in my depression, I thought of Jasper often. I was distraught with guilt over my part in their leaving, I couldn’t imagine how he felt. Over time, the guilt turned into genuine feelings for him.

He consumed my thoughts, dreams and fantasies. Every time I closed my eyes, his blond hair and lopsided smirk greeted me. And when I was with Edward, I wanted Jasper. Like earlier tonight, when kissing Edward I pretended he was Jasper and got a bit too enthusiastic. Edward pulled himself away to prevent himself from “making a mistake”, the final straw.

Screw Edward.

Now I was without him again, and unlikely to take him back this time, and it wasn’t nearly so painful. I’d outgrown, out-matured Edward. And my thoughts about Jasper’s lips and body kept me from being truly upset about it. If anything, I was incredibly horny. A deep ache had settled into the pit of my stomach, neglected in favor of my Edward-induced rage. Now, it had risen to a fiery inferno of lust.

I thought back to a conversation I had with Angela while helping her with her graduation invites. We were gossiping about our relationships when she brought up sex. Though it embarrassed me to admit that I was still a virgin, Angela quickly assured me that sex wasn’t what it was all cracked up to be most of the time and that when her and Ben had sex for the first few times, she didn’t come at all. We got into the topic of masturbation and how to pleasure yourself. I left her home red faced and couldn’t look Edward in the eyes for a good while after that.

Feeling defeated and aroused, I climbed up on my bed and straddled one of my pillows. Shifting it to match Angela’s description, I lined the edge up with my slit and lowered my body onto it. The stimulation was a soothing balm to the ache of my neglected cunt, but it also wasn’t enough. I experimentally rolled my hips, the course material sliding along my clit in a way that made me gasp. I repeated the motion a few more times to get into a good rhythm before speeding up the pace. I had to drag my pillow back into place a couple of times because the force of my movements pushed it away. I slammed a palm onto the wall in front of me and leaned forward to hit a better angle. My hair fell in my face and stuck there due to built up sweat. I sunk my face into another pillow and let it muffle my whines and moans.

Leaning back, I changed the rhythm and tweaked my pebbled nipples, struggling to find the one thing that would push me over the edge. I was so close, the coil in my stomach building up but never peaking. Growing more and more helpless, I aggressively humped my pillow, needing to come. I paid little attention to the evidence of my arousal staining the pillowcase and focused entirely on how I could find release.

Letting my imagination run wild, I indulged in all of my secret fantasies that I’d never considered before. I imagined different positions and kinks, as well as foreplay. The thing that got me going was the dirty things I’d imagined Jasper saying as he wreaked my body. His voice in my fantasy was rough, deep, demanding and used to respect and obedience. Accent prominent as he bent me to his will. I felt my clit twitch the smallest bit and hurried to redirect my thoughts. Despite my feelings for him, getting off to my boyfriend’s recently-divorced brother’s voice was a new type of wrong. Especially since his ex-wife was my friend.

I couldn’t help it, though, and more thoughts about him invaded my mind. My fantasies took a different shape and went from focusing on me receiving pleasure to Jasper’s ministrations on my wanton body. In every fantasy, at every angle, I saw his handsome face and strong body maneuvering my own into bliss.

Feeling all types of wrong for how close I was, so so close, I opened my eyes with my head in the direction facing the window. I locked gaze with a pair of familiar golden eyes.

They very ones I’d been very close to orgasming to.

~*~

Running full speed to the Swan residence that was home to the family human and future vampire of our coven, I pondered all of the changes that have occurred over the past year to my family. It was the twentieth year of my abstinence of human blood in a row and the first time I’ve gone more than a decade without killing a human. There were few close calls as well, not including my almost attacking Bella, the aforementioned human. I had much to be grateful for, almost enough to match up to my regrets, both as a human and as a vampire. Lying about my age to join the C*nfederate army. Wanting to join that side of the war at all. My actions as the major in Maria’s army. The humans I slaughtered. Not killing Maria. Letting Carlisle pressure me into marrying Alice even though neither of us wanted it. Every single one of my slips. Most importantly, however, the only near slip that would scar me for life was almost murdering Isabella Swan on her eighteenth birthday.

Though I didn’t trust or like her much at first, she’d grown on me the same way she did the rest of our family, even Rose, though she’d never admit it to Bella’s face. We were ostracized even from other vampires for our way of life, not to mention the fearful humans, it was breath of fresh air to be so kindly accepted by someone like Bella. Not only did she accept us all for what we were, she praised the very thing that made us outcasts from everyone else. Her kindness and generosity for the undeserving was unwavering and magnetic.

Speaking of undeserving, I couldn’t believe that an angel such as herself could forgive us all so easily, especially Edward. On the night of the vote, as Esme swept up the shattered glass after our positions on Bella’s dilemma were decided, Bella had divulged her reasoning for accidentally breaking our window. The amount of mistrust and rage that flew off of me the second I heard about what Edward did and said to her before we left was palpable enough to affect Bella, a sense of betrayal lingering on her soft skin.

He never told us exactly what happened that afternoon, just that I had terrified her enough to break up with Edward and that he couldn’t stay in the place where he’d gotten his undead heart broken. He’d never mentioned that he was the one who shattered her heart and soul, nor the cruel words and harsh actions he’d used to do it. We acted as if her truth was the only one we’d known of and assured her that she was apart of this family, with or without her relationship with Edward. At a level she couldn’t understand, though, we took turns verbally harassing Edward for his actions and his part in hurting the poor girl.

And of course, Alice had known the whole time, before anyone else. She’d known months before that Edward was going to end things with Bella and how she’d end up as a result. She, Bella’s best friend, knew the agony she would experience and still let Edward destroy her.

Alice and I had already been separated at this point, our combined anger at my actions created a wedge in our already fractured relationship. When we’d met, we both instantly knew we weren’t right for one another in the long run. We didn’t fit correctly and didn’t want to change ourselves that much to try. Joining up with the Cullens put our arrangement with one another in jeopardy when Carlisle conditioned that in order for us to stay with them, I had to marry Alice. While I didn’t mind my pixie haired companion, and certainly enjoyed relieving stress with her, I knew neither he or myself wanted to be tied down to each other that way. But I caved in, I was grateful to her and did love her in a way, and definitely didn’t want to risk the alternative of leaving the Cullens when we’d gone through so much just to find them.

We only married once, with the Cullens present as witnesses, and only wore our rings for about a year. On all of our legal documents for when we changed locations, I put her down as my wife, but other than that I never brought up the fact that we were married and she didn’t, either.

I should’ve known our relationship was coming to a close when we’d stopped having sex. Right around the time she saw Bella enter our lives for the first time. Looking back, I should’ve been suspicious about why she no longer came to me in the dead of night the same night the police Chief’s daughter arrived. I was too blind about Edward’s odd behavior and subsequent obsession to actually question her about it. Living with the Cullens and their tamer lifestyle was making me soft.

When Bella entered our lives, Alice was ecstatic, happier than I’d ever seen her. Enthralled by her new playmate and best friend, I’d forgotten the shift in our dynamic in favor of my own interest in my brother’s young girlfriend. She was absolutely fascinating in just about every way. I felt as warm as a human experiencing what she felt when she was around us. So inviting, and curious, and sweet. I barely noticed her scent, only taking note when it heavily affected Edward.

Alice was their biggest supporter, drowning out any of their doubts or worries with a bright, knowing smile. God, I hated how much she knew. She knew everything and at the same time, nothing.

She saw far enough in the future to picture the things she wanted through rose-tinted glasses, and going through the motions to make they happened. She didn’t care of the consequences, why would she when everything would be fine anyways? This line of thinking, her thought process, and what happened to Bella because of it, is what spurred me to turn our separation into a formal divorce.

Esme was beside herself, terrified that I’d leave the family once my tie to them was gone. That was only slightly true. Initially yes, Alice was my only tie to the Cullens, an affiliation out of personal safety. And yes, my tie to them through her was gone forever, but my years spent with them tied me to them individually. Conditions, rules and ultimatums be damned, these outcasts and freaks were my family and I wouldn’t leave them. Especially now that Bella was finally going to be apart of the coven.

The reason I was headed to her house was because Alice had informed me that Emmett was going hunting. Emmett was the only make in our family I hunted with on our own, I usually preferred to hunt with the women. I’d always been protective over women and I couldn’t abandon that instinct, even though I knew they could handle themselves just fine without me. I figured that this would be a good chance to invite Edward along to clear the air between us.

Things had been tense between Edward and I, he’d always been a bit more distrustful of me then everyone else and my loss of control at Bella’s birthday party cemented this. Part of the reason he’d left after we made our leave with Forks was because he thought I’d wanted Bella for myself. I wasn’t going to lie, I am a man and human or not, she was an attractive girl, if a bit young. And her compassion towards me, that no one but Esme and Carlisle ever afforded me was invigorating. As his brother, though, Edward should’ve known I’d never let my feelings get in the way of his first chance at happiness.

Unfortunately, he’d never let go of his grudge, even now that he was reunited with Bella. I’d resolved that whatever problems they were currently having in their relationship were none of my business and respected his wish to keep my distance. I’ll admit, though, it was hard and uncomfortable, seeing as Bella was always around and sought me out often. It only worsened Edward’s ire. Maybe a good hunt, and a fair tussle would straighten us out and he’d relax a little.

Nearing the line of trees on the edge of the Swan property, I smelled the aged scent of Edward, showing he was no longer here and hadn’t been for at least half an hour. He’d already left with Emmett, I realized. Alice probably knew and set me up for some reason.

I focused on the human residents of the household, one deeply asleep and the other...energetic?

Bella’s emotions were all over the place. Anger, guilt, love, attraction, insecurity. All at the same time. The two most dominant feelings, however, were arousal and desperation. I’d never felt such aching lust such as hers. It seeped into the marble granite of my skin, making me feel a bit perverted.

Curiosity overthrowing rationality had me silently climbing the tree just outside her window onto a branch with a perfect vantage point of her on her bed. Masturbating.

I wasn’t new to the concept of pleasuring oneself. It was natural for lack of an external outlet for lust. I just never imagined Bella being the type of person to do so. While I definitely knew well that she wasn’t a prude, unlike my brother, I figured she was unfamiliar with the action. I figured wrong.

Watching her frenzied movements as she humped her pillow in search of release, I swallowed back at just how wrong I was. A sheen of sweat made her bare form glow in the dull light of her room. The hair that wasn’t pasted to her forehead and wound around her neck tumbled down the curve of her back, the curls swaying frantically in time with the thrusts of her hips. Her breaths came rapidly, harsh exhales with occasional soft moans. She was actually speaking, but didn’t seem to be aware of the fact.

“Yessss.”

“Oh!”

“Like that. Just like-ah!”

“Fuck! Oh please, please, please!”

“Such a whore, yeah! I’m your the filthy whore. Use my cunt however you want.”

“Want it inside. Cum inside me. Want it.”

“Ooh, sir, fuck me hard!”

Each phrase that passed her pouted lips stirred me up further, coupled with her emotions, a single twitch could have me barreling through the window and fucking her into next week or falling out of the tree. I’d never been so hard in my life.

I never knew Bella had a thing for dirty talk. Is this what she dreamed about? Or was it something her and my saint like brother did in private? If so, why wasn’t he hear now. If I was her boyfriend, I’d never let either of us leave the bed. We’d be worse then Emmett and Rosalie.

Except she wasn’t my girlfriend. I wasn’t her boyfriend.

She was with my brother.

And I was watching her trying to get off like a pervert.

No, I wasn’t like a pervert. I was one.

Shamed, I turned to drop from the tree, race home, and pretend I’d never come here. Hell, I’d pretend to not even know where she lived.

Then I heard it.

“Jasper...” Was she talking about me? Maybe I misheard or she misspoke?

“Oh, fuck, Jasper, yeah! I wanna come so bad. Make me come! Let me come!”

“Jasper! Jasper! Jasper!” Each repetition of my name was punctuated by a roll of her hips and a whine.

I felt my eyes turn black as I dug my fingers into the tree, splintering the dark bark. I didn’t mishear a damn thing. And she was saying it on purpose. Whatever fantasy she was having, I was the star. I was the one who was giving her an orgasm. That thought left a possessive feeling in my gut as my cock threatened to tear out of my pants.

“Bella,” I whispered, palming my dick, debating on whether I should leave or stay to witness her expression when she came.

As if she heard me, she turn her face towards the window and opened her eyes, immediately finding my own gaze which was trained on her.

A moment of silence passed before she suddenly fell off her bed. A small thud signaled a hard landing and I dosed Charlie with another layer of tranquility and exhaustion to keep him from coming in here.

Sliding up the window of her room, I pounced on her bed to make sure she was alright. A pair of bewildered, wide brown eyes locked with mine as she lie sprawled on the hardwood floor.

“Are you okay?” It’s official, this is now the last place I want to be.

“Jasper? What are you doing here?” Great question. Answer mine so I can leave.

“Not an answer. I came for Edward. He wasn’t here. I thought you were distressed about something. You are not,” I rush out, her humiliation making me both turned on and uncomfortable.

Her face told me how stupid she thought my last statement was and I was glad her sole emotion wasn’t one of embarrassment anymore.

“Well, Edward isn’t here and if he knows any better, he won’t come back,” she says bitterly, anger clouding her features. Did she dump him?

“And you’re okay?” The thud I heard sounded pretty rough.

“Obviously.”

Do I leave? I almost don’t want to anymore. She’s treating me more normally than anyone has since we got back. But she was still naked and that was distracting for both of us. I look around the room and grab a lump of fabric off the floor and offer it to her to cover up.

The cloth turns out to be an unflattering and oversized sweatshirt in a shade of deep blue. It wasn’t hard to guess who gave it to her.

“Not that I mind, but what are you still doing here?” Bella brings her knees to her chest, slightly exposing her bare pussy to my excellent eyesight but I don’t point it out. The embarrassment has finally left her system and I want to keep it gone and myself here as long as possible.

“I don’t really know,” I answer her honestly, getting comfortable on her bed and shifting so she could join me.

Climbing on the bed and sitting as far from me as possible, Bella let’s out a sigh and continues to stare at me.

“So you and Edward are quarreling again?” Oh you’ve got to fucking kidding me, Whitlock. You have a gorgeous, semi nude girl who you caught moaning your name while fucking her pillow and you bring up her fucking boyfriend?!

Bella looks mildly irritated at my question, obviously still upset with my brother, but opens her mouth to answer anyways.

“It’s not just a fight this time. Actually I feel like all of our recent arguments have been leading up to this. It’s so tiring trying to argue with a wall. When he left, I just told him not to come back and I meant it. I’ve never done that before. But I can’t be with someone who constantly invalidates my feelings and risks our relationship for his own selfish reasons,” she bemoans, her misery at trying so hard for her relationship only to fail hitting her hard. As much as I thought she deserved better, Edward was who she wanted and she didn’t have him anymore.

“Well, either way, the whole family is in your corner, no matter what. Truth is, we had no idea what Edward had done to end things with you, he’d painted it make it seem like you’d ended things because I’d scared you,” I said sheepishly.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no, that wasn’t it at all. I kinda figured he would’ve embellished the truth, but not to that extent. You have to know Jasper that I never once blamed you for that night. It wasn’t your fault, or anyone’s. It was just an unfortunate incident.”

Could this girl be anymore wonderful? Not only did she forgive me, but she was never upset with me in the first place? God, how did Edward not give her whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. If she were mine, I’d be her loyal slave, and happy about it. I’d spend every moment bending to her every whim.

I wanted her to be mine. I just wanted her, period.

“Bella, you couldn’t possibly understand how much that means to me. I’ve been torturing myself with the thought that you feared me and didn’t want me around. So, I couldn’t be happier that you’ve said that,” I thank her, feeling as if I could cry if I had the ability.

Compassion and heartache cloud her face and she hurriedly rushes to my side, placing a hand in my thigh and the other cupping my jaw. How distracting! How did Edward resist her, I wonder for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Of course, not! I couldn’t ever fear you, Jasper! I should’ve come to you sooner and told you. I’m glad that now we’ll have the opportunity to spend more time together. Given my upcoming change and my relationship with Edward ending,” she added, looking at me through her lashes, fearing rejection.

Not only did Edward resist her but he rejected her as well? What the hell was wrong with that boy?

“I’m very relieved your joining our family for good. It’s been made abundantly clear that we can no longer function without you,” I tell her. I know what she’s trying to tell me but I’m done with her implications. I want the girl who was desperately fucking herself with a pillow like a little bitch in heat, I wanted her to acknowledge that only I could give her what she craved. I wanted her to beg.

Surprise is written all over her face. It’s clear that I understood what she was implying and she’s confused on my response. I’ll give her as long as she needs to figure it out.

Smirking, I stroke a gentle finger along her throat. As overjoyed as I was to find out she doesn’t fear me and never did, I was still dangerous to her as a human and she liked that.

“Um, I-uh, I’m glad too. No more of this fragile, clumsy human business anymore,” she stammered, her heartbeat racing under my fingertip.

“Durability is quite the advantage as a vampire. Though I will admit that I’ll miss the clumsiness,” I murmur boldly. It’s true, though. I quite like her fawn-like gait. Maybe it’ll transfer over as a vampire.

“Hmph, I sure won’t,” she bites out. Looks like I sparked a nerve. Interesting. Time to change the subject.

“What exactly about the durability entices you, Bella,” I drawl out, emphasizing her name with my now thicker accent. I see her throat struggle to swallow before she answers.

“Besides the fact that it’ll be harder for our supernatural enemies to hurt me or use me to hurt you?” Her bravado is clearly false but I applaud her for trying to fool me.

“Tut. Tut. Tut. I can tell you’re lying, Bella,” I admonish mockingly. She shifts her body to be leaning towards me and I notice that I’ve done the same.

“Um,” she begins nervously, unsure if whether she should say so. She continues anyway. “It would’ve been easier to be more physically affectionate with Edward as a vampire. Not that I want that anymore.”

While it made me upset that that was her reasoning, I can’t truly fault her either. She was truly in love with him before he’d fucked it up. It was clear that her ignored advances had made her insecure about her looks and I seethed at that.

“Who said Edward is the only one who wants you? And trust me, you don’t need to be a vampire to fuck one, I promise, sugar,” I coo, throwing her a bone to ease her esteem. She wants to be wanted, and I’ve long decided to give her exactly what she wants.

She gasps. “Really? I thought it was impossible.” Her confusion was so cute. Her furrowed eyebrows were so adorable that o though about the other ways I could make them do that.

“It is impossible, for a virginal prude like Edward. A boy who knows nothing of sex or how to pleasure a woman,” I declare, making the clear distinction between her and Edward. Their problem was that when he left her broken, he gave her the opportunity to mend her self into someone who outgrew and matured past him. An opportunity which she took.

“What you need,” I continue, leaning into her warm body and she leans upward to kneel above me, “is a man to treat you and that delectable body the way you deserve.”

By the end of my sentence, I have one hand resting in her thigh, just above her knee, and the other high on her waist, my hand having found it’s way under that horrible sweatshirt and my thumb skirting under her breast. Her hand had shifted from my thigh to my hip, fingers curving around my belt, and the one cupping my face now wound into my hair.

Breathing once again heavy, she again tries to seek in control. “And you’re the man for the job?”

“Fuck, yes,” I hum, meeting her challenge and slotting my lips against hers.

So soft and sweet, the flavor and feeling were addictive. I could see why Edward struggled, but I wouldn’t.

She kept mostly still while I kissed her and I angrily realized that this was a condition of affection with Edward. I egged her into kissing me back and ran my cool tongue along her bottom lip as encouragement. Falling into it easily, Bella moaned into my mouth and eagerly allowed my tongue into her mouth. Exploring, I slowly massaged her tongue with my own, a silent urging to slow down. I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and I wanted her to enjoy this for as long as possible.

But I guess months of pent up sexual repression took its toll because she ignored me and used her grip on my hair and hip to pull herself closer to me. Going at her pace, l pulled her by her leg to straddle my thigh. The same position I’d found her in when I’d arrived. She pushed her entire weight on me, wanting to get as close as possible, and I welcomed her happily. My thumb was no longer stroking her ribs, but clutching her tits and lightly tugging her nipples as I’d seen her do to herself. She moaned and ground her hips onto my flexing thigh, wetness seeping through the fabric quickly. Her pace was rough, choppy, so I grabbed her hips myself and symmetric her at a much smoother pace. Once she got the hang of it and was moving on her own, my hands returned to her torso to remove the one piece of clothing she had on and allowed me full access to her body.

She seemed slightly embarrassed to be fully naked while I was fully clothed and her hips stuttered. I once again got her going but I didn’t let go this time. Bouncing my thigh, I dragged her greedy pussy as she cried out my name and yanked my hair. By now, my leg was soaked and I pulled my lips from hers as she arched her back so I could give her neglected tits some well-deserved attention. Pulling a pert nipple into my mouth, I rolled the pink bud in my mouth and tugged gently. Non-stop moans poured from her mouth loudly as she neared her first orgasm.

Forcing her hips harder, faster, I helped her chase her release. With a final yelp, she let go and came all over my thigh, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open. As she calmed down a little, I checked to make sure Charlie was still sleeping and luckily he hadn’t stirred in the slightest bit. Good. I’d need him like that until morning.

Leaning away from her, I surveyed my work. Her legs were twitching slightly, pussy swollen, chest heaving with small marks around her breasts from my mouth, lips swollen and eyes scanning over me.

“Is something wrong?” She seemed to be perfectly enjoying herself but if she wanted to stop there was nothing to do than what she wanted.

“No,” she drew out, exaggerating the ‘oh’ sound. A small smile tugged at her lips.

“Then what?” Even now, she confused me.

“You’re wearing too many clothes. I want them off,” she commanded. How cute. She thought being a brat would get her anywhere. For now it would, this was clearly her first time and we quite literally had all the time in the world. Besides, it’d be more fun to let her think she was in charge for now.

I’d indulge her for now. “Whatever you say, Princess.” I felt her shiver at the nickname as I shrugged out of my shirt and mentally catalogued that response for later.

As she marveled at my physique, I pondered how I’d get out of my pants and shoes without having to move her off of me. The smell of her cum reached my nose as I got lost in thought while rubbing her thighs. God, she smelled good. Probably tasted even better.

Even better.

Focusing on her face and she waited impatiently for me to continue, I leaned back so my head hit her pillows, coincidentally finding myself on the pillow she was humping. Before she could question me, I yanked her forward to kneel above my face.

Panic set into her features as she registered my intentions. Doubts were intercepting her lust.

“I don’t want to hear it, Bella. I don’t need to breath and I have super strength. I’ll be fine. Get down here and fuck my face, now!”

Although the lust had set back in, she was still unsure.

“I don’t know why you’re so shy when you just made a mess all over my lap. And not to mention the pillow. Just do that again,” I ordered, taking note of a fresh wave of her arousal at my words and the fact that I was admitting to watching her. It seems my new lover have a thing for degradation and exhibitionism.

She slowly started lowering herself down, angling so that she was lined up with my mouth. She was going a little too slow but I wanted her to want this as much as I did. Still, as soon as she got within reach, I lifted my neck to plunge my tongue into her dripping cunt. Instantly, I started thrusting in and out while lapping up her juices and making sure my nose was hitting her clit. Her hands immediately yanked my hair even though she tried to pull her hips away from my insistent mouth.

Soon she was grinding against me and her little whimpers and whines reached my ears. Her thighs closed around my head as she dragged her slit up and down. I lazily whirled my tongue and moaned and the vibration caused shudders along her body, her legs starting to shake. She was losing energy but still wanted to come. I quickly removed my remaining clothes and wrapped my hands around her thighs and renew vigorously tongue-fucking that sweet pussy. Shoving my face between her legs fully, I felt like all I could see, taste, smell and feel was Bella’s cunt. All I could hear were her angelic moans as she again neared her second orgasm. I thought it couldn’t get any better for me. By far the best moment in my long life.

Then I felt a small, warm hand wrap around my hard cock.

Holy fuck, it got better.

Sure she was inexperienced and was clueless on what to do, but it felt fucking amazing. She pumped me in time to each of my thrusts into her. I started rocking my hips into her hand, keeping in mind that I had to reign in my strength as to not hurt her.

We were both moaning loudly, both so close and I wanted to come so badly but I couldn’t. I needed her to come at least three times before I did once and I needed to come inside her. As far as I was concerned, Bella’s pussy was my happy place. Truly magical.

Removing my hands from her thighs, I guided her free hand to her nipples and got her to start tugging on ‘em to her leisure. With that same hand, I entered two fingers inside her and began pumping those alongside my tongue. With my other free hand, I wrapped my fingers around the ones on my dick, showing her how to do it correctly and how I liked it. For future reference, of course. I was still holding out right now.

She came within seconds after that and collapsed backwards, head landing on my thigh. Again, I rubbed her thigh soothingly, wanting to give her some time to adjust. I wondered if she’d even last for another orgasm. I was surprised she could take, too. Still. One of these days, I was going to bury myself between her legs and not come up for hours. I wanted her to be crying, begging and constantly coming. We’d have to establish a safe word for a lot of the things I wanted to do.

As I was wondering if I should give her a break for the night, she suddenly turned around so her stomach was flat against my body, wrapped her hands around my still erect cock and began kitten licked. It took all of my strength, control and resistance training from over the years to hold back from grabbing the back of her head and fucking her beautiful face. That would definitely have to wait til she’s a vampire.

“Shit, baby, mmmm...” I groaned, ducking my chin to lap up the rest of her orgasm. She moaned against the head which she’d begun sucking on and I almost came all over her face. The thought alone was tempting. “So good. Fuckkk.”

I felt her satisfaction and elation at my praise and catalogued that one for later, too.

“Does it feel good, sir?” She tried taking me deeper but wanted my input first. What a good girl.

“So good, Princess, you’ve got no idea. Mmmm,” I purposely hummed into her lips and she mewled, lightly thrusting her hips into my all-too-willing mouth. “I thought you’d be too tired to continue. Tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

This set her off into a panic, shocking me. “No! I don’t wanna stop, yet! I want more!”

“What a greedy little pussy you have!” I suck her lip and clit into my mouth and she sits up to try to get a better angle before pulling off completely.

I would’ve protested and tried to pull her back but she turned around completely to face me again and sat back onto my lap. So beautiful.

“You haven’t come. I want to make you feel good, too,” she explains shyly, glancing down at my bobbing erection.

“You’re so sweet, you deserve to be rewarded! Do you want my cock in you, doll? Want me to fuck you with it? Come in that tight, little cunt of yours?” Her eyes light up at the thought before a slight look of fear enters her eyes. Fuck, her hymen. I hope she’s not too scared because I can handle it just fine.

“What if it doesn’t fit? You’re big,” she frets. I try not to preen at her observation since it’s bothering her but I’m quick to reassure her.

“Don’t worry, it’ll fit. And don’t worry about me tearing your hymen, my control is much better,” I soothe, intertwining our fingers.

At my words, she giggles softly and then full on laughs at my face. “Oh, I accidentally tore my hymen years ago! Clumsy, remember?”

Leave it to the beautiful klutz seated in my lap to be the one calming my nerves. I could easily fall for her. I probably already was, but I’ll give her all the time she needs to heal from my brother.

I lie there, just staring at her, taking her in, before my little brat becomes impatient with me again. I’m going to have to train her about that. Oh, I couldn’t wait to punish her one day soon.

She grabs my cock and pulls it towards her pussy, running it up and down her slit, moaning lightly. Or maybe she was moaning really loudly, I can’t tell over my own moans and the ringing in my ears.

I sit up and pull her with me. I slowly began easing her down my dick before bottoming out. I wait til the look of discomfort leaves her face and start guiding her hips until she was bouncing on her own. I pulled her into a kiss as she struggled to find purchase on my shoulders, pulling her bottom lip into my mouth and her tongue tracing my lips.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and move my mouth from hers down to her neck and shoulders and chest. She sobbing at all the stimulation she’s getting and I reach a hand down to start rubbing her clit. My other hand he’s to her tut to hold it in place for my mouth. I start whispering dirty things in her ears, all of the things I planned on doing, as well as sweet nothings, also things I planned on doing.

“Fuckin’ take my cock, greedy little whore!”

“Doing so well, baby, yeah, ride it. Use me.”

“Gonna to fill this cunny up all the way! Won’t be walkin’ for weeks!”

“Oh, you feel so good, sugar, the best! Wanna make you feel good!”

“Can’t wait to turn ya. Gonna fuck you on everythin’, everywhere. Bend you over. Fuck that dirty little mouth, show you who you belong to! You’re fuckin’ mine! This pussy? Mine! Ain’t nobody fuckin’ you this good! Ain’t nobody gonna! Ain’t that right! Don’t you dare fuckin’ come! Not til I say so! Beg! Now!”

Tears were streaking her face, legs shaking, hips stuttering and pace uneven. I almost felt sorry for her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was still fucking me, holding herself as close to me as possible. Chanting my name like a prayer.

“Come on, darlin’, all’s you gotta do is beg a little. Say it, baby. Tell me how much you want it,” I huff, encouraging her. I was so close but I needed her to come one last time before I let go.

“Need it,” she shrieked, trying to find her words. “I need it, Jasper! I need to come. Want it more then anything! Love you so much! Make me come all over your fat cock! Make me yours, please! Please please please!”

“Let go, baby,” I amended, grabbing her hips so I could come right after her. She loved me. I was gonna spoil my baby rotten for the rest of forever.

She screamed as she came rutting frantically and clenching down on me hard. I started fucking up into her hard, thrusts going deep inside her. At the same time I was yanking her down the same moment my hips went up.

“Ooh, fuck fuck fuck Bella fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I growled, sending myself over the edge and she cried from the overstimulation. “Fuck! Bellaaaaa!”

I collapsed onto the bed taking her with me. Her hot cheeks being soothed by my cool chest as I played with her now tangled hair. She ran her fingers up and down my abdomen, feeling the contours of my body, trying to memorize it.

“Jasper?” Her voice was sleepy.

“Hmm?” I’d clean her up when she fell asleep and watch over her

“That was a bit intense for my first time.” Oh, shit! Did she not like it?

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, rubbing her back. She tenses up, suddenly rejuvenated.

“No! No! Not in a bad way! I can’t wait for the next time, actually. What you’ll do next,” she insists, smiling softly.

“Well, in that case,” I mutter as I flip her onto her back for round two.

Enjoy this, folks! It’s unrelated to my multi-chapter fic, though they share a similar plot

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

"Don't Look at Me, I'm Sick!"

Author's Note:

So, I know no one will believe me but I've been working at this for a month 😂 I swear my intention was not at all COVID-19 related, but rather from a random prompt I found online somewhere! The prompt is bolded. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: Y/N has the flu, and who better to save her than a friendly, neighborhood Spiderman?

Warnings: None? I guess descriptions of the flu if that counts!

Word Count: 4,068, because I have no self-control 😂

A painful, chest heaving cough racked through my body, leaving my stomach muscles feeling sore and my chest burning. I flopped back into my cocoon of pillows and blankets with a sigh. Nothing like a bad case of the flu to remind me of just how hopelessly inadequate my non-existent abs were. 

What had started as a small tickle in the back of my throat yesterday had mutated into a full-blown flu. Not just any flu either. No, this was the 'every symptom you could possibly think of, oh my god am I dying?' kind of flu. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck, and if my mom was any indication, it was a safe bet I looked it too. She’d poked her head in my doorway for a solid 10 seconds before dialing the school attendance line and informing them that I wouldn’t be there. She left for work not long after, shouting at me to keep drinking fluids and to take some Tylenol. Since then I’d been drifting in and out of consciousness all morning, waking only long enough to either cough or sneeze my guts out. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear I had the actual plague. 

My phone had been buzzing on and off all morning, but in my fever-riddled, sleep deprived state, I elected to ignore it in favor of more sleep. The buzzing reached a fever pitch sometime in the mid-morning before it mercifully stopped. I sighed again, flopping over to my stomach and snuggling my sweaty head deeper into my pillow. I huddled the overwhelming number of blankets around my shivering form like a safety net as I idly wondered how far away the medicine cabinet could possibly be. Realistically, it was all of 6 feet away, but just the suggestion of having to move my body was enough to make my muscles feel like mush. I groaned, flopping uselessly around my bed as I internally weighed the pros and cons of getting up to grab some Tylenol. 

I was so wrapped up in my mental battle that I didn't hear the distinct 'thwip!' coming from the fire escape outside my bedroom window. Normally I'd hear the sound no matter how loud the music was in my headphones or how fast asleep I was. I guess it was more of a feeling I got, a low hum of excitement deep in my belly that alerted me than a sound really, but regardless I was completely oblivious at the moment. I also missed the practiced, rhythmic taps on my window due to the sneezing fit that overtook me and the subsequent rush to rummage around my sheets for any non-crumpled tissues. 

"Y/N?!" 

A slightly panicked voice was the sound that finally broke me out of my illness induced haze. I yelped loudly and, reacting out of pure instinct, flung the first thing within reach at the intruder. Unfortunately for me the closest thing to me was a near-empty box of tissues, and based on the lack of thump that followed I don't think it even hit my intended target. It was hard to say for sure though because immediately after my feeble attack I dove deeper into my cocoon, covering myself completely with the mountain of blankets. 

“What the FUCK!” I exclaimed. Though I wish that my voice sounded strong and threatening, the shock rippling through me coupled with the way my nasal passages were currently blocked and the muffling effect of the blankets covering my face made my fierce roar sound more like a surprised squeak. 

"Whoa whoa whoa!" the voice placated quickly. "Y/N, it's just me!"

The familiar tenor tones of my intruder began to seep into my sick brain like a cloud of smoke. I frowned unconsciously as my mind worked in overtime to try and place the voice with a face. I winced for a moment, the sudden onset of thought enough to send a stabbing pain shooting behind my eyes and leave a throbbing, dull ache in its wake. My brain whirred on for an embarrassing amount of time before the recognition hit me like a truck. 

"Peter?" I questioned humbly, peeking my eyes out from the blankets just enough to see. I blinked quickly and fought against the dizzying pain that overtook my brain against the onslaught of light. 

Standing over near my opened bedroom window was my adorable, if sheepish looking, boyfriend. His face was wrought with a look of pure anxiety --  big brown eyes practically swimming with worry and normally sweet features all contorted downward. The messy brown curls I loved were stuck tight to his sweaty forehead, and he clutched his Spidey mask tightly in his right fist. He wasn't wearing his suit, so he must've thrown on only the mask before making his way over. Even in my post-panic/flu-induced fog I felt a touch of irritation at his recklessness. 

"It's just me, sorry," he apologized breathlessly with one hand still outstretched appeasingly towards me. "I just...you weren't at school and you weren't answering your phone and I got worried."

Guilt flooded my already-churning stomach at his gentle admission. That explained the incessant buzzing of my phone this morning. Of course Peter was worried, the boy literally could not stop worrying over everything. And to be fair, he had much more reason to than most. I silently cursed myself for forgetting to text him and tell him I wouldn’t be at school. I opened my mouth to apologize just as another realization filtered into my brain. 

I screeched. 

Not a normal screech either. This was a gross, nasal-sounding cry of sheer terror that I could tell made Peter flinch from all the way across the room. I dove even more quickly into the mountain of blankets and pillows than I had back when I was pretty sure I was going to be murdered. 

“What?! Y/N what’s wrong?” Peter exclaimed, clearly still a bit panicked over everything. I couldn’t hear him walking over, but I felt my bed dip under his weight as he near-instantly was at the edge of the mattress. The blankets shifted and I could tell he was attempting to pull back one of the many covers that I’d engulfed myself in. I huffed, twisting my body deeper into the tangle of sheets and rolled so away from my poor boyfriend that I almost fell off the bed entirely. 

“Y/N?” Peter questioned, tone laced with concern and confusion. 

“Don’t look at me!” I shouted. Or as close to shouting as I could muster through the scratchy, dry rasp that was my voice currently. “I'm sick!" 

There was a long pause before Peter's sweet chuckle sounded outside the confines of my cocoon. 

"Yeah I kinda figured that out," he laughed. I couldn't see his face, for obvious reasons, but I even so I could tell it held his wide, genuine smile. As if to punctuate my point further, another dizzying coughing spell came over me and bent over as I proceeded to cough all but my actual guts out. 

"Oh, Y/N/N," Peter murmured sympathetically. I felt his hands rest on the blanket again as if he were going to pull it away and I jerked away from the contact once again. "Hey? Why are you hiding?"

"Because I'm sick," I grumbled defensively. "I don't want you to see me like this!"

Peter clicked his tongue in disbelief. 

"Come on," he whined. "You know I couldn't care less about that!"

He could try all he wanted, but there was no way I was going to face him at the moment. I hadn't taken a good look at myself yet today, but I was certain I looked like a half-dead pile of garbage. I could feel the way my hair was matted and knotted from all the tossing and turning, my nose felt like it was on fire from all the snot pouring out of it, there was a dry spot on my chin that I was certain was leftover drool, and to top it all off I could practically feel the crushing weight of the bags from under my eyes. I crossed my arms petulantly from the confines of my blankets, not caring that he couldn't see my small act of stubbornness. 

I heard Peter sigh from his place beside me, and the weight on the bed shifted until I could feel him sitting right next to me. 

"Y/N, you know that I think you're the prettiest girl I've ever met, right?" he questioned softly from beside me. My face flushed wildly at the implication, although I don't think he would've been able to tell even if he could see my face due to the raging fever I was sure to have. Butterflies silently began to flutter in my tummy. I hummed in nonchalant agreement, unable to trust my voice at the moment. 

"Well you are. You're the prettiest, funniest, smartest, cutest, and most stubborn girl I know", he replied firmly, putting unnecessary emphasis on the last bit. "And seeing you when you're sick isn't going to change any of that."

I grumbled lowly, silently feeling my resolve weaken but unwilling to concede just yet. Peter evidently took my silence to mean he was getting through to me and began talking once more. 

"I was really worried you know?" he continued casually. "When you weren't at school today, I mean. I thought something bad might've happened..."

The same feeling of guilt from earlier came crawling back to me and began to weigh heavily within my already sore chest at his admission. His voice sounded like he was desperately trying to sound unaffected, but I could hear the remnants of the fear and panic he'd felt this morning. The guilt intensified and ran it's way up my body and rested into my eyes and throat, burning them with unshed tears begging to be let out. 

I cautiously peeked out from the blankets, still covering everything but my eyes from Peter's vision. He smiled at the small victory -- that perfectly crooked and adorable smile that never failed to make my heart melt and my knees feel weak. I smiled back, although it quickly drooped into a frown when I realized he couldn't see it. 

"I won't stay if you don't want me to," he stated plainly while looking down at his lap. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I want nothing more than to be here with you and take care of you -- actually that's not true I just want you to feel better, regardless-- but what I mean is I won't if you don't want me to."

I giggled lightly at his near-incoherent babbling, causing his eyes to snap back up to my blanket-covered face and his face to break out into another one of those smiles I loved so much. I sighed indecisively. 

"You're sure you're not going to, like, freak out, right?" I questioned cautiously. Peter shook his head quickly, brown curls flying wildly around his face. 

"Positive." he affirmed. 

"And you swear that you aren't going to, like, take off running? Or, more likely, swinging?" I clarified. I was being purposely exaggerative, but underneath my sarcastic facade there was a part of me that was very much scared. Scared that Peter, the absolute best guy I knew and the person I relied most heavily on, would be disgusted with my illness-riddled self. Peter frowned, a look of genuine distress overtaking his features. 

"I would never." he vowed incredulously. I searched his handsome face silently as I contemplated. 

Finally, after several long moments of deliberation, I sighed in defeat and slowly pulled the blankets away from the rest of my face. Peter just looked on encouragingly as my dramatic ass took its time, a tiny proud smile playing on his lips. 

"There's my pretty girl," he cooed soothingly as I finally detangled my upper body out of the mass of bedding. I shot him a look of pure annoyance which only seemed to fuel his glee further. He chuckled lightly, pulling my overheated and yet somehow still shivering form to his chest. I willingly allowed him to pull me into the comfort of his embrace, suddenly feeling too tired and weak to protest further. 

Peter's arms were my favorite place to be. Hands down. I'd discovered long ago that his chest provided the perfect pillow: it was soft, yet firm, warm, but not too hot, and smelled like the perfect mixture of his body wash, laundry detergent, and his natural scent. Also not to be taken for granted was the way his strong arms instantly wound around me whenever we cuddled. Being in his arms never failed to make me feel safe and protected. I sighed contently, rubbing my tired and throbbing head deeper into his embrace. He rubbed small circles into my aching back, voice crooning in my ears with unintelligible words of affection. 

"Still the prettiest girl I know," he declared fondly. I lifted my head just enough to look at his face, a display of near-herculean effort on my part, and shot him the most incredulous look I could muster. 

"You're a dork," I grumbled lightly, tucking my fever-and-blush tinged red cheeks back into the comfort of his chest. I felt my makeshift pillow vibrate as a chuckle followed. 

"Yeah. But I'm your dork," he replied cheekily. I hummed in agreement, too tired to argue back.

 I dropped my head further into my own chest as I was unexpectedly hit with another wave of uncontrolled hacking. I could feel Peter's arms rubbing against my back as I did, and after all was said and done I winced at the rush of pain through my head, throat, and lungs. He tsked sympathetically before asking when the last time I took any pain meds was. Unable to find my voice I simply shook my head stubbornly. 

I grumbled incoherently as Peter gently removed me from his arms, unhappy at the loss of contact. He chuckled once more before promising to return quickly as he strode out of my bedroom door. I groaned childishly before my body decided that now would be an awesome time to make me sneeze any and all phlegm that had built up in my nasal passageways. 

I sneezed violently for what felt like hours -- by the end tears were streaming down my face and there weren't enough balled up tissues in my vicinity to stop the flow of snot running from my poor, sore nose. I plopped back onto the pillows, completely worn out and miserable. 

Almost like he could sense my discomfort (and I'm sure if anyone could, it was him) Peter rushed back into my room, arms full. He placed a litany of items unceremoniously onto my comforter before silently handing me a glass of water and a few pills. 

I gratefully accepted, sitting up slightly to take them. The cool water against my burning, scratchy throat felt simultaneously painful and relieving at once. Peter smiled encouragingly, taking the half empty glass back and placing it on my nightstand. Next he pulled out a damp washcloth and motioned for me to lean back once more. Curiosity overtaking me, I complied. 

Ever the sweetest boy I knew, Peter began lightly wiping my overheated face with the cool cloth. I let out a moan of appreciation that I was certain was going to embarrass me later if Peter's reddened cheeks were any indication. Currently, however, I couldn't have cared less if I tried. The cooling feeling spreading across my sweaty, fever ravaged skin was almost hypnotic. I closed my eyes and leaned into the cloth as he methodically maneuvered it around my face.

"S-sorry if it's too cold," Peter's nervous voice interrupted my near-trance. I opened my eyes to see his adorable face very close to mine, expression full of concern. "I can stop now,"

"Why though?" I whined. "I was enjoying that!"

Peter's face turned bright red once more, face turning downwards briefly to hide his wide smile. 

"I'm glad," he replied bashfully. "But you're kind of starting to really shiver, so I think we should stop for now,"

He tossed the rag expertly across the room, landing it neatly on the back of my chair without even really looking. I rolled my eyes. 

"Show-off."  

He just grinned. 

“Okay, I also brought you more tissues, some cough drops, some cold medicine, your laptop, some new blankets...”. 

Peter’s voice changed completely, dropping down to a more serious tone as he waved his hands over each item as he explained. I felt tears start to collect in my eyes, wholly touched at the sheer sweetness of his thoughtfulness. I was trying to come up with a response as the tears began to drop down my face in big, fat droplets when Peter took note of my emotional state. His eyes went wide with worry -- he instantly shuffled closer to me and wrapped scooped me up, blankets and all. His arms wound around my body tightly as he placed me on his lap and his cheek rested lightly against the crown of my head.

"Hey, hey," he soothed quietly. "You're okay, I'm here. What hurts sweet girl?"

I chuckled breathlessly at his response, thoroughly enamored with his protective concern for my well-being. 

"I'm okay Petey, nothing hurts," I mumbled quickly. The throbbing of my head and ache in my chest immediately flared at my words, clearly enraged to have been downplayed like that. I grimaced. 

"Okay that's a lie -- everything hurts," I amended begrudgingly. "But that's not why I'm crying."

He pulled his head back just enough to look me in the eyes, expression riddled with confusion. 

“I just -- you’re so --,” I struggled to put the way I was feeling into words. Peter waited patiently, concern-filled eyes never leaving my face. 

“I just love you,” I murmured finally, looking deeply into Peter’s eyes. “Like, a lot.” 

His face softened immediately and his cheeks filled with the gorgeous pink blush that I adored as he gazed lovingly down at me. I felt time stop, the way it always seemed to when he looked at me like that. I held my breath, captivated by the proximity of my very handsome boyfriend and the feeling of his arms wound so tightly around me. 

“I love you too,” he whispered softly, face bowing down towards my own until I could feel his breath fanning against my lips. I felt my brain short-circuit for the millionth time this morning, though this time it wasn’t fever-related. Peter’s face drifted closer and closer to my lips at what seemed like a glacial pace. Just as our lips were about to connect, a thought ran through my mind, clear as a bell, and I jerked backwards so suddenly I fell off Peter’s lap and into a heap on the floor. 

“Oh my god! Y/N, are you okay?!”

Peter hurriedly picked me up and placed me gingerly back on my bed. I chuckled breathlessly, still a little dazed from the close encounter. 

“What the hell was that?” he questioned incredulously. 

“You can’t kiss me! You’ll get sick!”

Peter looked stunned. 

“You -- you’ve got to be kidding me,” he groaned, body flopping backwards onto my bed momentarily before he sat back up and looked me straight in the face. “You’re joking, right?”

I crossed my arms stubbornly against my chest and stared defiently at him. He studied my expression for a beat before he sighed and flopped onto his back once more. I giggled at his frustration, and he sat up once more to shoot me an exasperated look. Then, his eyes lit up with a mischievous look and he grinned at me. 

“You know, I haven’t been sick once since I got bit,” he mentioned nonchalantly. I raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. “I don’t even think I can get sick anymore honestly.”

“Nice try Spiderling,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not chancing it. Queens needs you.”

“Yeah but I need you,” he whined. “I can’t go a whole day without affection, I’ll die!”

I snorted. 

“Nice try Tinkerbell,” I chuckled. Peter’s pout deepened. “Aww, don’t do that. You know it’s for your own good!” 

Peter stuck out his bottom lip childishly. 

“Alright, alright, you win,” he grumbled. “But cuddles are non-negotiable! I will literally die without them.”

I smiled widely at his response, scooching up to the head of the bed with him and allowing him to pull me into his chest once more. He fiddled with my laptop for a few moments and not long after I was drifting off on his shoulder as our favorite movie played. One of his hands was splayed across my back, trapping me against him (as if I’d ever want to move) and the other was tangled in the messy hair against my head. I was fading, falling into sleep steadily. 

“Mmmmm Petey,” I breathed softly. “Love you.”

I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I felt him smile against my hair. 

“I love you too sweet girl,” he whispered. I raised my head tentatively, eyes closed and lips searching his cheeks for their favorite spot. I felt Peter’s breath hitch, and his face dip down towards mine just slightly. “Thought you were worried about getting me sick.”

I set my mouth in a pout. 

“But you said you can’t get sick, right?” I mumbled hopefully. Peter chuckled, the vibrations from his chest tickling my cheek.

"Thought you weren't gonna chance it?" he questioned breathlessly. "Q-queens needs me."

"I need you," I whined. He chuckled again, the deep timbre sending shivers down my spine. 

"Well, I can't let you down now can I?" he whispered playfully before finally connecting his thin lips to mine. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of my illness went by like an insane fever dream. Peter stuck by my side like glue the entire time, taking care of me like the sweet boy he is and spending the majority of the time entangled with me on my bed as we watched wayyy too much Netflix. The times he left were brief -- just long enough to convince my mom and his aunt that he was still sleeping back at his apartment. 

I was finally back in school, feeling refreshed and eager to be out in the world once more. I walked over to Peter's locker, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek and waving hello to MJ and Ned. His ears and cheeks flushed pink at the display and I grinned with pride. Ned just smiled while MJ rolled her eyes fondly. 

"Someone's glad to be back," she quipped dryly. I laughed, carding my fingers through Peter's as we all began to walk down the hall. 

"I actually am," I replied cheerily. "I'm as surprised as you are."

As we walked Ned began filling me in on everything I'd missed while I was out. I listened to him chat excitedly about Flash's new car and the change in the Decathalon team's lineup with amusement, wholly happy to be back to my normal routine. My mood was broken suddenly as I felt the fine hairs on the back of Peter's arm stand straight up from the spot where our arms brushed together. I looked up at him anxiously, wondering what could be lurking in our midst that sent his senses off.

Peter looked as baffled as I did. His eyes scanned the halls furiously, searching for the source of the danger. The two of us slowed to a complete stop in the middle of the hall. 

Ever perceptive, MJ eyed Peter and I suspiciously before bluntly asking what was wrong. Ned turned and looked on curiously after he finally noticed that no one was following him anymore. I glanced at Peter, unsure of what to say. He cleared his throat nervously.

"I dunno, I just got this really weird--"

He started to explain, but part way in he paused and let out the biggest sneeze I'd ever heard. And that's coming from a girl that just spent the last 4 days coughing and sneezing like it was her job. MJ and Ned chuckled knowingly as Peter just stared at me, utterly bewildered. I couldn't help but giggle at the incredulous look on his face before smiling sheepishly at my poor boyfriend.

"I did warn you!"

[malachi-walker]

Some Really Heavy Thoughts on the Relationship Between Scorpia and Catra

Fair warning, guys: I'm gonna get into some deeply personal stuff involving abuse recovery and past mistakes here. I will not be making excuses for Catra or her treatment of Scorpia, but well... Let's just say there's a reason why their relationship has always me wince. Because it touches on some stuff that is likely relevant to a lot of ex-abuse victims.

This entire meta stems from an epiphany I had while discussing with @johannas-motivational-insults how I have a really hard time writing Scorpia, and me trying to pinpoint what exactly makes me so uncomfortable working with her or looking at her relationship with Catra in detail.

Let me back up a bit. We all love Scorpia. She's a big cuddly sweetheart without a mean bone in her body. She's fantastic, a bright point in the overall suckage that is the Horde, and she gives GREAT hugs. So why does their relationship bother me so much?

Well... It's because I've been there once before in my own life. And it's one of my deepest regrets, so seeing that play out on screen and instinctively knowing where this is going fucking sucks.

Personal stuff under the cut.

We've already covered Scorpia being a good kid. That said, I feel like a lot of people just flanderize her into being this perfect wonderful friend who wholly accepts Catra (and conversely either woobify Catra or make her a horrible monster who doesn't appreciate a good thing) but... the truth is a lot more nuanced than that.

Scorpia doesn't wholly accept Catra because in order to truly accept someone you have to see them for who they really are, warts and all, and Scorpia doesn't. She idealizes Catra and either ignores or downplays her very real flaws and problems, and tries to excuse any actions she commits that don't live up to that constructed image, which is of course what she confronts in s4 (and I’m proud of her for that.) It's not done with any ill intent, but it's still not a good thing in any relationship; romantic, platonic, familial, any kind.

Here's where things get real personal. Also, I wanna specify that I am not forcing myself to talk about this, even though it still hurts in a lot of ways. Though I am probably gonna bring this up with my therapist when I next see her.

I've mentioned before in previous meta that I am an ex-child abuse victim who followed a very similar trajectory to Catra once I got out of that situation. I was angry, I was hurt, and I was ADAMANT that nobody get close to me again and fully prepared to lash out as much as I needed in order to make that happen. Occasionally people would slip through my guard anyway, but on the whole I was very successful at that goal and torpedoed a lot of bridges back in those days.

And as much as it kills me to admit it... I had my own Scorpia too.

Her name was Amy, and I met her in my freshman year of high school after I ended up in a private school for the “gifted and talented” (which ended up being its own mistake, but that's a story for another day.)

To put this entire situation into perspective: at the time I was struggling to process and cope with my abuse, I had just been misdiagnosed with major depression after an entire year of contemplating suicide, and I had been put on a ridiculously high dosage of the antidepressant Wellbutrin--literally the highest dosage they could legally give an adolescent without the risk of seizures--which cranked my rage up to a constant underlying simmer and also gave me horrific fucking nightmares, to the point that for about a year and a half I was consistently only getting two hours of sleep because I was waking up screaming nearly every night. This is not me making excuses for being such a dick, but I do try to keep in mind that younger me was dealing with an absolute shitshow when passing judgment on myself. I was trying to survive a situation that absolutely no one was equipped to handle at all of 14 years old.

And then here comes Amy.

Amy was one of those people who was relentlessly optimistic to an almost suspicious degree (more on that later.) The kind of person who will reply to any statement of "I'm having a bad [x]" with generic look-on-the-bright-side platitudes and a big smile without actually addressing anything you said. She was also one of those people who was aggressively Christian, not in a mean way, but in an "it was her answer for literally everything" way, which given that I was struggling with my own faith at the time was practically a recipe for disaster.

But for whatever reason, this girl latched onto me, no matter how much I tried to get her to do otherwise.

I wanna note that I wasn't wholly devoid of friends at the time; my best friend, Michael (who is still my best friend/bro to this day) had also gotten into the school along with me, but the rest of our friend group hadn't and those relationships drifted apart in the ensuing years, which only served to compound the underlying issues. And I will always be thankful that the guy was able to roll with the punches and stick by me even through my absolute worst, but it was also pretty irritating having to switch between my bro who understands me even if he didn’t always agree to my much tenser interactions with Amy. So back to her.

Basically, this girl just kinda inserts herself into my life, refuses to take a hint or back off, and any time I try to talk about my issues or get her to understand a little and make an actual connection, I'm met with the overwhelming feeling of "You're not really seeing me. You're not listening." So I responded by being a fucking bitch. I would ignore her, make fun of her, treat her like a third wheel, etc. In hindsight, it was a dick move, but at the time it made sense to me. I genuinely felt like it was her fault for never listening to me in the first place, so I justified it by telling myself I was just paying her back in kind.

I lost touch with Amy after I was kicked out of school at the tail end of freshman year due to a Wellbutrin-induced rage episode (nobody got hurt, but my attitude at the time was so consistently extreme that the school administration literally had an inch thick dossier on my behavior and what the other kids thought of me, so that incident was just what they needed to justify kicking me out.) Afterwards, my parents made the decision to relocate to another town since my expulsion meant I would be banned from going back into school for a full year unless we changed systems--and even then I was required to go into a continuation school to prove I had been rehabilitated, but I digress. Point is that I was uprooted from that environment and I didn't bother keeping in touch.

I actually found out years later from a friend who went to that same high school--though we didn't actually become friends until after my expulsion--that the reason why Amy was the way she was is that in the year prior to meeting me, her mother had committed suicide and she had been the one to discover her body. So in hindsight, her entire deal made sense: she was trying to survive in the only way she knew how and cope with a situation no one should ever have to, same as me.

But that didn't mean we were able to connect. The great tragedy of that situation, and the thing I regret the most about it, is that we were just two horribly damaged kids that were utterly incapable of actually seeing each other as we were at the time. And it ultimately wasn't anybody's fault, which ironically makes it even harder to accept.

I regret the way I treated her. I wish I could have made her life a little better, and I still hope and pray she got the help she needed elsewhere.

That's what makes Scorptra so incredibly tragic to me as well. Scorpia is a good-hearted person who does genuinely care for Catra, but she also willfully blinds herself to the things Catra is dealing with and her relentless optimism often just ends up rubbing salt in the wounds. Catra is wrong to treat Scorpia so badly, but I also fully understand those feelings of resentment and anger you develop towards someone when they consistently refuse to see you as you are, because I've been there. And that's also why I've always had a hard time with Scorptra romantically (though if you ship it, good for you! I honestly wish I could), because those issues have always been present in their relationship and made it unsustainable from the very beginning.

Something was always destined to break between them. And that's what makes it so damn hard for me to write Scorpia as a character, because in many ways she reminds me of one of the things I regret the most in my life: how I treated someone else who had the best intentions horribly when I was at my absolute worst. These days I try to be kind to my past self as part of the healing process, but when I think of my actions in that year it is really fucking hard. I don't like to think about it, even though I know I feel like I need to (which is also why this meta exists.)

Neither Scorpia or Catra were at fault for the fact that they couldn't see each other properly: it was just a really bad case of wrong place, wrong time. And that's what makes it hurt.

Also, if you made it this far, I'm sorry this was so depressing. Please have a happy cat and scorpion to hopefully feel a little better. Also huge shoutout to @yesbpdcatra for encouraging me to get this out there. You're the best, fam.

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

gosh please tell us more about all the whack stuff roman can do as a witch I love him and your world building skills

So wait in the LAOFT universe what /is/ the criteria of being a witch? Is it only passed on through families or is there a muggle born type situation going on? What kind of powers do they have? Do they have wands, or is it more like the match and mirror thing Roman did? Just give me all the lure please and thank you. (from @radioactivehelena​)

*looks at the several pages i have titled ‘witch lore’* oh okay, sure

basically, pop culture witches... irritate, me, just a little - not because there’s anything wrong with them, but just because they all seem to be very similar flavor and that flavor is “vaguely wiccan and usually a v attractive young adult woman”

which is again, not bad, but - traditional witch lore is so goddamn cool and i wanted to bring some of THAT flavor back.

Roman and May are human, definitely, but they are a different kind of human. 

Fae are often described as “The Folk of The Air” and this contrasts them with humans, who are creatures of the earth. thats why iron hurts fae - its basically pure earth energy, and it conflicts with their nature.

(humans also have iron-based blood, which obviously didn’t influence that bit of traditional folkore but works out v nicely for me)

So fae are Folk of The Air (light or dark, as well, depending on Seelie vs Unseelie) and humans are earth-and-water so...

what’s that make witches?

Dizzy calls them fire-folk in Cat, Virgil’s sisters and mother describing Greta in for who would inhabit this bleak world alone? - Virgil and Logan both know all the witches smell like smoke but they dont make the connection because they dont realize its not just sticking to them from an outside source.

and then, the most obvious, Monster!Greta inducing a full-blown blood fever in everyone in the immediate vicinity.

This is also why in Cocoon Patton says Roman is warmer than him - its not just because Patton’s small, Roman genuinely runs a few degrees warmer than a regular human. it’s one of the reasons May is so reluctant to take him to the hospital if she can avoid it - anyone who took his temp would assume he had a pretty nasty fever.

They are literally creatures of fire, the same way the fae are creatures of air.

as for what they can actually do-

What Roman does in Loyalty is scrying, which both him and May can do in a variety of ways. May actually prefers bowls of water, usually blue bowls (thats why theres bowls of water all over the house when the boys return from the clearing in confuse my tongue with your tombstone - she was looking for them) 

but she didn’t have her bowls, which is why she asked for candles, because candles + a mirror is Roman’s preferred method. this actually comes up a LOT between Roman and May.

The poppets in the book of fairytales and in Romans bag in i looked just like everyone else and what is a prayer to a flood? are charms Night-Roman made to protect against the monster.

but later, in a field of burning lavender and a blade buried in wet soil, when May charms Patton and other residents against Greta, she uses potions.

May was leading the hex on Jim just because Roman doesn’t hex much, which is why its a potion when Roman prefers poppets even though most of the RageTM was Roman’s

they cast a particularly nasty hex on Jim Marks, and they can do quite a bit with those (and jinxes/curses) - including but not limited to: causingimpotence, causing other disease, raisingstorms, preventing cows from givingmilk, preventing hens from laying, blighting crops, and thats just the more traditional stuff. consider your typical four horsemen stuff - war, famine, pestilence, death (yeah, they can kill people that way, but its Real God Damn Hard)

as far as spells, they can do the above scrying, healing, causing good luck as oppose to misfortune, finding the whereabouts of stolen or missing goods, and calling rain and other good weather

[ialreadyreadthatfanfic]

So I saw the new Star Wars movie

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT PEOPLE

First off: I went to a marathon of the whole sequel trilogy with my friends, and I’m glad that I did, because I forgot A LOT.

Mostly how many good memes there were born out of those films.

The Force Awakens evoked pretty much the same feeling it did during the first watching: it’s a good, enjoyable beginning, with a lot of hooks, not a lot of risks, a bit too much resemblance to the original trilogy, but on the whole a promising start.

The Last Jedi, on the other hand. I forgot how effectively this movie killed my interest in Star Wars for a long, long while. The plot is a mess. Most of the characters are unlikeable, because the idiot balls they’re holding are too big to get past them. Main offenders are: Poe, Hondo, Finn and Rose. The unfortunate Casino subplot, which is tiring. The fact that whoever wrote Rose’s character arc (or rather didn’t bother to write it) did the actress massive disservice, because the way Rose “saves” Finn at the last minute is, frankly, rage inducing and makes her character devoid of any shred of consistency. I have a lot of other complaints about this movie, but the storylines not making sense are a common theme, so let’s not rehash the familiar arguments.

Now, onto the main event.

The Rise of the Skywalker was… mostly okay.

For me personally, it would be hard to match the disappointment of TLJ, so this worked to lift the sequel ROTS up. I went in pretty much unspoiled, actually! I heard the “oh they plan to bring Palpatine back” thing back when the first teaser/trailer was released. But after that nothing more.

Number one: Leia.

It’s such a shame that Carrie Fisher didn’t get to act in this movie. There are several scenes with Leia mentoring Rey, but it is obvious the filmmakers went as far as they could with the footage they had available, but could go no further. Some scenes with Luke and Han (Han especially) are obviously done with Mark and Harrison standing in for Carrie.

Number two: Palpatine and the theme of Rey’s legacy.

This is where the lack of overall plan for the sequel trilogy, and subsequent lack of proper foreshadowing in TFA and TLJ hurts the most, probably. So Rey is revealed to be Palpatine’s granddaughter. Her parents chose to abandon her for her own safety and were killed when they refused to give up her location. Okay, that’s interesting backstory. Sadly, after the WHO ARE REY PARENTS… PERHAPS SOMEONE WE KNOW and the OMG PLOT TWIST SHE’S NO ONE AND HE PARENTS DIDN’T CARE FOR HER AT ALL, the third plot twist gets me merely to roll my eyes and sigh heavily. I wish dearly there was more time to develop this storyline. It’s wasn’t ENTIRELY bad, but the whole thing has this feel of “uhhh people were really pissed off after the last one… what can we do to fix it?? Oh shit we kinda killed Snoke too and there is Big Bad Villain missing bc we want to redeem Kylo… you know what?? Palpatine was the big bad in prequels AND in the original… let’s have a dramatic reveal how it was him all along. It will nicely bring the story back full circle, you know” and so they did just that.

Nr two subsection A: the whole Sith legacy/Final Order thing was interesting, but again: too little time to develop it. It should have been tied into First Order and Snoke in previous movies… and the less said about Deus Ex Machina Sith Fleet in which every ship has a planet-killing weapon on board the better. Just don’t thing about it too much PLEASE.

Conclusion: Snoke was Palpatine’s test tube baby experiment? That actually explains a lot…

Number three: redemption of Ben Solo.

Honestly, this one? Is actually a net positive for me! I had so little patience for Kylo Ren as a villain that redemption storyline actually made me like Ben Solo in the last part of the movie (AT LAST). And while two first movies had me uninterested in Reylo to the point of irritation at its prevalence, the last movie actually made me ship it a little! Maybe I’m a sucker for redemption. Maybe I don’t have patience for characters who themselves have no idea why are they doing what are they doing and they kinda maybe might not want to do it but continue to do it because it’s easier than giving it up aaand you get the picture how I saw Kylo Ren. And how glad I’m that Ben Solo at the end got to move past this stage of his character.

Also, the Reylo Force Skype was strong in this one. And how!

Number four: Finn and the Stormtroopers deserters.

Again, this should have been in TLJ. They should have taken this whole storyline about Finn meeting other deserters from First Order out of sequel ROTS and replaced the goddamn casino thing with it in TLJ. Sadly, they only thought of putting it in the script once the fanbase got pissed off about lack of Finn’s character development/his BACKWARDS character development in TLJ.

Consequently, Rose was sidelined. On one hand, it’s a shame. On the other, I’m a bit relieved; after the mess they made of her arc in TLJ, there was no salvaging it. It’s better to let the actress have a few scenes to note that she didn’t just disappear from the plot, but don’t try to aggressively resurrect her plot and make an even bigger mess.

The unintentionally hilarious thing about this point: Finn suddenly comes across as such Casanova. Here’s Rose! Here’s Stormtrooper deserter lady! (sorry, I forgot her name). Here’s a sly hint that he might have feelings for Rey!! Pick a girl, for god’s sake!!!

Nr four subsection A: Poe also got an old flame lady Who Happens To Help Our Heroes. Just so you know that he’s definitely into ladies, you know, just a heterosexual dude… The relationship in the movie is handled actually pretty well – they’re old flames and while Poe wants to rekindle the relationship, the lady is ultimately like “nope” and the Poe does “aw” face and moves on, so pretty classy overall. Just in the context of Finnpoe and great chemistry they had in the first movie? This is such a shame.

Number five: Poe in charge and the Resistance thing.

Poe’s storyline in The Last Jedi totally ruined this for me, sorry. I couldn’t even get all that invested.

Also, it feels at times like the movie wants to have Poe taking up Leia’s legacy, Rey taking up Leia’s legacy, Ben taking up his mother’s legacy and you know what? Leia’s legacy is big. There’s definitely enough to go around! TOO BAD THERE’S NOT ENOUGH TIME IN THE MOVIE TO SHOW ALL THIS PROPERLY YOU KNOW GOD I WISH THERE WAS MORE ABOUT LEIA’S JEDI TRAINING

Number six: the ending.

Rey and Ben fighting together – I was actually finally sold on Reylo at this point. Their fight together in TLJ against Snoke’s guards was pretty cool (one of few good things in THAT movie), and here their shared fight against Palpatine/Knights of Ren (?) was also great.

Palpatine shooting the force lighting into the sky to disable the whole Rebel fleet and friends apparently got someone in the cinema to go “seriously?!” out loud, as my friends report. Enough said.

Rey dying and Ben trying to bring her back to life: this part actually got me really excited. For a moment there I thought that Ben would fail, and the force ghost Anakin would show up to Deliver Some Hard Earned Wisdom About Bringing People Back To Life And How You Can’t Do It and this would be a very satisfying ending to the whole “Ben/Kylo tries to be Just Like Grandpa Vader” storyline. Well, that didn’t happen.

The fact that Ben brough Rey back, then kissed her passionately, and then IMMEDIATELY KEELED OVER DEAD got the whole theatre laughing (me included). Again, enough said.

The “Galaxy Shows Up To Help Out BC The Resistance Asked Twice And They Felt Bad After Ignoring The First Call”: I got it. You want your feel good moment here. Look how happy ending is when the people of galaxy unite together, aww. Sadly, when you think about it for a two seconds more, this is such a bullshit and disservice to Leia, because the implication is that they didn’t pick up when LEIA was calling, but decided to help after all when LANDO asked… What??? Go fuck yourselves.

The ending-ending was ok. Rey, Finn and Poe hugged (aww!). Two ladies kissing in that 0.5 sec long shot are all Disney needs to show how open-minded they are*. That one kiss with Ben was apparently enough to marry Rey into the family, she’s a Skywalker now. Leia and Luke look approvingly on as they force ghost along, that’s nice.

At least people who wanted Rey to have a double blade got what they wanted in the end.

 *So it’s actually genuinely good that scenes like these ARE put into cashcow franchises like Star Wars, but I’m hesitant to give Disney too much credit. Knowing them, they’ll just shove one blink-and-miss-it scene in all their movie and claim that’s comprehensive proof of their supportive approach to alternate lifestyles.

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Not Exactly T.H. White

by Viorica

Wednesday, 14 January 2009

Viorica's review of the BBC's cracktastic Merlin.~

After what might be called a bitter breakup with BBC’s Robin Hood, I promised myself that I’d avoid any further TV shows that were more enjoyable for their badness than their quality. So when the majority of my Livejournal friendslist began squeeing over Merlin, I swore I’d avoid the temptation. No matter how shiny and cracky and homoerotic it appeared, I was not going to watch it, because I knew that if I did I’d be sucked into shiny-cracky-homoerotic-bad TV land. But eventually the temptation grew too strong, and I downloaded the first season to watch over Christmas break. I expected bad special effects; I got that. I expected inaccuracy; I got that in droves. I expected mediocre writing and acting, and I got . . . something else.

If you assumed from the title of the show that Merlin is based on Arthurian legends, you’d be better off abandoning that idea right now. The series revolves around a teenage boy named - you guessed it - Merlin who is sent to live at the court of Camelot by his mother, because he’s manifested magical powers, and she has an old friend, Gaius who lives at Camelot and who is better equipped to train Merlin than she is. Unfortunately for Merlin, magic is outlawed in Camelot, and has been since the birth of Prince Arthur about twenty years earlier. Yes, Merlin and Arthur and the same age, and that’s only the beginning of the divergence from the original stories. Merlin manages to land a job as Arthur’s manservant, much to Arthur’s chagrin, as Merlin has a tendency to call Arthur out on his bullshit. From there on in, it’s up to Merlin to protect Arthur from various pissed-off sorcerers (Arthur’s father Uther Pendragon has ordered all magic-users burned at the stake, which has naturally rubbed them up the wrong way) while simultaneously trying to hide his own powers and protect innocent people from Uther’s wrath. He’s helped by Guinevere, aka Gwen, a maid at the castle, and her mistress Morgana, Uther’s ward, who disagrees with his policies. Merlin is also mentored by a dragon being held prisoner under the castle, who has an irritating tendency to intone “Protecting Arthur is your destiny, Merlin!” at least once an episode.

If you think it sounds cheesy, you’re completely right. It’s intended as a kid’s show, and filmed with the audience in mind - despite the rather high amounts of violence (at least one person dies per episode) the camera always cuts away from the nasty stuff. The main conflict is Merlin’s need to hide the fact that he has magical powers, and the fact that this keeps conflicting with his need to protect Arthur, which obviously has no basis whatsoever in Arthurian legend, but then neither does anything else. As the series progresses, Arthur and Merlin’s relationship evolves from that of mutual resentment to comfortable partnership, and eventually friendship (which comes off as very, very very homoerotic, probably due to the fact that it involves a lot of hugging and acts of unwavering devotion. The cynical part of me thinks that the writers are playing to the crowd.) The actors playing Merlin and Arthur are actually quite good, and what they bring to their roles - quiet goodness in Colin Morgan’s case and brash testosterone in Bradley James’s - helps establish the boys as genuinely likeable people, struggling to figure out their place in the world. Angel Coulby is incredibly sweet as shy, blushing Gwen, who spends most of her time trying to make everyone as happy as possible. The weak link in the cast is Katie McGrath, who plays Morgana with a maximum of two facial expressions: smug and perturbed. The older actors are obviously having fun with their roles, and bringing some gravitas to the characters as well - Anthony Stewart Head’s Uther is unlikeable by virtue of his actions (this is, after all, a man who ordered all magicians put to death over a mistake he made) but thanks to Stewart Head’s talent, you can see a bit of humanity shining through from behind the throne. Richard Wilson’s Gaius is your standard mentor/father figure, with a dry sense of humour that managed to make me laugh at least once an episode. John Hurt voiced the Dragon, and there really isn’t much to say about his performance - given the fact that all he gets to do is blather about destiny, there isn’t much room to stretch. The guest stars are touch-and-go - Santiago Cabrera, who played Lancelot, was absolutely awful, while Asa Butterfield was suitably creepy as an eight-year-old Mordred. No one is giving Lawrence Olivier a run for his money, but they’re a very talented bunch, especially considering that most of them haven’t hit thirty yet.

I’m not entirely sure what I expected from the writing. Before watching it, I’d heard the show referred to “crappy tweenager fantasy” so I assumed it’d be a lot of rambling about Destiny and True Love and The Power of Friendship. While that is included (see my note on the Dragon of Destiny) it’s not as wearing as you might expect, mostly because the characters point out the stupidity of doing something because it’s My Destiny at least once an episode. No one wants to watch a show about people who do things because they’re told; most of the struggles come from Merlin and his friends struggling with the expectations they’re being held up to versus their own inherent sense of what’s right. My personal favourite episode revolves around a young boy who Uther wants to execute because he’s a Druid-in-training. Merlin, who obviously takes the stance that killing innocent children is wrong, enlists Morgana’s help to hide the boy, and Arthur’s to smuggle him out of Camelot. For this he is repeatedly chastised by the Dragon, because the boy is eventually going to kill Arthur. Merlin and co say “Screw this” and smuggle the boy away to his own people. At the end of the episode (spoilers, obviously) Arthur asks for his name, and the child replies “Mordred.” It’s a deliciously eerie moment (helped out by Mordred’s creepy stare) and an interesting message about Destiny v. Free Will: the choices of Merlin and his friends will make or break Camelot, but it’s up to them to decide what it’s worth. Fortunately, not all of the destiny-related storylines are that gloomy. For example, one of the show’s most endearing points is the relationship between Merlin and Arthur, which begins with Merlin flat-out chastising Arthur for taunting a servant. Although Merlin is repeatedly pushed towards the prince by the dragon (for this reason, he’s acquired the fandom nickname “Slash Dragon”) their relationship eventually becomes that of friends. When Merlin goes to protect Arthur at the potential expense of his own life, he’s doing it out of affection for the prince rather than a sense of duty, and that - the inherent nobility of the main cast - is a big part of what makes the show so endearing.

There is, of course, the problem of the show’s title, which I’ll have to address or risk this article becoming unadulterated gushing. I’m not especially familiar with Arthurian legend - I know the basics, and I’m about thirty pages into The Once and Future King, but I’m far from an expert - but from what I do know, I honestly can’t understand why they decided to tack the name “Merlin” on it at all. There are references to “canon”, such as it is - in one episode, Arthur is wounded by the Questing Beast - but overall, it plays out like an original story with occasional allusions to Thomas Malory or T.H. White. As I’ve said, it’s good enough to stand on its own, and I think the attempts at labelling it an Arthurian adaptation are going to be detrimental in the long run. Instead of being remembered as a well-written original series, it’s going to end up being dismissed as “that crappy Arthurian adaptation that screwed up the stories”. Actually, the fact that they felt the need to try and slap the name of a pre-existing story on it kind of makes me sad, because it implies that they felt they couldn’t market an original series, and that’s just depressing. Aside from the rage-inducing potential for Arthurian enthusiasts, there’s some holes in the writing - in one episode Morgana says that Gaius has been caring for her since before she can remember, then later claims that she came to live in Camelot when she was ten, implying either than she has long-term memory loss or that someone didn’t proofread closely enough. Still, the small slipups aren’t enough to detract from a genuinely enjoyable show. And if all else fails, you can always hit mute and enjoy the eye candy.Themes:

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Wardog

at 10:16 on 2009-01-14Hello, welcome - and thank you for this wonderful review. I no longer need feel ashamed of my secret love for Merlin. When it first came on, I dismissed it after about 10 ten minutes (Uther's first 'by the way, this is the backplot' speech didn't help) but a few weeks later my LJ friendslist also exploded with squee and joy, so I gave it another go and, lo, it was simultaneously awesome and awful and utterly utterly watchable.

You're absolutely right about Morganna not being quite up to speed on, y'know, this 'acting' thing ... but she is very, very beautiful, so I don't mind. And the dragon is a bit repetative, despite being voiced by John Hurt.

The weird thing is I don't really get any slashy kind of vibe from Arthur and Merlin, despite the fact that these two boys finding friendship and making sacrifices for each other ought to be very homoerotic. I suppose I find it slashy in principle but there isn't much a spark between the actors (I mean in terms of teh gay) to make it stick. Possibly I am just missing.

As you say in your conclusion I do find Merlin's status as an adaption interesting - I actually rather enjoyed the complete lack of respect with which they treated the mythos, once I got over myself about it. The Arthurian background does give it all a familiarity and a resonance that might have been lacking if it was just Generic Fantasy Story About Friendship and Valour. Although it is a bit dodgy I have come to think the Arthurian dimension does add something - there's always something joyous about watching people play in the paddling pool of literature and start a water fight.

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Rami

at 10:49 on 2009-01-14Yay! I somewhat guiltily enjoyed Merlin myself, including the not-quite-aside allusions to actual canon / legend (the court genealogist appears to be Geoffrey of Monmouth ;-)). Arthurian legend, historically, has been pretty flexible and as far as I know there isn't any real canon — so I'm all in favor of going in a new direction with it, and I'm quite willing to forgive the writers for taking advantage of all the gravitas and popular awareness that Arthur's story gives you. As you said, that moment when the little Druid boy tells Arthur his name is eerie -- but it would have been meaningless if it hadn't been Mordred talking to Arthur, and / or you didn't know who Mordred and Arthur were.

About the cast — Anthony Head and Richard Wilson are brilliant, of course, I can't disagree, but I have to admit I don't share your reservations about Katie McGrath. (But maybe that's because of the eye-candy factor.)

Perhaps it's my lack of slash goggles but I don't see the "very, very homoerotic" between Merlin and Arthur? I wonder if it's just 21st-century cynicism that makes "heartfelt and sincere" have to mean "Twu Wuv"?

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Rami

at 10:52 on 2009-01-14Oh God Kyra and I have just posted very nearly the same comment.

Resistance is futile

I mean, no, FerretBrain doesn't have a "Collective Consciousness" feature...

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Wardog

at 12:06 on 2009-01-14You will be assimilated....

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Viorica

at 22:18 on 2009-01-14I suppose the slash question depends on what you go in expecting. I was told repeatedly before ever watching it that the boys were the slashiest slashy things that were ever slashed, so I went in with slash goggles firmly strapped on. And I suppose there's an interesting study to be done on the way men show affection v. the way women do and how it's interpreted by outside observers . . . but as far as fandom's concernd, it's all about the pretty and the gay.

As for Katie McGrath, she is pretty, but there's always this irritating feeling that I'd like the character so much more if she could emote properly. As it is, she tends to grate.

Apropos of nothing, have you watched the video diaries? They're screamingly hilarious, and both Bradley James and Colin Morgan act uncannily like their characters. It's a little creepy . . .

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Wardog

at 11:35 on 2009-01-15That's the thing, although I'm not a slasher myself, I do occasionally find myself on the outskirts of fandom enough to have some slash goggles of my own. I was prepared for slash, I looked for slash, I saw ... the motions of slash ... but I didn't *feel* the slash. Sometimes there's a genuine spark between actors or something about the way a relationship is portrayed that makes me secretly believe something could conceivably be going on between them. I was re-watching DS9 (sad bastard that I am) recently and, despite knowing not a damn thing about the DS9 fandom, I became immediately and increasingly convinced that Sisko and Dukat were having incredibly hot hatesex... (Dan holds out for Dax/Kira girlsex, however, - they are certainly very giggly together).

I watched some of the video diaries - Bradley James is so adorably silly. I mean this in a maternal way, not a sick way. I particularly liked his musing on the cockatrice.

By the way, I meant to ask, what caused things to sour with Robin Hood? I never watched it so...

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Gina Dhawa

at 16:04 on 2009-01-16

Arthurian legend, historically, has been pretty flexible and as far as I know there isn't any real canon — so I'm all in favor of going in a new direction with it ... that moment when the little Druid boy tells Arthur his name is eerie -- but it would have been meaningless if it hadn't been Mordred talking to Arthur, and / or you didn't know who Mordred and Arthur were.

This is my justification for liking

Merlin

the way it is. T.H. White took some pretty big liberties along the way (though if you're thirty pages in, I won't spoil that), as have any of the people who have written the story down over the years. The trouble is convincing people there's not really a canon to be followed, that if you take the earliest versions of the stories and put them to what you might find in a modern collection, there are so many differences that you might think you weren't reading the same story at all.

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Viorica

at 19:51 on 2009-01-16Well, it could be argued that there are some basic plot foundations- Merlin being Arthur's mentor, Guinevere as his wife (though they still have time to do that), Morgana being his half-sister, etc. I think the reason some people don't like it is because they grew up on "The Sword and the Stone", so the show is effectively stomping on their childhood memories. I don't have any such memories to get stomped on, so it doesn't bug me.

Re: Robin Hood. It started out as silly fun, but it as it went on, you realized that the people running the show didn't know or care what they were doing. There were no efforts at making the costumes or scenery look nice, and virtually none of the characters were likeable, or even tolerable. Their Robin is the kind of guy who whines at an ex-girlfriend for "betraying" him when she's forced into marriage with another man. The urge to punch the title character in the face was stronger than any desire to keep watching.

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Sonia Mitchell

at 22:16 on 2009-01-16Great article. I didn't catch all the episodes, but definitely enjoyed the ones I did see. I like your point about the gravitas the older actors bring, particularly Head (in what could have been a pretty thankless role given his character's lack of humour).

Interesting discussion about the appropriate amount of reverence for the source material, too. I quite like the way Merlin did it, with plenty there for people who do know a bit about Arthurian legend but not so much you know for sure what's going to happen. I never saw Smallville, but I think of Merlin in much the same way - you know what happens down the line, but these are the gaps in between. And knowing what lies ahead is an interesting experience, because you're watching for it and everyone involved in the show knows you are (of the ones I saw, Lancelot's episode was the most willing to play with this).

It's also pretty dangerous, of course, because unless they're willing to go down the rejected destiny road the main young characters all have to live. I think they've got a nice balance - there's plenty of peril, but the real danger is more often disgrace than death (though I missed the last few episodes, so for all I know there was a dramatic and bloody finale).

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Viorica

at 01:30 on 2009-01-17There was *almost* a dramatic and bloody finale, but it was averted. You should really watch to see why, though- that episode actually managed to make me tear up a bit.

"Great article."

Thanks!

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Rami

at 12:44 on 2009-01-17I never saw Smallville, but I think of Merlin in much the same way

Yes! It's not all that different in many ways -- Smallville takes a lot of liberties with Superman canon (Lex Luthor and Clark Kent being friends, for instance), and I guess one of the reasons that it's more or less accepted is that Superman canon has been retconned so many times nobody's sure what *is* canon anymore. I think much the same is true for Arthurian legend ;-)

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Arthur B

at 15:05 on 2009-01-17I think in comics continuity Lex Luthor and Clark Kent

were

friends until Clark mistakes a controlled explosion in Lex's lab for an actual fire, and horribly injures Lex as he tries to put it out.

Six nerd points for me.

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Wardog

at 19:39 on 2009-01-17I have come late to the party...

The trouble is convincing people there's not really a canon to be followed...

I think this really nails the issue; perhaps, for a lot of people T.H.White is "canon", although it's Roger Lancelyn Green for me, personally - I have no idea who that guy is but basically every book available for kids about anything vaguely mythic, Greek, Norse, Egyptian, Celtic, was written, semi-turgidly, by this dude. Anyway, what I've got distracted from saying here is: a lot of those things we associate with the Arthur Legend today have very little in common with the early source material. Guinevere is barely in Malory - he just wasn't into chicks - and there's a sense that a lot of her bad press comes from the fact he decided to situate the fall of his macho martial ideal in damn women with their lack of appreciation for war, dammit, war. There's very little actually 'romantic' about Le Morte.

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Wardog

at 19:43 on 2009-01-17Also I am now definitely avoiding Robin Hood. I heard it was rubbish but fun, but that sounds like it's moved into "just plain rubbish" territory.

[dangansuffering]

Up To Eleven || Ch2 Motive

On the morning following the extremely eventful suffering game, you all wake to find your ElectroIDs buzzing away again. Those of you still in the infirmary are briefly woken from the stupor of medical treatment to witness the video. As soon as the screen is tapped, it begins to play, showing a grinning Onryo…

“Hello again. I know some of you are still reeling, either figuratively or literally, from all that excitement yesterday, but we do have a schedule to keep to! You wouldn’t want to extend your stay unnecessarily, would you? Unless you’re all having fun, of course. Ah, but I’m getting off track. Today I have another special surprise for you! That’s right folks, it’s time for another motive!”

They pause, as canned sitcom applause plays briefly. Nice touch.

“So, this is a fun one. Have you all heard of nanites before? The concept has been around for ages and the actual technology has been achieved in the last ten years or so. Of course it’s still very experimental in a lot of ways, so if you haven’t heard of it yet that’s understandable. Allow me to explain: nanites are microscopic little robots that can travel through your bloodstream. Fancy, right? They have all sorts of potential applications for medicine, but for right now what’s important for you to know is this… you’ve all been dosed with a high number of them. That’s right, even as I speak, hundreds of these ingenious little things have traveled up into your brains for the purposes of this motive. You with me so far? Good, buckle up, this is where it gets wild.”

“Because these nanites are programmed to enhance your emotions. What are emotions but chemical reactions in the brain, after all, when you get right down to it. Sure you can wax philosophical all you want, but the fact is that if we dump in some dopamine you’re gonna be feelin’ the buzz. I could get into the real nitty gritty scientific details here, but I don’t want to confuse the less… academic, among you, more than I have to. Here’s the cliffnotes: tiny robots in your brain are going to amp up your feelings. This effect is cumulative. The longer the motive lasts, the more intense even the most mild feelings are going to get for you. I probably don’t need to explain more than that. You’re all going to get to learn through experience very quickly. So, have fun! Talk to you all again in five days! If none of you snaps before then, that is.”

The video ends, cutting out abruptly. Having witnessed a lot of the incredible things that WonderCorp is capable of, it’s difficult to muster skepticism. Especially since any apprehension you might be feeling at the announcement… certainly seems stronger than you expect. If you have any amount of concern about it, then already you can feel anxiety chewing at your nerves.

This… could be bad.

--

[Motive Details:

Overnight, you have all been dosed with a cloud of nanites! They have settled in the operatives’ heads, and they respond to any neurotransmitters responsible for the incitement of emotions. Every time they come in contact with these chemicals, they both duplicate them as well as stimulate the part of the brain that receives them, causing a heavy amplification of the resulting emotion.

In the beginning of the motive, they only increase them by 25%, but with each day that passes the brain will become more and more oversensitized to the emotions the subject experiences, taking less and less of the corresponding neurotransmitter to achieve the same level of emotion.

In short, the more often an operative experiences a particular emotion, the stronger and stronger it will become. By the final day, mild irritation turns into bloodthirsty rage, disappointment into extreme depression, and anxiety into all encompassing panic. Of course, this also means that any positive emotions are amplified as well. Mild amusement turns to euphoria, affection to obsession, and confidence into reckless mania.

The operatives will still have the same reasoning and self-control they would usually have if experiencing these strong emotions organically, and will have the awareness that the intensity is falsely induced, but it will feel very real and the effects will be very real. It will still be very possible for them to be overwhelmed or lose perspective, or behave the way they would if the strong emotion were genuinely triggered, particularly in the later days of the motive. Operatives may very well also experience feelings or depth of feeling that they never have before, and not know how to cope. Have fun!

Tl;dr: On Day 1, subjects experience an increase of their emotions by 25% (1.25x). Day 2, 50% (1.5x). Day 3, 75% (1.75x). Day 4, 100% (2x). And Day 5, 125% (2.25x). It will become increasingly difficult to remain at a ‘neutral’ emotion as the days go by and the more often they normally experience an emotion, the faster and more likely they are to slip into it at its more extreme version.]

[xdeadwhale-blog]

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[gaiatheorist]

Birthday party?

‘On This Day’ in 2010, I was baking cakes. I was probably still on anti-depressants at that point, I can’t see any other reason that I would have allowed four 12-year-olds to potentially rub pizza into the carpets. They didn’t tread pizza into the horrible rug in the end, but I did order too much pizza, and they did implement weird rules about which bits of pizza belonged to them. Kids are odd in a different way to grown-ups.

I had a momentary flash of rage when I looked at ‘On This Day’ at about 3.30am. It might have been more appropriate to direct it at the 2011 ones, where it looks like I spent three hours in the kitchen, ironing things for other people, but I’m not appropriate, or logical. The rage-award for April 14th goes to the ex’s sister, with “Are you having a birthday party? You don’t usually do things like that.” Yes, I was, and no, I didn’t, but it shouldn’t have been any of her business. Maybe she’s a product of her upbringing, and had absorbed the Mother-in-law’s behaviour of stating the obvious, constant gob-rattle, as if being quiet for more than a couple of minutes at a time might cause their mouths to seize up? 

I baked. I baked fifty-twelve trays of buns, a black forest style fresh cream cake, and a batch of choux buns. The kid invited three of his friends over (This isn’t a very big house, and neither of us have ever been in the cool-clique anyway.) the kids ate some of the pizza, and some of the cakery, and then watched YouTube videos on the TV. They were a bit loud, and it was a bit awkward. It became even more awkward when the sister-in-law decided she was going to come over to ‘see’ us. During my son’s birthday party. Which I hadn’t invited her to, because no self-respecting 12 year old wants a morbidly obese auntie who likes to prattle on about her years travelling in Goa or wherever at their birthday party. 

Her boyfriend had already had his stroke by that point, but he wasn’t exactly ‘normal’ before it. He had genuine OCDs, not the ‘a bit OCD’ bollocks people trot out about having the CDs in a certain order, or stacking things a particular way, proper OCD, he used to take his own cutlery to restaurants and such. Apparently he’s developing more traits with his advancing years, which must be all kinds of fun. He has a tic disorder, too, I’m not going to mis-label it Tourette’s, and it’s not as much fun as my mostly-deliberate Coprolalia, (From a Greek root, literally translates as ‘talking shit’.) his tics were vocal, rather than muscular, odd noises, for no apparent reason. (The Father-in-law used to repeatedly tell him to stop, but the Father-in-law didn’t believe in Mental Illness.) So, we have Auntie-Enormous, and Uncle-Burp, in addition to four children full of cake. I must have been in the Prozac haze, because under normal circumstances, that would have provoked all manner of violent urges.  

(Side-flash of rage, about how she was fond of telling me I ought to ‘have some photographs taken, before your looks go’, and the way she’d physically brush my hair off my face. I spent years hiding in my own hair, and now, post brain injury, I have to scrape it back at all times, because I can’t stand the sensation of it touching my face. I have traction alopecia as well as the stress-induced hair loss. He’d once asked if he could take some pictures of me, and I said no. That was an odd stage of my life.)

Auntie-Kaftan hadn’t come to ‘see’ the boy, she’d come to eat the cakes. That family’s insistence on visiting people always irritated me, years of perching uncomfortably on the edge of other people’s sofas, and wanting to be anywhere-else. It was what they did, and Uncle-Burp was dragged into it as much as I was. He’d had enough after about ten minutes, and wasn’t quite as good at hiding it as I’d become, the man had all the social graces of a flatulent walrus, with a walking stick. The kids weren’t being especially noisy, but he’d probably heard all of his girlfriend’s anecdotes about travelling, and her babbling about what contained gelatin or rennet, while she still ate chicken and fish. He buggered off out into the garden, leaving me with Auntie-Me-Me-Me, and the children.

The dog had also buggered off into the garden, and both of the weird-noise-making creatures re-appeared eventually.

“Did you have a nice time in the garden, were you playing with the dog?” Auntie-Mouth-Flap asked him.

“Yeah, he ate a sponge, and then a red thing, I don’t know what it was.”

Uncle-Burp had WATCHED the dog eating things that weren’t meant to be eaten, even by dogs. He’d made no attempt to stop the idiot creature eating the washing-up sponge that had been moving around the garden for weeks, or the ‘red thing’, which was most likely some manner of sanding block from the ex’s never-put-away-properly tools.

I’m probably not going to make cakes this year, but only ‘probably’, there’s the chance that I might, because, as is tradition, other people are taking control of the boy’s birthday, and he might need a dose of my nonsense. He’s being pulled in two directions this year, last Saturday was his friend’s birthday, and they were supposed to be going out to the all-you-can-eat place, but his Mum ‘forgot to book it.’ They’re dirt-poor, even more so than I’m about to be, and it’s perfectly probable that they just realised they couldn’t afford it, you don’t ‘forget’ your kid’s birthday. They’re talking about re-scheduling for tomorrow, which is MY kid’s birthday. Dilemma, because his Dad probably wants to ‘do’ something tomorrow. (Yes, it is entirely possible that BOTH dysfunctional families will end up in the same place, on different tables.) 

19 years ago today the kid was safe in his floaty amniotic sac, before that horrible doctor decided to ‘start me off’ by ‘sweeping the membranes’ without my prior consent. Fucking traumatic for a person with my history. Today, he’ll be the one keeping me safe, with “Go to BED!” and “Don’t drink all of the wine.”, I genuinely don’t want him to have to do that, it’s not fair on him to have to parent me already, some of the brain injury stuff, and some of the ‘other’ emotional stuff mimics depression, some of it makes a fair approximation of dementia, it’s shitty at times. 

I’m not certain which days he’s with his Dad this weekend, he might have mentioned it and I’ve forgotten, or it might just be the usual limbo-state where his Dad decides what’s going to happen five minutes before he expects everyone else to be ready. My functional memory is buggered, I hadn’t realised how many work-arounds I had in place, post-its, phone-reminders, emailing stuff to myself and such, it’s exhausting doubling-up on pretty much everything, but it works. I’ve wrapped his birthday stuff, he knows it’s going to be a bit meagre this year, so wrapping all manner of tat in newspaper might be more unsettling than if I just hadn’t bothered wrapping it at all. It’s done now, I’m not un-doing it.

There we go. I’ve just had a second-reminder that an old school friend has invited me to her 40th birthday party, and I’m undecided. I like her, I genuinely do, but I don’t know if I’d be able to tolerate her other friends. That’s not because she’s a vegan, lesbian, yoga-teacher, or because she’s a former social worker, with three children under the age of eight, it’s because I have brain damage.